To those who dare listen, you're about to witness one of the many teasing, and highly comedic encounters between Chuck and Blair. Yes, that is the same Chuck Bass who holds the title as New York's womanizer, and the same Blair Waldorf who, until recently when a scandal involving her and said womanizer was revealed, was with the captain of the lacrosse team, Nathaniel Archibald. Take haste, for you have been warned.
Brushing her hair back from her face carefully, Blair Waldorf appraised herself critically. The navy blue sweater with a swishing, silken, white skirt was dangerously close to being patriotic, a big no-no. Sighing, she replaced the blue sweater with an emerald green one of similar persuasion, and the ivory skirt with one of identical form but in ebony. Frowning, she was trying to discern what was missing when she heard a huge crash from the direction of her closet. Blair whipped her head around quickly, (but still carefully as not to mess up her perfectly curled mahogany hair) only to see none other than the devil incarnate himself emerging from her closet with a smirk planted firmly on his face.
"Chuck!" she shrieked, enraged at the state of her once perfectly organized walk-in closet.
"Waldorf," he greeted her calmly, bowing to get a rise out of her. "Try this," he insisted, tossing a headband into her outstretched hands. Studying the headband, she realized that it worked perfectly. Grinning slightly, she slid the headband into her hair and grudgingly nodded her thanks. Trust Chuck Bass to have perfect fashion sense, and still be a great kisser. Wait! Where had that come from? Turning back to the mirror, she began to mess around with her hair. Adjusting the curls carefully, she noticed that his gaze was locked on her.
"Acceptable," she decided, turning sideways and wishing she was just a bit thinner.
"Sexy," Chuck declared, a cocky smirk stuck on his face. His impenetrable gaze wasn't wavering, and the way he was eyeing her wasn't exactly giving her the warm-fuzzies.
"You know," she said, quirking an eyebrow at him through the mirror, a small smirk held in her lips, "extended leering is queering." That stupid line had been festering in her mind for a few minutes now, and as immature as it was, she had found herself desperate to use it regardless.
"Stop eye raping me!" she yelled, crossing her arms across her chest protectively as she spun around to face him. Her eyes were sharp with anger, but Chuck merely smiled, undeterred. His smirk widened as he replied,
"Slow down, Waldorf. Unless of course to want to go that fast…" he raised an eyebrow suggestively, sending her dangerously near her breaking point. Blair Cornelia Waldorf never sought a physical pummeling over a psychological when it came to revenge, but she was dangerously close to whipping that smirk off his face with a well aimed Gucci clutch. Her eyes began to dart about the room, searching for a projectile object of sorts when her gaze landed in disbelief on her crimson Valentino.
"Oh my god," she muttered, murder on her mind. Chuck seemed not to notice as he trudged on with his bad joke.
"I hadn't even gotten past mentally undressing you yet," he said with a smirk.
"Bass," she warned, dangerously low, "I'm going to kill you." He merely smirked, not the least bit worried for his safety. Blair Waldorf wasn't one to ruin her appearance only to seek immediate, painful revenge, right? Wrong. She stood up, smoothed down her skirt once, and closed her door slowly. Turning to face him, she saw a perverted joke lingering on the tip of his tongue, but she cut it short.
"You see that navy blue dress there?" she asked, motioning to her beautiful gown. Chuck turned his head, blanching when he saw what dress she was referring to. Nodding slowly, he turned to face her, bringing his hands up in surrender, his pride not quite as important to him as before.
"Blair, I didn't mean to wrinkle it, I swear!" Hurriedly, he reached down to lift the dress off the floor. Blair's face deepened to an angry purple when a loud rip sounded. Chuck suddenly looked like he wanted to simultaneously cry and throw up as he turned to look at her. "Sorry?" he whispered, his expression showing that he knew it was too late. The damage had been done.
"I'm going to make you unable to have children, Bass," she said quietly. The sound of a lock turning behind her made him wince, and she felt his eyes on her hand as she slipped the key into her bra for lack of a pocket. Afraid for his life, Chuck found himself doing what any sensible person would do; running to the room's adjoining bathroom and locking the door behind him. Turning around with a satisfied smirk back on his face, he saw something that made him nearly mess himself.
" Waldorf, how did you beat me in here?" he asked. Her eyes were wild, her hair becoming unkempt as she answered,
"I have my ways." Okay, that was just creepy. Suddenly she lunged, grabbing a hold of his trademark scarf and hanging on tight. He struggled in vain as she wrapped said scarf around his neck tightly, yanking him to the floor and kicking him repeatedly.
"You're going to pay for a new one, Bass hole!" she screamed wildly. He nodded vigorously in agreement.
"Yes!" he pleaded. "I'll pay for three new Valentinos, just please stop!" The shock of hearing Chuck Bass grovel and plead was enough to make Blair halt, letting his scarf fall slowly from her grasp.
"Of my choosing?" she asked suspiciously. He nodded, rubbing his neck irritably. Her lips turned up minutely at the corners over the promising outcome of this situation. Too fast for Chuck to have seen her coming, Blair launched herself atop him swiftly, placing her lips on his firmly, driving him mad with the warmth of her delicate mouth. Pulling back slightly, she grinned and pointed to her room.
"Clean up my closet, now!" A smirk grew on his mouth, and Blair glared at him suspiciously once again.
"Wouldn't you rather mess it up a bit?" he asked cockily, his voice taunting.
To someone unintentionally listening in from the hallway, say Dorota or even yourself, what happened next must have sounded very strange. But that's all you're to see and hear, for that's all you're meant to. Some happenings from within Miss Waldorf's room are to be kept private, but for what was said next...
"Bass!"
"Ouch, Waldorf!"
Need I say more? You're still here by your own will, are you not? You are one of the few who dare to listen.