They had broken up, again. Because they had a fight, again. He didn't know how the fight had started, he had been too drunk.
Oh right, it started, because he had been drunk.
Obviously he had forgotten that he had promised to escort her to one of her important events. She had been furious with him, because she definitely couldn't have shown up with a drunken companion and had cursed him and his lack of recall.
She then had undressed and dressed herself in front of him – he was sure it was her way to punish him under the motto just watching no touching – and had made herself presentable for the event. She had turned to him and had said that he better not be in her penthouse when she will be back.
Three years. Three years and they were still constantly breaking up and making up. But he didn't mind and neither did she.
He even enjoyed it.
Every other person would have been outraged to hear that he always got thrilled when they broke up, but they had no idea to what this always led: mind-blowing make up sex.
And now some days after that occurrence, he somehow fetched up in a club and found himself sitting on a couch with a scotch in his hand. Just hours before, he had shown up at her penthouse only to find her getting ready to go out. Although he apologized with flowers in his hand, she didn't seem to believe him and had told him to come around when he was able to stick by his words.
Her threat was still fresh in his mind.
"I am going out and will have fun with as many guys as I can so if you'll excuse me." She had told him with a challenging smile and a determined look on her face and had passed him.
He could easily call it a bluff, because he knew her. But then again, because he knew her he should actually be afraid, she had already surprised him more times than he preferred.
So if she was going to enjoy this night then so was he.
So he ended up in this club, enjoying his surrounding without his (ex-) girlfriend. In a club where he thought his (ex-) girlfriend would never set foot in.
He looked around to see if there was anything that he could pass his time with, when his eyes halted on a figure in the middle of the dance floor with her back on him.
Since Blair Waldorf no other woman had caught his attention like the one on the dance floor who was moving her hips slowly to the rhythm of the music. He couldn't tear his eye away from her; it was the way she danced that made his eyes motionless. He couldn't stare at something else than her.
He, himself, was a bit astounded that the girl was a blonde; he always thought he had a thing for brunettes.
Then he saw a guy walking towards her and he instinctively sat up from the couch, a feeling of possession and protection overloading him.
He took a last sip of his scotch and walked towards her, not quite knowing what led him to this action, he had never been one to dance.
There was something, pulling him towards her, but he waved it off with the explanation that he just needed a distraction.
Slowly he approached her, giving the other guy, who was also going to dance with her a look which told him to search another target. Chuck stopped behind her, placing his hands on her hips. When he felt no kind of rejection from her, he moved closer. Something about the way she danced and moved against him felt oddly familiar.
They were dancing shamelessly close when he placed one hand on her thigh. But then she turned around and they were standing there, face to face. Suddenly he understood why his body and feelings had reacted the way they did, moments before. He couldn't believe who was standing in front of him.
"You ass. I can't believe this!" It seemed like she couldn't believe it either.
It was no other than Blair Waldorf who growled at him, being totally pissed that it was him and knowing now why her body had reacted so relaxed when he had laid his hands on her hips. It looked like she was just too fond of that Mother Chucker, because normally she always dismissed the guy right away.
"Good to see you, too, Waldorf." He said, his smirk already plastered on his lips.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes for good measures. She slapped his hands away from her and was about to leave the dance floor, but Chuck's hand was quick enough to make her attempt to escape futile. He swirled her back to his chest.
He was smiling at himself, because he just realized that he never really had a thing for brunettes in particular, but just always for Blair.
"Why do you need a wig?" He asked, curious, he couldn't remember seeing her with a wig when he had been in her penthouse. She definitely looked hot as a blonde.
"To avoid you." She told him with a thinned lips smile – fake, he could tell –, again, trying to escape without success.
"My, my Waldorf, so you knew I was going to be here." He said with a satisfied expression on his face.
"No, that we're both here is surprisingly a coincident, but I knew that Gossip Girl would send out a blast if she had seen me here, and you, of course, would have come here and act like a dog, who wants to mark his territory." She said and he laughed.
"You are saying that you are my territory?" He asked her with raised eyebrows.
"In your eyes, yes. Something you possess and take for granted without doing something simple in return." She huffed, staring him down. He knew where this conversation was heading.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair; she wasn't up for his wit and she definitely wasn't going to let this one go. "I said I am sorry that I couldn't escort you and that I ruined you that night. I don't know how many times I need to tell you that." He said desperately.
"Until you mean it." She pouted and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"But I really do mean it. I swear that the next time I have to do something for you I won't mess it up." He told her and held both of her hands.
She shot him a sceptical glance, but she knew that she would give in, eventually.
"Now, please, come back home." He stated simply with genuine pleading eyes, always considering his home as their home, although they didn't live together. Not yet anyway.
"I really miss you there." He added and it wasn't a lie. They weren't really long apart. How long was it even? Two days? But to him it seemed like an eternity, because without her it never was the same.
She sighed and looked up to him, thinking his request through. Her mind clouded the second she felt his lips on hers, ever so softly. Their eyes met again and she couldn't help, but smiled.
"So what do you say?" He asked, wanting an answer from her which didn't include the word "no".
"Okay." She said and intertwined their fingers, fully knowing that their infamous circle of break ups and make ups would start again with that.
He smiled at her, but then, something behind her head caught his attention and his eyes narrowed.
She looked at him and her eyebrows knitted together, when she saw the look on his face.
Then she turned around to see what he was staring at.
"Would you excuse me for a second?" He asked, but walked away before she could answer.
Blair just looked after him as he had passed her.
He poked a guy's back and the guy turned around, only to be met with Chuck's fist in his face.
"Shit, dude, what the fuck is your problem?" The guy asked him, already seeing stars and reaching out his hand to touch his bruised face.
"Don't ever try to hit on her again." He warned him and with that he turned around to walk back to Blair, leaving a startled boy behind him.
"Was that necessary?" Blair asked him after he put an arm around her shoulder and walked her out of the club.
"You said yourself that I am a dog who likes to mark my territory." He quipped and kissed her fake hair. She shook her head, but let out a laugh as well.
And just like that they were Chuck and Blair again, together and where they belong.
A/N: Hope you liked it. Reviews make me smile :) Check out my other stories ;)