Hello everyone. I thought I'd submit a little something for the limoversary x
2015
They stood side by side at the window of their townhouse, eyes fixated on the mechanical contraption that slowly lifted the vehicle they had loved for all these years. For Chuck, now twenty-four, it had been ten years exactly. Ten years since his father purchased his beloved limousine with its leather seats and darkened windows; it became a haven of debauchery, decadence for riding around the streets of Manhattan whilst a certain brunette rode him. He smirked at the thought in spite of his sombre mood.
"Bass," Blair squeezed his hand, "Are you ok?"
"I'm fine," he declared. He was lying. She could tell by the way his voice wobbled, the way he bit his lip. She could have sworn she heard him whimper as the giant metal hook dug into the (exceptionally) shiny black metal of the car hood. Chucks faithfully limo, his Bass mobile as Nate liked to call it, had finally reached an end. It seemed the years of endless curb crawling, driving to Jesus Camps and weddings for two guys in matching hats had finally taken its toll. The vehicle was seemingly fine until an incident yesterday. Chuck was late for a board meeting and Henry insisted on spitting up his entire breakfast on his Daddy's Burberry suit. A culmination of a cyclist, a cab and an impatient Bass led to its ultimate demise. Luckily no one was hurt but Chuck made sure his chauffeur was given a hefty bonus for the trauma.
"Well get you a new one," Blair reassured him, wrapping her arms around his waist, "Exactly the same."
"It's not the same," he murmured, eyes still fixated on the vehicle about to be toed, "We have a lot of memories in there."
"I know," she knowingly grinned, on the seats, on the floor, up against the window, on the trunk at 3am…she buried her face into his neck placing a soft kiss, "It's a pity we won't be able to make any more."
He let out a small a chuckle at his wife's insatiable sexual appetite, "Mind out of the gutter Waldorf."
"You know how much I enjoy your limo…well, enjoyed your limo," she winced at her words.
"And now it's gone," he sighed dramatically flopping himself on their couch, "I should pay for the MET to place it in an exhibit, it's a part of New Yorks history."
"It's a part of our history."
"And we are New York, Queen B," he lightly mocked her self-appointed adolescent title. He lay his head in her lap as she began to stroke her hands through his hair, "I remember a certain chastity belt removed in the back of that very limo. The memory of you purring in my ear…"
"Which I've been replaying over and over to you ever since," she giggled. He puckered up his lips prompting Blair's response.
2007
They lay on the limo floor. Blair on her back. Her slip bunched up at her waist, the top recklessly pulled down, one strap broken. Legs apart. Chuck slumped over her, elbows either side of her head, trousers around his ankles, shirt ripped open. They both panted trying to regain their breath neither of them wanting to make eye contact.
Chuck was the first to move. He pushed himself up from the space between her legs onto his knees and began to re-button his shirt. He scanned the limo for his bow tie eventually finding it tossed in the champagne bucket next to a pair of white lace panties. He sat down on the leather seat behind him, quickly sliding off the used condom and began to pull his pants up. Chuck attempted to say something, anything but the words wouldn't come out. This was Blair Waldorf, his best friend's girlfriend and he'd just fucked her in the back of his limo. 'Fuck' was the wrong word he thought to himself. He didn't fuck her but it wasn't 'making-love.' Chuck Bass did not make love to anyone. But it felt like more than just a fuck. Fucking was what he did with prostitutes, girls from bars or members of the Constance choir if he couldn't be bothered to seek out women after school.
He glanced at the girl (now a woman, he'd made sure of that) still lying on the floor. She hadn't moved from her position. Her legs were still quivering. "We'll be near your house soon," he winced at his words, slightly embarrassed at his weak conversation opener. It was almost like he was nervous talking to her.
"Okay," she whispered, "Thanks." She pulled herself up into a seated position and re-arranged what was left of her slip.
"Here," Chuck extended his arm out to her. She took his hand and he pulled her up beside him. "Take this." He held up his jacket as she fed her arms through the sleeves. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, Chuck observed for a few seconds before taking her hands in his and assisting her.
"Thanks."
"For what? Helping you or the deflowering?" He winced again.
A small smile tugged at her lips. He allowed himself to grin too. They gazed at each other for what felt like a few minutes before the limo finally pulled over outside Blair's building. Chuck opened the door next to him and made room for Blair to slide over him. She slid across his lap but hovered over him leaning in for a kiss. He responded as the pair locked lips once more (and for the last time, Blair thought to herself). It was searing. Intense.
"Goodnight Bass," she swiftly exited the limo.
Then he felt it. There was something in his stomach, fluttering.
2015
"You stole my panties!" she frowned at her husband as he finished recalling his story.
"I didn't steal them dearest, you left them in my ice bucket," he defended himself.
"But you didn't give them back."
"I gave you your first orgasm in return; I'd say that's a decent trade."
"Who said that was my first orgasm?" she folded her arms and stuck her tongue out between her teeth.
He raised his eyebrows curiously, "Well now I just have an image of a young sexually frustrated Blair masturbating furiously as Nate ditches her again for his Lacrosse team."
"No change there then," she teased.
"Excuse me?" he was slightly offended, "I know for a fact I keep my wife satisfied. In fact she makes it pretty obvious."
"But what does poor Mrs Bass do when her husband decides to go on month long business trips? All alone and unsatisfied…"
"Well you should come with me. It will be like a second honeymoon."
"Sex all day every day?" Blair beamed remembering their two-month long trip, "So many beautiful dresses I never got to wear such a pity."
"They would have been spoiled when I tore them off anyway."
2013
They had been making out for what seemed like an eternity, like two teenagers on their way to prom. But they were two married adults on their way to the airport ready to board their private jet to take them on honeymoon. The past month had been a whirlwind from plane crashes and Bart's death to an impromptu wedding and a Waldorf-Bass family Christmas. It was full of ups and downs. They felt the pure joy of finally being married and having the security of a family. But its low points also crept in trying to ruin what should be their happiest moments. Speculation on the Upper East Side was at its highest, Chuck was unable to escape the whispers and gossip every time he walked into a room. The board of Bass Industries were arranging a vote of no confidence, with many of its members refusing speak to or acknowledge Chuck. He'd often come home and bury his head in her lap luckily her embrace was enough to coax whatever was wrong out of him.
"Hmm," she hummed against his lips. He hungrily placed more kisses down her neck, open mouthed, licking and biting along the way. She gasped happily. "Let's just do it now," her voice wobbled as she felt his hand firmly on that spot in between her legs, she squealed at the sensation.
Chuck almost grunted in response. He pushed her down onto the seat in one swift motion knocking her navy blue Birkin onto the floor and spilling its contents. Two passports, a lip stick, condoms, contraceptive pills (she had her priorities in order), her phone and…a rolled up issue of the New York Post which had now unravelled itself revealing its front page. Normally spills, smashes and tears would not distract Chuck Bass midway through foreplay, it was part of the fun, but this time it was more than sufficient. The front page possessed a picture of Chuck under the headline in bold letters that read 'CHARLES BASS: MURDERER?' .
"Blair what is this?" he sat up and reached down for the newspaper, he began to scan through the pages.
Blair sighed pulling the paper out of his hands, "It's nothing okay? You said it yourself these stories are fabricated for women who collect ceramic cats."
"It's not fabricated though is it?" Chuck ran a hand through his hair, "It's true."
"No it's not," she abruptly cut him off; "We know it's not true. It was not murder. It was self-defence." She affirmed defiantly, "They 'know' nothing. It's pure speculation."
"Speculation is enough to influence public opinion." Chuck sighed turning to look at his wife.
"And since when has Chuck Bass ever cared about what people thought of him," she cupped his face in her hands. He looked lost his expression reminded her of their graduation night, when she told him that she loved him and he couldn't respond.
"You were hiding it from me weren't you?" Chuck was well aware that Blair and Dorota looked through his papers every morning to ensure he never found any articles printed about him. Although they knew it was not true they knew how he'd react.
"Only to protect you Chuck. I love you," she placed a soft kiss on his lips, "My opinion should be the only one what matters." She smiled against his mouth. "We are going to a deserted private island somewhere in the Caribbean where we can walk around naked all day and roll around all night. No newspapers, no phones, no internet. We won't have to hear anything they say about us." She took his hand in hers, "And when we come back. It will all be over. They will have found the latest scandal and we'll be free to run our Empires side by side."
"You're amazing," he kissed the top of her head, "Now where were we?"
She pulled his hand back up her dress, "Right about here."
2015
Beep Beep Beep.
The truck began to pull out from the sidewalk into the road dragging the diagonally angled limo with it.
"It's leaving Chuck," Blair twisted her head around to look out the window, "Do you want to watch?"
"No. Thank you." Chuck let out an almost shaky breath and Blair almost snorted with laughter.
"It's like the limo was your first child!" Blair laughed hoping to pull Chuck out of his misery. Chuck pouted in response, the exact same pout that Henry did. "Which reminds me Henry needs feeding…"
"I think it's safe to say that the minute our first child planted itself inside you, it went through hell…" Chuck murmured.
"Are you talking about the limo again?"
2014
The smartly dressed couple sat side by side as the limousine made its way down the streets of the Upper East Side. They were en route to this year's Cotillion although they didn't know any of the debutantes, Serena had organised the event (she'd taken to events planning) so they were there to show moral support. Blair wore a gorgeous golden Oscar De La Renta gown that was covered in sparkling jewels and sequinned detail. Chuck opted for a tux complete with gold bow tie and pocket square to match.
"You know I'm probably ovulating." Blair said as she re-applied her lipstick, "This is prime time Bass!"
They had been trying for a baby for the past two months and Blair had become slightly frustrated that they (to her knowledge) were yet to conceive. They had been having sex more than usual (although their peers could not understand how this was possible) often squeezing in sessions before and after work, on the way to events. In fact it was highly likely that their baby would be conceived in the back of that very limo. It was never a chore for the Basses though, it was their favourite activity.
"I love you and I know how long it took you to do that hair do, so I will refrain from any activity until after the event," Chuck replied.
"Chuckkk," she whined.
"Blaaaaiiir," he drawled, "Don't you think it's killing me too? Especially when you look so devastating."
"I just can't believe I'm not pregnant yet," she pouted crossing her arms.
"Well you'd have to take a pregnancy test to know that," he said. Blair hadn't actually taken a pregnancy test it was a combination of fear, anxiety and insistence that 'her body will know.'
"I don't want to get excited and let myself down," she rested her head on his shoulder.
He kissed the top of her head softly, "We're going to have a baby Blair. Whether that's 9 months from now or years. It's going to happen." He tilted her head up to kiss her on the lips but her hand suddenly slammed across his mouth. She then covered her own but it was no use. She choked, her stomach lurched, she keeled over and emptied the entire contents of her stomach.
"Oh my god," she coughed up more.
The acidic fumes began to spread around the limo. Chuck grabbed the ice bucket, held it under her chin and rubbed her back. "Blair are you…?"
"Pregnant!" she exclaimed before sticking her head back in the bucket. Arthur, hearing the scene unfold, muttered under his breath, there was no way he was cleaning that up.
8 months later…
"I don't even like beige why would get a baby something that was beige? If you know I'm having a boy then you would at least have the decency to get something both gender, age and taste appropriate," she ranted throwing the opened box as far away from her as she could manage.
The box and baby clothes landed on Serena's head who was sitting opposite her in the limo. She had actual tears in her eyes, "I'm sorry B, and I just thought you'd like it. They're bespoke pieces."
"They're ugly that's what they are," she muttered, "That's what you think isn't it? Ugly clothes for my ugly baby! Well I've got news for you Serena. My baby will be beautiful and he'll smell like Christmas and sunshine. You got that?"
"Crystal clear," Serena rolled her eyes. Her overdue best-friend was proving increasingly impatient, full of rage and very emotional.
"Good." She rubbed her enlarged stomach.
The door opened and a dishevelled looking Chuck slid into the vehicle with a brown paper bag in hand, printed on it were two golden arches.
"Hand it over," Blair's eyes lit up at the package and she snatched it out of her husband's hands.
"To think she used to get that excited when she saw me."
She prized it open and stuffed the burger into her mouth almost face-planting herself into the bun. Blair looked up at her husband and sister-in-law with mayo and ketchup spread around her face, "You tell no one of this. No one." She then continued to munch on her greasy snack (yes, snack).
Portions of lettuce, dollops of mayo and bread crumbs dropped down onto the seat surrounding her.
"Blair could you use a napkin?" Chuck offered one to his wife but quickly retracted his arm when she growled at him. Out of the corner of her eye she spied Serena with her camera phone sneakily hidden behind her handbag.
"Serena," she cried, "what are you doing?"
"Getting blackmail material," Serena grinned.
"Chuck tell her to stop," Blair wailed, mouth full of McDonalds.
"Well now there's just food everywhere. My seats are ruined," Chuck was focused on wiping his seats down.
"This is my fave picture of you B," she teased holding it up to show her.
"Give that here," Blair struggled to lean forward and was ultimately held down by her own belly.
"Seriously use a napkin," Chuck's voice grew louder as did Blair's.
"Give it to me!" she shouted.
"Nope!" Serena shot back.
"Chuck!" she wailed.
"Napkin!" he responded.
"I'm so sending this to Nate!" Serena cheered!
Blair gasped. There was a gushing sound and her dress was soaked through from the waist down. The clear liquid pooled around her feet and spread across the leather surface that she sat on. There was complete silence.
"Blair," Chuck said slowly, "I think your water just broke."
Luckily, Arthur now kept a bottle of anti-bacterial spray in the glove compartment.
2015
"I was pregnant! You're allowed to do whatever you want when you're pregnant, it wasn't my fault," Blair cried.
"The vomit and amniotic fluid I concede but the McChicken sandwich, that was all you." He spanked her playfully on the ass.
"Well now you're making me feel bad," she pouted.
He kissed her lips, "It wasn't all bad Mrs Bass."
August 2014, the best day…
Chuck carefully lay down the tiny bundle into his car seat and kissed him on the nose. Henry Charles Bass was the most beautiful baby he had ever seen and the most precious thing to him. The feeling was indescribable, he didn't think he could love something that much, from the moment he slid into the world all pink, slippery and screaming he was completely in love. They were bound for life.
He turned his attention away from his new-born son to his wife who was being slowly assisted out of her wheelchair. He crossed over to her, held her hand and supported her back as he walked her to the limo. She gingerly lowered herself onto the seat. Chuck pulled her seatbelt across her and fastened it into place. This was the most valuable load his limo had ever had to hold and it was his job to take care of them.
As they finally settled the car pulled away from the hospital en route to their new home. Chuck glanced at his sleeping son next to him and watched intently as his little chest moved up and down. His eyes looked up at the woman to his right she too watched their child although her eyes began to flutter open and closed. Fifteen hours of labour had exhausted her. They didn't need to speak, they knew it, and the feeling was euphoric.
Chuck looked out the window as the limo glided past the shops, restaurants and houses of Manhattan. A traffic light brought them to a rolling stop and it was then that he observed a certain burlesque club. Its doors were closed (it was the afternoon) but above it was a sign written in italics 'Victrola.' He smiled softly at the memory.
"Where it all began," Blair whispered over her sleeping son.
He kissed her passionately.
2015
"That was the best memory," Chuck said as he pulled a gurgling Henry into his lap.
Blair had tears in her eyes as she looked upon her husband and son.
"The back of the limo was sacred," Chuck affirmed, "but this," he gestured to his family, "means everything to me."
"Are you sure?" she mocked, "you seemed pretty cut up about it a moment ago."
"Mock all you want Waldorf but I know you feel a twinge of sadness over it my limo's demise," he replied whilst removing his tie from Henrys mouth. "But fear not, next week a new one will be on its way."
"And we'll christen it," Blair interjected.
"My thoughts exactly Mrs Bass."
"Meet at Victrola?"
"Nine-thirty sharp."