Summary: No, this is not a fic where Blair goes crazy and loses her mind. She's merely driven insane by Chuck…in a good way. Set immediately after 2.10 "Bonfire of the Vanity." Chuck gives Blair her birthday present.

A/N: Another smutty one-shot! Hooray! :) Actually, it's more than just smut… This has been in my head for a while, so I decided to finally write it down. Not sure if I pulled it off, though… And it's not purely fun and games; this one is set immediately after 2.10 "Bonfire of the Vanity" because Chuck and Blair definitely deserved some one-on-one time in that episode. I cannot sanely believe that a) Blair did not invite Chuck to her party or b) that Chuck forgot to go and Blair wouldn't say anything. I mean, I know that at this point in time they're "waiting" or whatever, but…whatever! It's their anniversary basically! And after her seventeenth birthday party, Blair's eighteenth birthday party was a bit of a let down. Even with Cyndi Lauper. Blair deserved some Chuck time. Don't give me that look—you know what I'm talking about. And I know the timeline is messed up. In the episode, Blair has her party the same night that Bart reads the story about Chuck, and then the next morning is when Bart and Chuck talk. For my purposes, let's pretend the scene with Bart and Chuck happened at the same time as Blair's party. In fact, I like to just take that as fact and ignore the sunlight on Chuck's lovely pale cheek in that scene on the show and just think about how awfully bright the street lights are next to the Palace Hotel. :) Let me know what you think! Review!

Bonfire of Her Sanity

Chuck entered his bedroom and shut the door softly behind him, for once feeling a strange sense of peace. His stomach felt light, his body relaxed, his heart close to bursting.

You'd feel the same, too, if you found out you'd been wrong all these years, and that your father didn't blame you for killing his beloved wife in childbirth.

It was a weight off his shoulders.

Bart didn't hate him. It was a strange thing to think. His father's disapproval, indifference, and subtle loathing had been something Chuck had taken for granted for years. He'd always assumed that everything had stemmed from the circumstances of his birth. To find out he was wrong was a bit of a shocker, even for Chuck Bass…or, perhaps especially for Chuck Bass.

Chuck wasn't one who was used to being wrong about things. He liked to think he knew everything. Being wrong was unsettling. But this time he was glad his suspicions had been proved wrong. His father did love him; he'd just been unsure how to be close to his son.

Chuck wasn't sure how he felt about Humphrey being the one to cause his father's epiphany. After all, that little Brooklyn upstart had used his life as the set up for a story, and then gone a step further and investigated his father as a venture into journalism. But as much as Chuck hated to admit it, Dan had actually done the right thing and helped him. Maybe it had been the "please" that had done it—or maybe it was the fact that Chuck's "it will ruin our family" included Serena in the equation, the golden princess that Cabbage Patch's judgmental Brooklyn heart still pined over. But whatever the reason, Chuck was glad Dan hadn't published the story. And had given his father a copy of the one about "Charlie Trout." Despite its atrocious style and thinly veiled characters, it had been true in everything else it depicted. And Chuck had learned that his birth wasn't the cause of his father's aloofness. It was because he looked like his mother.

And though Bart had been awkward and his apology completely unexpected, and though he had needed Dan Humphrey of all people to point him in the right direction, Chuck didn't care. He'd grasped his father's newly offered affection with both hands. And he wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon.

Chuck leaned over his bed and started gathering the textbooks he'd been reading and the homework he'd started earlier that evening. After his talk with Bart they'd gone out to dinner and had a drink—some genuine father-and-son bonding time. Something he'd craved for years.

Just as Chuck picked up his calculus textbook, the door to his bedroom burst open and he straightened up at the sight of Blair standing in his doorway, her hands on her hips. She looked like she'd just come from a party or society gala. Her hair was pulled back and piled up on the crown of her head, leaving her neck naked. Its bareness was merely accentuated by the deep V of her ruffled satin blouse. She was dressed to the nines with a short black skirt and killer heels, both of which highlighted her long, shapely legs.

She turned, closing the door behind her a little roughly and Chuck couldn't stop his lips from parting at the sight of her bare back. Her ruffled blouse innocently covered most of her front and daringly circled only her neck and waist, leaving the rest of her exposed. Her golden skin seemed to call his name from across the room.

What had he done to deserve this?

But when she turned back around, the look on her face belied her appearance.

"Thanks for not coming to my party," she snarled.

Fuck.

Chuck swallowed. He stared at her.

"That was tonight?" he asked weakly, sitting down on his bed.

Her nostrils flared and she pursed her lips, starting towards him. "Didn't you read the invitation?"

"Blair, I—"

"At least next time you can not bother showing up with just cause," she cried. "Because you won't be invited!"

"Blair—" he tried again.

"No." She held up a hand. "Don't. Just don't." She took a breath and he could tell how hard this was for her. How his absence had hurt her, even though she'd like to pretend otherwise. "I'm eighteen," she continued. "I'm grown up. This year was supposed to be perfect. But even with Cyndi Lauper there—I just—it wasn't…" She shook her head, as if unable to explain what had been missing. Or as if she knew deep down that his absence had affected her more than she'd thought. "I didn't even come here tonight for you. I came to talk to Serena, who bailed on my party early—only to find her occupied in her room with my mom's new boyfriend's ugly artist son."

Serena's new boytoy? Aaron Rose? Fuck, why did it seem like almost everyone they knew was related? And Blair had walked in on them making out hot and heavy in Serena's room? Chuck couldn't stop a smirk. His eyes met hers and Blair relaxed, the ghost of a smile teasing her lips too.

"I'm sorry about your party," he said gently.

That wiped the smile off Blair's face. She scowled.

"I honestly forgot about it—"

"Glad to know I mean so much to you," she growled, spinning on her heel and heading for the door.

Chuck sprang from the bed and caught her arm as she grasped the door handle.

"I didn't mean it like that," he insisted. "I don't—I mean, you do—" He stopped in frustration. "I was a little preoccupied," he said after a moment.

"With what?" she shot back.

"Making sure Dan Humphrey didn't ruin my father," he snapped.

She stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

Chuck pursed his lips and shrugged. "New York Magazine wanted him to write a story about Bart. I got him to see reason, though, and…" he trailed off, not meeting her gaze. He took a breath and couldn't help but smile. "My dad and I went out for dinner. And drinks."

He raised his eyes to hers and what he encountered made the light feeling return to his stomach—only this time it fluttered, a familiar sensation when he was around Blair. She was looking at him, incredulous understanding in her dark eyes. He could elaborate, but he knew he didn't need to. She understood. She knew that having dinner with his father was more than just having dinner. She knew what it meant, even if neither of them said it out loud.

Chuck slid his hand from her forearm, which he hadn't released, down to her hand, until his fingers curled around hers. He led her to the bed and pulled out a box from the drawer of the bedside table. He handed it to her.

"Your party may have slipped my mind," he said softly as they sat down, "but I'm not completely forgetful."

Blair held the slim rectangular box in her hands, staring at it. He'd gotten her a present. Even though he hadn't show up to her party. Obviously he'd been meaning to go. She supposed that was comforting.

"Open it," he encouraged.

She did. And then gazed at the box's contents, swallowing hard. Inside laid a pair of vintage hair combs, delicate and hand painted. But what made her lips part in wonder was the fact that each comb was topped by a small, beautiful butterfly. Green and brown, the soft earth colors of the wings accentuated the bright emeralds in the center of each body. They were tasteful, delicate, expensive. Beautiful.

Still staring at her present, she whispered, "Help me wear them?"

Chuck took one comb and gently slid it into the hair above her ear. Then, taking the other one, he reached out and turned her face toward him in order to place the other comb on the other, far side of her head. He held her chin in one hand and with the other tucked a loose curl behind her ear. She was staring into her lap, relishing the feel of his hands on her.

"They suit you," he commented.

"I seem to have a strange affinity to butterflies," she said softly. She could feel him grow still next to her. She smiled and turned her face away slightly, knowing the motion would call attention to the curve of her bare throat. "I'm rather partial to them, actually."

"Are you?" he whispered, his mouth against her ear. Chuck pressed his lips against her temple, then lower, next to her ear, then lower still, on her jaw. Blair swallowed and felt her heart start to race, and her eyes fluttered close. His trail of soft butterfly kisses led to the corner of her mouth. "Are you?" he asked again.

"Yes," she breathed, turning her face the required millimeter to meet his lips with hers.

Their mouths met, gently, softly. The last time they'd kissed had been in her bedroom, when they'd decided to wait. But neither could stop now. They needed each other.

She met his lips eagerly and scooted closer on the bed. He wrapped an arm around her waist and tilted his head to deepen the kiss, earning a shuddering moan in response. Their lips crashed into each other, harder, hungry for more. When her mouth opened under his and her hands sunk into his hair, Chuck let out a groan, leaning into her until they both fell back against the bed, tongues entangled, bodies pressed together. This was heaven, everything they'd wanted; even though they both knew they were breaking the rules, they couldn't stop. Not when it felt so good. She let out an involuntary gasp when his hand cupped her breast through her blouse, arching her back to fill his hand; she craved his touch and felt herself go damp as his hand squeezed her.

Chuck ran his lips down her neck and sucked on her throat, one hand sliding up her skirt at the same time. She clutched at his shoulders in protest when he lifted himself up, but he stopped her complaining moan with a hard kiss before he sunk down on his knees in front of the edge of the bed and slid her hips towards him. He shoved her skirt up and then, his burning gaze never leaving hers, slid her panties down her long, tan legs, and tossed them aside. She was bared to him. Blair struggled up onto her elbows when he parted her legs, but any protest she might have made was silenced with a glance from his dark, burning eyes.

He bent down and brushed his lips against her knee, his hands gripping her thighs, thumbs running in slow circles on her skin. Gulping, Blair lay back down on the bed, her breathing accelerating every second as his lips slowly made their way closer and closer along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs to her center. She could feel his hot breath on her, an inch away, and couldn't stop her hips from moving forward in anticipation. His hands stopped her, held her firmly in place. Just when she thought he would never get to it, his tongue brushed her folds. She let out a gasp, and then he buried his face between her legs, his mouth sucking, tongue lapping, lips moving, giving endless pleasure. Her hands fisted in the bed sheets and she parted her legs wider to give him more room.

"Chuck!" she gasped, when he sucked her clit into his mouth. "Oh!"

He grabbed her legs and shoved them over his shoulders, giving himself a better angle. His hands slipped under her ass and brought her closer. Her hips bucked for more as his mouth devoured her throbbing center, drinking her hot, wet juices.

He made love to her with his mouth and didn't expect anything in return. This was an apology and a birthday present of sorts—of a variety that only Chuck Bass could deliver with his hot, talented tongue.

She squirmed closer and he could feel her tightening around his tongue as he mimicked the action that his cock usually performed. Her heels dug into his back but he barely noticed, he was so caught up in giving her pleasure. Just before she peaked, he shifted and jammed three fingers into her drenched pussy, drawing her clit back into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. Blair arched up off the bed and buried her fingers in his hair, gripping his head in place as she let out a gut-wrenching, incredibly satisfied cry.

He gently brought her legs down from his shoulders and pulled back. She panted on the bed, her eyes closed, cheeks flushed, an open, naked look of completion on her face. Lifting her legs, Chuck turned her so that she lay completely on the bed before joining her there. He drew her against him until her head rested on his chest.

"Happy birthday, Blair," he said softly, brushing his lips against her temple.

She sighed and relaxed in his arms.

Fin.

A/N: A basic idea of the hair combs Chuck gets Blair, not completely what I imagined, but close enough (just take out the spaces):

http:// www. Byrddesigns .com/ jpgs/ combs/ 914. jpg

http:// www. Byrddesigns .com/ jewelry. php? mod=det&KT_ back=1&sct=9 &pageNum_rsD etail=3