Title: Fictions Are Genius Lies
Title: Fictions Are Genius Lies
Author: dante de cervantes
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Pairing: lotsa pairings! But there will be surefire Waldsen!
Rating: T (as for now)
Summary: Blair's life swerves off the right side of the fast lane: bets, boys, backstabbing, blackmail, betrayal and bestfriends… and possible bisexuality. They're all threads to an intricate web of disaster. Eventual Waldsen. WARNING: FEMSLASH
Author's Notes: Greatly pissed because there are reports that Blake and Penn are going out… How sad…Wrote this after seeing some clips of School Lies and too much Cruel Intentions. Hope you guys like the pilot chapter. And please review if you think I should write more, or if you like it, or whatever's on your mind…
Disclaimer: I only own the plot and this story… Lovely characters belong to someone else…
Fictions Are Genius Lies
by dante de cervantes
PART I: Calm Before The Storm
According to your sources, she worked in a coffee shop downtown.
A bell over the door rings as you walk into this place they call a business.
"The sign outside says you want some help."
Vanessa Abrams stops wiping the counter clean to find Charles Bass wearing a contrastingly dirty smile.
She looks worried.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Chuck Bass..tard."
But apparently, she's not afraid.
"Docugirl!" you greet back with just as much enthusiasm.
"Is this really how you treat your customers?" you ask disapprovingly at her.
"We're closing." She says, indicating the empty store.
"Aww… C'mon, just one coffee?"
"Pay you triple, quadruple even?" You negotiate, putting on your most convincing smile.
Her eyes roll north and she does a 180 so all you can see is the back of her ugly-ass poncho and the knot that ties her apron together.
"And if you throw in the tape …" she turns around and you catch her eye. You look at her like you're honest-to-God serious about what you were going to say next
"…I swear that I'll give you anything you want…"
Her lips purse in skepticism. That's not always a good sign.
"Anything." You repeat, because maybe Vanessa is one of those people who couldn't afford the simple luxury of cotton swabs.
This time, she's actually listening to you. And you can tell by the way her eyes glazed that she wants something real, real bad.
Life is a business. A guy has got to know how to ease his way to the top by letting his promises pay for the benefits. Promises do the trick. That's how ironic it is.
"Do you want it black?"
You nod in approval and just like that, your pawn was put into play.
- - -
"I want Dan back…" she confesses frankly while she sets your order onto the table, her voice devoid of emotion. What do we have here? A charity case with a poker face?
Ah, finally, an honest person.
And honestly, you don't see what girls see in Humphrey. What's attractive about a deep, poetic, self-righteous fag ('who punches you occasionally', the ghost of your black eye reminds)?
You take a sip of your coffee. Cheap, like all things downtown.
Your silence gets her concerned but she tries to cover that up.
"Does it sound impossible?" her tone like a little hopeful girl's. "Do I have to go to Agent Ethan Hunt?"
Surprisingly, you laugh. The unexpected rumble in your throat causes you to choke on your coffee for a bit.
"You should be grateful that I've seen Mission Impossible… else that wouldn't have been humorous at all."
You dig your jacket for your pack of cigarettes. After the near-death-incident you weren't really up for caffeine.
"Everybody's seen MI." She states, like it's a fact.
Wrong. Nate hates Tom Cruise, he refuses to watch anything with the Jerry McGuire star in it. You should know, you've convinced him to watch Minority Report since you were thirteen.
"May I remind you that I'm not everybody?" you say coldly, being an absolute bitch.
"Should I remind you to get off your high horse and that I'm the one who has the tape?"
"Oh, I'm aware that you have the tape." you assure her. But no way in hell were you going to dismount your Bass bronco.
She's haughty, complacent with the fact that she has the momentary advantage. "Care to enlighten me about your plan and how it will take you one step closer to the only copy of Blair Waldorf's pseudo-confession?"
One copy. Good.
No plan yet. Bad.
Oh come on, even you couldn't think that fast. Who does she think you are? Her fairy godmother? Did you walk in here in a dress, matching hat and twittering wings, waving your wand like Humphrey's going to appear from out of nowhere in any second?
You light up a cig, "Why aren't you taking the initiative? Steal him from Serena?" the smoke puffing out decreasingly with every word.
"Because your girlfriend's breathing down my neck. She really shows her over-protectiveness of Serena in the weirdest ways." She pauses, probably to recollect her Blair-blessed memories. She takes a great intake of breath and lets it out with a "She threatened me with a pair of scissors." Confused about whether she should be amused or bothered by it.
If you were her, not saying that you want to be her or anything, you don't want to be a girl, much less a girl who works here because she has to… but if you were her, you'd be amused.
And your thoughts going completely off-topic here but…
If you have to be a girl, you'd want to be Serena. Because you and Serena are alike, in the way you guys fucked up. It's just that, Blair forgets all about it when Serena fucks up. And you could use some sympathy here…
It's even more effed up that the whore's still her best friend.
Now there definitely has to be some weird, equally effed up reason for that.
And you, you have to know everything. On top of that list, is why Blair forgave S. Because BF since pre-k doesn't get you a free pass into Blair's welcome arms after you slept with her boyfriend. That's just not how the normal world works.
Speaking of fucked up, so Blair threatened dear Vanessa here with an art-attack kit? How creative…
"Scissors, huh?"
She rolls her eyes at you, an affirmative, while you close yours and imagine Blair holding something other than any body appendage of yours.
"That's my psycho-bitch." You say proudly, tapping the cigarette's embers into an ashtray she brought you (along with the plain white mug of black coffee that tasted like crap).
She smiles sheepishly which causes you to ask about her sudden display of non-hostility.
"You know what? That I actually agree with."
"You know what?" you echo. "I think we might just get along."
"We might?" she repeats questioningly, slightly shocked that you said that.
You don't know. You say things, it doesn't mean that you have to mean them…
But another question should be pondered upon. And the answer is impertinent.
How to sabotage the relationship that is Dan and Serena?
What went wrong with the Prince and the Pauper? How in the world of the rich and the poor did they end up together? Because it was so clearly obvious that the Prince's sight should've never been desecrated by the pauper's presence in the first place.
Your thoughts start grumbling, 'Dumb story…'
DanandSerena is like 1+1 equals 11. They're together, but they don't add up.
So Serena's a slut, but a rich slut deserves better.
That is it!
You need to find Serena a 'better' with whom she will have an outrageously mind-blowing affair with so LonelyBoy will come running(with tears, you wish) back to DocuGirl's arms.
And the leading candidate for that 'better' is a certain overprotective best friend.
You smile. You admit, though it's a tad sketchy at the moment, it is still congruent enough to be called a plan. You could always go back to the drawing board later.
But the 'better' was already written with a permanent marker.
"Yes, Vanessa. We just might."
He's finally back from Monaco and you're reluctantly back from your fairytale escape of a holiday.
He called you earlier that morning, said he wanted to talk.
And now you're here, eyeing his famous Babe Ruth ball while he's in the shower… Or whatever he was doing in there. Because, this was Chuck we were talking about.
When he comes out, he has nothing but a towel on.
Is this his idea of cute?
Not that you're totally ungrateful that he didn't go out naked it's just…
You'd rather look at the Babe Ruth ball, not the Chuck Bass ones. You've seen his more than enough already.
"Wait long?"
"The fact that I waited should make you crawl to your grave right now." You inform him.
He holds his hands up like a criminal caught. It feels like you were holding a gun to his face. And that feeling pleases you very greatly for the moment.
"Let me at least come clean." He jokes with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
You put on a sneer, "Get dressed."
He walks back into the living area in slacks and a crisp long-sleeved shirt. He sits down on the couch to put his socks on. He sees you standing there with your arms cross and he pats the space next to him on the couch.
"Don't you want to sit?"
Chuck notices you're unwilling to even touch any of his expensive European upholstery. He purses his lips into a coy pout-smirk that only a boy like Chuck Bass can pull off, "Or have you changed your mind? Want me in that bed with you?" he asks cockily in between putting his left and right sock on, glancing at the bed right across the couch.
Chuck Bass was.is.will-probably-always-be a bastard.
You sit at one of the chairs in front of him instead. Maybe nothing bad will happen if you were on different pieces of furniture.
The question has bugged you long enough for it not to be asked, "Have you told Nate?"
"No…" you feel a momentary wave of relief until he says, "Well, not yet."
"He was going on and on about how great things were between the both of you. I didn't want to spoil his party over the holidays. Nathaniel is just the dearest after he's had sex." He quickly narrates, looking you in the eye, quietly challenging you to jump over the coffee table and strangle him senseless because at least, you'd be touching him.
And you know that's what he really wants. For you to touch him again.
You cross your legs and arms, unsure of yourself.
"Why so quiet Blair? I'm not really in the mood for follow the leader. See, I know how to kiss, and I know how to tell."
Chuck pushes himself off the couch and walks to his closet to pull out a bowtie. He sits in front of his vanity and he flings the tie over his neck expertly.
"Knowing that the both of us have too much cash in our hands, it'd be absurd for you to buy my silence." He pulls the bow into a perfect tie and it looks like he almost wants to pat himself on the head for a job-well-done. You wonder if that is the only source of happiness he has left.
He turns on his stool to face you, "That's why the only option you have... Is to win my silence."
You suddenly tense in apprehension. Certainly, when Chuck's in one of his I-rule-the-world moods, it doesn't benefit anyone but Chuck himself.
"What about the tape?" you ask, more concerned about the cold, hard proof and how you don't want Nate to see it in his life, ever.
His eyes flash something unreadable and for a second there you're hoping that he doesn't have the tape. But knowing Chuck, there would be loaded dice. He plays not to win, but to see people lose.
His voice is cool, calm and collected, "The footage is secure."
It doesn't sound like he's lying so basically… the feeling you have right now is a mix of suicidal and obsessive-compulsive. It's as if Hiroshima and Nagasaki decided to do a re-enactment inside your head at the same time.
But of course, you weren't going to let him see that.
"And if you don't want Nate seeing a second of the tape, I suggest you play a little game with me." He says tauntingly, inclined towards you with his elbows resting on his knees.
"So what do you say? Up for a little wager, Waldorf?"
Betting with a Bass always turns out to be very ugly for the contender. But like he said, you have one option left. And that is to play his 'little game' just as ruthlessly as he calls the shots.
"The terms?" you ask, signifying your possible participation.
He smiles back, lecherously. He's probably thought about this all winter. And he starts with his evil monologue.
"You were aware that father proposed to Lily van der Woodsen last Christmas, right? Well, turns out, Lily's still in love with Rufus Humphrey and she turned my old man down. And he took it out on me when he arrived at Monaco… Let's just say that it wasn't the best Christmas, you breaking my heart and all."
He says every word like he isn't upset. You're good at that too, guarding your emotions like they were diamonds and dresses. Save for some times with Serena and Nate. It bothers you more when one of them lets you down.
"It's kind of sad, the Humphrey's taking over…"
"So?" you ask, still unable to connect the dots.
"I don't want that happening to our generation." He replies spitefully. But he doesn't seem to stop there, "Jennifer and Daniel have done their fair share of serf-rebellion, it's ridiculous really… how they think I can't get back at them…"
You know where this was coming from, you feel the same thing. Your throne as Constance Billard Queen constantly being threatened by Little J and Dan, he threatened your bestfriend-ship with Serena.
And as much as you hate to admit, you dislike Dan more… You only put up with him for Serena's sake.
She needs someone who'll take care of her in every aspect thinkable… who'll take her home when she's nonsensically drunk, who'll be able to pay for her occasional jet-setting sprees, who'll hold her hand when she's at the dentist as she detests any kind of oral pain, who gets along with Eric because she looks up to him more than he does her, who'll watch Breakfast at Tiffany's over coffee and croissants with her for the reason that she loves those Sunday mornings as much as you do...
Pretty soon, Serena will have to realize that Dan Humphrey can't give her all that.
"…But Daniel… I hate his guts."
Chuck seems to agree with you too, his black eye making him sure of that.
"If you win, I give you the tape and you are free to do whatever you please with it."
You give him a slight nod that indicated your understanding and for him to continue dishing out the other part of the bargain.
"If I win…" he starts cockily, thinking he probably will, "…then I keep the tape, maybe show it to Nate one day, before Valentine's? Let's see how he'll react to hear that his pure and honest girlfriend of many years slept with his best friend who bangs anything in his field of vision… But when he knows that you faked the V-card on him, it'll get him so riled up."
"Get me another Carter Baizen, Nate needs to take it out on somebody!" and he throws his hands up in the air, feigning panic.
Beneath your icy façade, you were frowning. You finally realize just how high the stakes are.
"Think about it…" he advises before grabbing a comb on the table.
If you want to keep Nate, then there's no other choice…
Through a dry throat, you manage to find your voice. "What do I have to do?"
Chuck doesn't answer yet.
You wait until after every strand on his head is in its proper place. After which, he takes a hand and runs it through his hair, achieving the desired effect of 'elegantly dishevelled'.
Then he answers you.
"I want Dan so ruined that he has to crawl back to Brooklyn. He has no business here in the Upper East Side."
Sure, Dan's a morally positive influence to everyone, especially to your best friend… but if he were to go away, you'd have your fully devoted Serena back.
You find the idea appealing and you try to hold back on the enthusiasm as you ask, "And how do I ruin Dan Humphrey?"
"Simple. By sleeping with Serena." He states plainly, like it's the most normal thing in the universe.
What the fuck, Chuck?!
You get up in outrage and make you way to him. You tower over him on his stool threateningly.
He knows that he ruined every chance he had with you. So why not try and make your life a living hell?
"What's wrong with you, Bass?!" you yell at him, exasperated, done with being cordial.
"What's not wrong with me?" he shoots back, he stands so that the both of you are leveled. Thank God you chose not to wear your Lanvin ballet flats, they wouldn't have helped in this situation.
He grabs your arm in a rude fashion that it disorients you for a second. Then he kisses you. Rough and hard and desperate. You remember the limo and your birthday, alcohol and jewelry, the fight you had with Serena because she found out… Nate not being there…
But he loves you again, and you have to do everything in your power for him to not see that tape.
So you push Chuck off… harshly. He stumbles backwards and knocks over the stool by accident.
"You were the best I've ever had, Blair." He suddenly tells you in his dishevelled state.
What's funny is… he looks like he doesn't believe that the words came out of his mouth. You stare at him in a mixture of disgust and pity, never thinking that a Bass could be looked upon like that.
"I think I'd much prefer doing my best friend than getting in bed with you any day." You say quietly, but with a tinge of guilt for bringing S into it.
And by the looks of it, you hurt him.
His expression changes and pain is dropped immediately, he straightens himself out. This is how the best of the UES work. Nobody can remember what they look like when displeased.
"So I take it that you're in on the bet?"
You don't know. You couldn't do that to Serena.
"It's sick." You point out to him.
"No, it's Sapphic."
You slap him with all the strength a recent manicure allows that his face snaps to the side.
"Don't get your panties in a twist, Waldorf." He groans angrily while cupping his face.
You hurry for the door, sometimes his shit is just too much to take in one sitting.
"I can always ask Nate to come by later, maybe watch some home videos?" he chips in, stopping you from turning the knob.
Your hand drops to your side in submission.
"Why me?" you ask, your voice cracking and you want to kill yourself for displaying such a shameful sign of weakness.
His expression doesn't soften as he answers you, "You see, I want you wrecked too. Because I know that it hurts you just as much when you hurt Serena."
You bite your bottom lip to keep it from shaking, wishing the pain will stop you from crying. It's the truth. Unfortunately, Chuck had to be one to tell you that.
"And to think that you'd be doing it to keep Nate. It'll probably feel like getting your heart broken too."
Your cheeks are wet and you wipe the dampness off in self-resentment.
Nate and Serena both mean the world to you. And Chuck is making you choose one over the other… All because you slept with a Bass.
The perfect revenge. And you weren't even the one who thought about it.
"Do I have myself a bet?" he questions, holding out his hand.
Nathaniel Archibald has always been your future. And you choose sensibility.
The groom over the maid of honor.
Your hand is wet and you share its dampness with Chuck Bass as you shake his.
He plays not to win, but to see people lose.
But you're Blair Waldorf.
And you were going to make damn sure that you weren't going down without a fight.
Author's Note: Come on and make my day, feedback guys…ü