Characters/Pairing: Chuck/Blair
Rating: PG13
Summary: "Baby, just because we got married doesn't mean you have to play the good little house wife and make me breakfast every morning."
...
She tosses her mahogany curls over her shoulder.
"Eat it." It's a command, not an option.
"It's green." He's eying it like its toxic waste.
"It's supposed to be! I wanted it to be special." Out comes her pretty little pout. He's weakening.
"Eggs aren't supposed to be green, Blair." It's his last try, and he's done for when he sees that her glare screams "murder" at him.
He groans, but picks up the fork anyways, "Baby, just because we got married doesn't mean you have to play the good little house wife and make me breakfast every morning."
She smiles and claps her hands in delight.
Slowly, he takes one bite. He's afraid for his life, but he chews it anyways. And now he's swallowing. Time ticks, the seconds go by, now it's been a minute.
"Well, I'm alive." He drawls.
Whack! She's slapped him across the head.
"Ow!" He rubs said abused head.
Now she's placed a coffee mug in front of him; the black liquid twirling around in the purple porcelain.
He's practically speechless.
"You made coffee?"
She eyes him haughtily. He shuts his eyes, his face contorted in a grimace as he fully expects another blow. When it doesn't come, he opens his eyes hesitantly to see her holding her small fingers up for him to see.
They're dirty; like covered in crushed coffee beans dirty. Her perfectly French manicured nails smeared with mocha powder. And it's a once in a lifetime sight.
He smirks. He grabs her tiny hands in his broad ones as he slowly examines them.
"Well, Mrs. Bass, this is truly a rare moment. You've gotten your hands dirty. How very naughty of you."
She rolls her eyes because she doesn't have a good enough comeback.
He smiles, because he loves to irritate her; push all the right buttons. So he pulls her down onto his lap, and smiles while kissing her cheek.
"Maybe I like this obedient wife thing." He loves the way she scrunches up her nose is disdain at those words.
"No way, I'm your wife not you're puppy."
He chuckles, "You're no puppy. You're my bitch."
She gives a shocked gasp, like the good girl she is.
His cocky smirk returns. "Maybe you should make me breakfast more often."
fin.
...
A/N: Ok so I'm not exactly sure what this is. I honestly really like how it starts off, but then I think it just ends really .. pointless. So yeah, just a little bit of fluff I guess. :)