Chuck had said it couldn't work, and Blair had believed him. They were all about the chase, the journey more important than the destination. They had to enjoy the lying, scheming, and arguing while it lasted.
They were early for the movie. Chuck had skipped the line at the box office, cut right to the front. If anyone had questioned him, he would have turned on them with his signature "I'm Chuck Bass". Of course it hadn't come to that – overdressed as he and Blair were, no one thought it a good idea to disturb them. And so they sat in armchairs, their hands linked, he sipping a scotch, she a gin martini. They made small talk until it gave way to silence, and Chuck's fingers began to move lightly over the soft skin inside Blair's forearm.
Bored, they left the theatre halfway through the film. Chuck made a call, and when they emerged from the cinema, the limo was already waiting for them in the street. Chuck helped Blair in, before following himself. Their thighs pressed together in the back seat. Blair leaned across – allowing her lips to meet Chuck's.
They kissed – tongues moving against each other, his hands sliding up her stocking clad thigh. "Are you sure?" he asked, reflecting the first time they'd been intimate, in the back of that very same limo. She looked him in the eye, smiled softly, and nodded.
"I love you Charles."
"I love you too, Blair."
Maybe going to the movies didn't work, but Chuck and Blair always had something to fall back on.