There was a thunderstorm on the Upper East Side.
Rain pelted down on the glossy automobiles and rattling streetcars while lightning flashed around the dizzying heights of the grand buildings.
In the penthouse of one such building, the sound of laughter and bright lights drowned out all traces of the storm.
But that was in the parlour.
Upstairs, in a darkened bedroom where thick doors blocked out the lively classical music from below, the thunder sounded ready to crash through the windows at any moment. Or so it seemed to the two dark heads bent together on the matress, voices low even though there was no one there to hear them.
"I'm not scared," the girl insisted again, fiercely.
And she wasn't. Really. She just didn't like thunderstorms. They were big and out of reach, and she couldn't see them and she couldn't control them.
The boy loved them. He couldn't help but find something thrilling about that much uncontrolled power in the sky; and lying alone in his silent bedroom, the rumble of thunder tended to comfort him more than anything else.
There was a particularly large crash and a set of nails pressed, hard, into his palm. He glanced over at her, big brown eyes wide in the dark.
"It's just God moving the furniture," he informed her. And, as the room was briefly illuminated, the white of her nightgown brilliant; "And that's him trying to fix the lights."
She gave him a look for a moment - and then she couldn't help it, she was grinning. A slight giggle escaped before she could stifle it.
"Who told you that, Bass?"
He shrugged. He'd thought it was pretty funny at the time too. "My nanny."
"The loony religious one?"
"No," he smirked at the mention of said nanny. They'd soon got rid of her. "The old Irish one."
"I liked her," the girl reflected eventually, remembering. "She made the best gingerbread. Why didn't you keep her?"
The boy shrugged again, lifting his small shoulders. "Father sent her away." The he gave her another glance, leaning closer as his voice dropped to share a secret. "I heard them having a big row. She kept shouting and telling him I needed a family."
Her nose wrinkled along with his. "But you have a family."
They hadn't seen enough of the world yet to know that in normal families, parents actually spent time with their children.
He nodded in agreement, leaning even closer. "She told me that in Ireland, her family all ate together." And, as her eyes widened - "Every meal."
Well, that just made no sense. Everyone knew nannies were meant to feed children.
"I had supper with you today," she pointed out.
Another huge crash sent her hand reaching blindly for his; and this time, he gripped back.
"You're my family," she said, firmly. Simply. And in that moment, as two young pairs of dark eyes locked, hands interlinked, it really was that simple.
"Her."
The club was dim and smoky, the flickering lights over the gyrating girls its only illumination. Low blues crooned from a corner; and in the centre, two men were sprawled over plush velvet sofas. Everything, from their slick suits to the expensive glasses of scotch and the hat tipped over the darker one's face, oozed rich arrogance. They were both handsome – both dangerous - and they both knew it.
The one who had just spoken was the fairer of the two, icy blue eyes currently resting on a girl by the bar. The other followed his gaze.
His eye roll followed soon after.
"Absolutely not."
They both watched as the girl stood there, conspicuously out of place in her high buttoned coat, hands clasped tightly and a look of displeasure on her face.
It had been a while, Chuck reflected – but Blair Waldorf hadn't changed. He wondered, idly, if she'd bloomed under that ridiculously concealing coat. Then again, what difference did it make? It wasn't like she'd ever let anyone see. Why did girls who wasted their potential like that even bother going out?
"Why?" Carter drawled. They watched her furious glare as she sidestepped an over-eager lech. If only looks could kill. "She's perfect. Old money, daddy's little princess," - her shudder was visible as her gaze swept over a half-naked dancer - "Pure as they come." Carter smirked. "You couldn't ask for a better bride to impress Bart."
Chuck snorted.
"I want my trust fund, Baizen. Not a prison sentence."
His friend shrugged. "She fits all the criteria."
Chuck's lips twitched, faintly, at the look of horror on Blair's face as someone else tried to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. Her heel in his shin soon had the unfortunate man stumbling away.
"I said I wanted an easy target," he pointed out.
And at that, a gleam entered Carter's eye. "Are you saying you don't think you can do it?"
"Please." Chuck scowled. "Have you forgotten who you're talking to?" He glanced back at her; now she was attempting to snap something at the bartender, lips pinched. What was she even doing here? He bet he could guess. "I'd rather not waste my effort on a prize that isn't even worth it."
There was a brief silence, and Carter's eyes narrowed. "Two million dollars isn't worth it?"
There was a note of warning in his voice. Reminding him – as if Chuck needed reminding. Never in his life had he found himself needing money; he wasn't about to forget what it felt like now.
He gave Carter a filthy look, which the other man ignored. Of course.
"Besides," he went on. "Bart might find it a little more convincing if he sees you trying. If it's too easy, he'll know you're just doing it for the money."
Blair's lips were getting tighter and tighter as she got angrier and angrier with the bartender. Not that she would raise her voice, of course – not even in a place like this. She was far too well-trained.
"In fact, I'd say Blair Waldorf is the most believable option. Didn't the two of you used to be childhood sweethearts?"
His lip curled as he said it, and Chuck sneered back.
(You're my family)
Chuck Bass didn't do sweethearts.
"Childhood acquaintances," he corrected coldly.
"So your parents know each other." They both looked at her again; Carter's voice was smug. "She's perfect."
"All I'm asking you to do," Blair seethed, "Is tell me if you've seen her or not. Is it that hard?"
Her night had gone from bad to worse. She'd walked into so many seedy clubs that her feet were killing her (not that she'd ever dream of removing her shoes) – not to mention the destruction this would cause her reputation if anyone saw her.
Luckily, the kind of people in these places were not the ones she associated with. But if she had to put up with one more creepy, repulsive, slimy -
"Let me guess. Golden girl has fallen off the wagon again?"
Her shoulders stiffened.
She turned, coldly, almost wishing she was facing one of those disgusting creeps now. Or at least, an unknown disgusting creep.
But she'd know that voice anywhere. And, as her eyes swept over his face, that smirk. Ugh. Chuck Bass the man was even worse than the boy.
"Just when I didn't think this place could get any worse."
His golden eyes were lazy under the shadow of his hat, clearly unaffected by her spite.
"Lovely to see you too."
"Sorry," she sneered. "I don't have time to catch up. Excuse me." She turned her back on him with the intention of berating the bartender once more; and then froze as she felt a hand grip her arm, stopping her in her tracks.
She yanked herself free, appalled.
"Let go of me, Bass!"
He seemed to find her indignation quite amusing. He ignored it, in any case, nodding over in the direction he'd just turned her.
"That's not what you're looking for, then?"
A beautifully dishevelled blonde was swaying in the opposite corner, a man on either side.
"Well," Chuck smirked as they both watched her. "At least someone knows how to have a good time." Blair shot him a glare of disgust. "Tell me," he enquired, "Why are you the one chasing after her yet again? Where's her fiance?"
"He's at the van der Bilt estate for the weekend," she snapped.
He repressed a snort. "What lives you lead."
But she didn't have any more time to waste on him; she was already heading over to the blonde, jaw set.
She managed to extract her best friend from the men's hold, despite being a head smaller than her, and was attempting to pull her out of the club when the drunken idiots realised what was happening.
"Hey, where are you going?" To her repulsion, one of them bent down into her face so that she was almost smothered by the scent of alcohol on his breath. "The party's just starting!"
She tried to get past them, but it was almost impossible with Serena's weight on her as well; and now one of them was reaching for her waist and she couldn't get away.
Tomorrow morning, she was going to kill Serena.
Her grit her teeth. "Get – off-"
"Gentlemen," a drawl sounded from behind her. "Thank you for looking after my girls. I wondered where they'd got to."
Blair turned in outrage, but Chuck had already taken hold of her waist - harder and tighter than the other men's attempts - his other arm looping around Serena's as he steered them away from the drunkards.
He couldn't help but notice, however stiff she was in his hold, that she did have a nice little waist, its curve fitting softly into the crook of his arm. And she was deliciously hot against him.
Once they were clear, she yanked herself away once more, grabbing Serena too.
"You're welcome," he informed her drily, enjoying the hot flush of pink on her white cheeks.
"Yes," she sneered back. "Thank you for molesting me." She'd already regained her composure, face pale once more.
Chuck raised an eyebrow. "You really do have no idea what molesting is, do you?" He took a step towards her, leaning in to make her feel trapped; "I'd be happy to show you."
He caught the rise of her throat as she swallowed, the sweep of her eyelashes -
"Oh, Chuck..."
And then extreme pain, as her heel made contact with the second shin of the night. Her eyes flashed, cold.
"Don't ever touch me again."
She took hold of Serena and marched her out without a backwards glance.
Chuck gazed after her, his shin still throbbing as Carter emerged from the shadows to appear at his side.
"So?"
Chuck's eyes narrowed, dark in the dim light. "All right." The two men watched the club door swing shut. "Her."
A/N - Ok, I know I really really shouldn't be starting a new fic when I have...not just one, but TWO, unfinished fics, but...I was watching 3x07 again and this idea wouldn't leave me, so I figured I should get it written down fast! For anyone interested, I promise promise I will be finishing 'The Darkest Though You Ever Had' and 'Homecoming'. I haven't forgotten them!
And in the meantime...pretty please review this one if there's any interest? :)