AN: On November 7th, 2007, a little episode called Victor, Victrola aired on the CW and the fandom hasn't been the same since. It's been an exhaustive, joyful, irritating, insulting, tearful, exhilarating ride for each and every one of our fellow CB lovers. Some of us have jumped ship, tired with the path the show has taken, tired of the ugly sides of the fandom from all around, and some have just become disenchanted with the character(s) or pair as a whole. For those of you that are still holding on, these past five years have been a hell of a ride. Happy Limoversary, friends. We hope you enjoy this gift.
Rated M, as usual, for sex, language, and gratuitous fluff and limo love. Enjoy.
It had been about a week and a half since Blair and Chuck had seen each other.
Lately, they were accustomed to being with each other around the clock, but Blair's trip to California with Serena had interfered with that. Although the two weeks he took off to come see her (a few days in which they didn't leave the hotel suite, unless it was to go to their newly acquired yacht) were wonderful, they ended all too soon and were peppered through with his business dealings. After all, Chuck was a very busy man and could only afford a few days of vacation here and there.
When they'd said goodbye, Blair could rest easy knowing that she'd be coming home to see him again in about a week, and as her trip with Serena came to an end, her eagerness to see him only multiplied. She couldn't help but show her excitement as she packed her bags (she'd left New York with three bags and was coming back with four, perks of having access to Chuck's bank account). The trip took around seven hours, hours which seemed to inch by slowly for Blair. She just wanted to be home with Chuck. Was that too much to ask?
Thump-thump-thump-thump. Chuck's foot tapped impatiently as he bounced his leg up and down against the bottom of his limo, and his slanted eyes were fixed unflinchingly on the plane that had just landed. Patience was not a virtue he held, and especially not when his time with Blair had been so sporadic as of late. The weeks he'd spent in L.A. while she'd been off gallivanting with Serena hadn't been enough to quench his thirst for her. It wasn't just about the sex - although, that, too, was in dire need of being tended to - it was about her. He had loved being able to lazily dote on her in the warm California sun and watch her just… be, that powerful, confident, happy person that she was meant to be.
When in the distance, there was a familiar head of mahogany curls bobbing down the steps of the jet, he sat up straighter in his seat. He smirked as he watched her - he loved the subtle sway of her hips and her legs peeking out from under the skirt of her dress. Now that he could see her, he didn't mind the time it was taking her to walk to the limo - he would take the chance to stare freely at her anytime.
It took her all of twenty steps to reach the limo and climb in - couture, curls, curves, and all - next to Chuck with a soft click of the door.
"Blair." He murmured her name in the way that only he could - no one said it the way he did, just like only she could say his name in a way that really burned his ears. He reached down and hooked his hand around her knees, swinging her calves up so they rested across his lap - a selfish move, to be sure, as it left him free to explore her silky, newly tanned legs the way he wanted.
"Chuck," she responded in greeting, the air about them all too casual yet full of tension.
"I trust you enjoyed the hours," and hours, and hours, "you spent on the Bass Jet?" Perks of being well-connected with the CEO of a billion dollar company.
She waited for a moment before answering, trying to keep her composure as his fingers danced across her exposed legs that were now settled in his lap, pressed up against...was he really already hard for her?
"No," she responded, "It was torture. Sitting for seven hours waiting to return to you is never enjoyable, but I'm sure you know that already." Her gaze burned into his. It was like...he was waiting for something.
A moment later the trunk was slammed closed, and the sound of the engine revving brought the limo to life.
As soon as the limo started moving Chuck seemed spurred into action. He got that glint in his eyes. That glint that said: I'm gonna fuck you, right now, and you're going to enjoy it. Immensely.
A smirk unfurled across his mouth instantly. Why was he not surprised? "I'm sorry to hear that." He wasn't sorry at all. "All those hours… wasted… when they could have been spent doing something else." He circled her knee with sure fingers. Chuck sighed heavily and shook his head. "It seems we're stuck with a dilemma," he informed her gravely, "You see, I was planning to spend the better part of the day ravishing you," he spoke in a hushed voice, eyes dark, "But now I'm not sure I'll have the time…."
The scent of her was making it hard to concentrate; all he wanted to do was lose himself in its drugging effect.
"Although," he spoke as if he was struck suddenly with inspiration, and his hand disappeared completely beneath her skirt, wedging itself between her thighs, "Multi-tasking is a skill." And what better way to multi-task could there be than for him to take her while driving home?
Blair swallowed, and opened her mouth to respond, "Chuck, I-" have to tell you something, but it was cut off when his hand disappeared beneath her skirt and his fingers pressed against her La Perla-covered center, and she inhaled a sharp breath.
He kissed her then, his best, most firm kiss. There was something about defiling her in the back of the limo that always got him going faster and with more excitement than anywhere else. Granted, taking Blair anywhere would have him stiffening in a moment, but the limo…. He owed this limo a lot. It was the reason she was here now, he was sure of it. Without that fateful night… he didn't like to think about what Archibald, Grimaldi, or English Lord she would have wound up on the arm of.
It had been about a week and a half since she'd had his fingers to pleasure her. A week and a half. She was sure that fell under cruel and unusual.
She needed to tell him something. She needed to, right now, but...his hand, and the limo...Blair's legs fell open to allow more access, the farthest one from Chuck slipping off his lap and falling so her foot was braced against the carpeted limo floor.
And his lips. His lips were so soft and sensual and perfect...Blair gripped his upper arm and shoulder tightly as she leaned into the kiss, pushing her tongue past his lips in an attempt to get more. She just hoped Arthur was aware of what was happening so he knew to circle the Empire block a few...hundred times.
After all...it had been a week and a half!
Chuck wondered when would she stop acting as if she were surprised that his libido spiked at unreasonable frequencies when she was near. He vaguely had the thought as his fingers stroked the soft cloth of what he knew were her very favorite La Perlas (her favorite, and his - he did so enjoy ripping the expensive brand off her).
"I missed you." The words were growled against her lips as he pressed a secession of quick kisses to hers. He'd missed kissing her, touching her, waking up with her, showering with her, spoiling her with trinkets and watching her face light up with glee.
Blair couldn't help but smile against his lips when he said he missed her. She missed him...so much. More than he could possibly know.
"I missed you too," she whispered back, gently nipping at his lips as their previously heated kiss turned more sensual and slow. But the tender moment was gone as soon as it had come, and Chuck's lecherous side was back.
"Are you going to let me show you how much?"
"If I said no," she husked, "Would you even take that as an answer?"
His devil side was showing when he grinned.
"Never."
A fair answer, seeing as how she would never say no to him.
Chuck kissed her again, in a burning, heated way, and when it was broken he went for her neck, intently marking the porcelain skin. A reminder for the both of them of this pending reunion.
He wanted her naked, and he wanted it hours ago. Impatient, his hands abandoned her La Perlas and went for the zipper on the back of her dress, because getting her naked would be far more problematic with the miles and miles of fabric on her body as opposed to the thin scrap of lace that she called underwear. He found the thin piece of metal, warmed by her back, and pulled down hard, enjoying how it gave way so easily. He kissed her shoulder instantly as the dress fell away from her, and his eyes greedily fell to the tops of her breasts. Normally creamy, they were more toasted in color thanks to her time in the sun (she must have managed to get some without him constantly covering her body with his), and they just looked so… soft and…. He reached and cupped one through her bra, squeezing it lightly and enjoying the weight against his palm. This was her body - her perfect, curvy body, and he'd missed it.
He shrugged his shoulders, suddenly desperate to start shedding his clothes - blazer, shirt, tie, all needed to be gone.
And on went their never-ending tango.
Blair's head tipped back when his lips went for her neck, and she practically melted beneath him.
When her arms were free she went for his shirt, pulling it open, uncaring as to whether the buttons popped off, as long as she got it off him. Why had he even bothered with clothes again?
With his shirt, tie, and suit jacket gone, Blair's slender fingers began tugging expertly at his belt and the front of his pants. Her path, however, was delayed when Chuck palmed her breast again, and she nearly died. A week and a half.
"Take them off," she ordered, motioning to his pants while she reached behind herself to unclasp her bra and toss it away. The few days of constant sex hadn't been enough to satisfy her need for him, and apparently, he felt the same way.
Swiftly, he unbuckled his belt with a faint clang of metal before yanking at his zipper. He faced only momentary distraction when her bra disappeared - God, he loved every part of this woman. She was beautiful, and he'd do his best to remind her of that every single day. His chest was heaving with his heavier breaths and he kissed her briefly, simply because he could, before he began to tug his pants down his body until the compressed erection sprang free with room to grow. He reached back under her skirt, then, and searched for the sole thing that would keep them from joining.
"I hate," he hissed, "your clothes." He loved her clothes - they were fine, elegant, and she sported them in quite the lovely, sexy ways. But he hated her clothes, because there were too many of them, too much of them, too often. "You're never wearing them again." Lies, because like Hell would he let anyone ogle her in all her glory. All they could get was teasing glimpses of her skin and the disappointment of knowing that she would disappear with him into a random coat closet, not them.
"You love my clothes," she snapped back at him, almost offended by his statement, but at the same time knowing he only said it because he was horny and she was still partially dressed. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes when he told her she'd never wear them again...how many times had she heard him say that? Countless. And he took it back every time when she countered him with the reality of the request.
Finally, he found the La Perlas under the great bunch of fabric that made up her dress, and he pulled. He wasn't careful at all, and if they became stretched, or a stitch popped, he wouldn't be sorry at all. He bent briefly as he slid the material down her smooth thighs, and pulled a nipple into his mouth, sucking with an earnest affection and downright hunger. His breath was hot and harsh when he moved briefly to the next, and then he was throwing the damned, tangled panties somewhere else in the limo and easing her back down onto the seat.
Whatever saucy, snarky remark that was going to slip past her lips was lost when his lips found her exposed nipples. She gasped, sucking in a huge gulp of air at the sudden heat and contact, her teeth gritting while he simultaneously pulled her La Perlas off of her.
He was a basstard when he smiled at her, settled snugly between her thighs but not yet inside of her. "Ready?" He asked her in that sandpaper voice of his. "Or do you need some more… persuasion?" The head of him brushed over her entrance and his jaw tightened, but he remained still, enjoying his game at both of their expenses.
When he settled between her legs and brushed the tip of him against her drenched slit she nearly just pushed against him and took him out of frustration, but she realized that wasn't how she should play it. He was being a basstard, so she'd be a bitch.
"No," she responded flatly, "I'm not ready, Chuck." It was almost sarcastic, but there was also a tinge of challenge behind her words, then an idea sparked inside of her, "I mean..." she swallowed, "This is my first time."
She looked at him expectantly...would he bite the line she threw out to him?
Her response stunned him, and he laughed once in his surprise. Liar! He could feel how soaked she was, and he could feel how easily she would give way to him if he were to thrust forward inside of her right this minute. He'd expected her to spit, and snarl, and fight, and insist that he take her now! Not say she wasn't ready and deny them both what they needed. The look he was giving her told her that he thought she couldn't possibly be serious, but at the same time he wouldn't let himself jerk forward and into her until he knew for sure.
That surprise, though, was nothing, nothing compared to what he felt when she finished her denial. Come again? His expression was blank, and he was actually struck dumb and at a complete loss for what to do, or say. He was also positive he nearly fell off the seat of the limo, but somehow he managed to keep his ground. Chuck blinked slowly, looking down at her, waiting for her to change her mind, or give him a clue - she had to elaborate and explain what-
Role play, he realized as the light bulb went off in his brain. It had been a prominent feature in their first try with a relationship, but somehow it hadn't made it back into the rotation. He supposed it might have something to do with the fact that, after facing so many ordeals and so much trauma because of them, the pair of them were perfectly content to have sex together as Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck. They'd always had fun, though - waiter and scorned diner, Vronsky and Anna Karenina, Catherine and Heathcliff, school tutor and a student that didn't need any tutoring at all with his… oral skills. If he'd known that re-enacting her first time was something she had been itching to do, he would have complied a lot sooner. It probably wasn't common for women to want to revisit losing their virginity, but then again, Blair's first time had been far from a nightmare if he did say so himself.
He chuckled momentarily and kissed her firmly. When it was broken, something had changed in him. "Do you trust me, Waldorf?" They were an echo of the words that he'd spoken to her that night in a limo that had been much darker, surrounding two inebriated teenagers that were setting more into motion than they could have imagined.
"I could never trust you. You're Chuck Bass," she whispered the words like they were a very dirty secret she was letting him in on. "You didn't guard my drink, you drank it," she hissed, fingers tracing his features.
His lips, flushed with a deeper color from his arousal, quirked upwards when she whispered her answer to him. "I'm not sorry," he murmured - he wasn't then, and he wasn't now, "Do you blame me? I could still taste your mouth on the rim of the glass." He brushed his nose against hers as she touched the hard lines of his face. "Sweet. Delicious."
"...Just like my virginity. You want it, don't you? You want to be the first one as badly as I need you."
He growled low in his throat, and it took every semblance of restraint that he had not to thrust into her right there with the way she was teasing him. He felt the throbbing, pounding sensation of the blood flooding his erection increase in a surge of responsiveness. "Yes," he said bluntly, "I do. Do you know how wasted it's been?" His voice was hushed. "How wasted you've been? Untouched? When you could have been experiencing orgasms that made your body break?
"Do you trust me to make it good for you?" He peered up at her with the same eyes that he had that first night, with the same question. He'd needed her trust then, and he needed it still, and if there was one thing that anyone had ever been able to trust him with, it was that Chuck Bass knew what he was doing between the sheets and on the seats.
Blair returned the kiss, but it was slightly hesitant and she stared up at him with wide, innocent brown eyes.
A moment later she swallowed, gently rubbing her womanhood against the tip of him that was still poised at her entrance, "You'll make it good," she affirmed, "Because if you don't, you know you'll have hell to pay." She smirked up at him, but still didn't give him the green light.
"I want to be the first one to be inside of you. I want to feel this," he thrust against her, the tip of him stopping just short of entering her, "stretch around me." He grimaced in need when she teased him with her wetness and he swallowed hard, her warning only barely registering with him. When she refused to tell him to go, he felt his eyes burning into her - he could only take it so much longer. "Quit being a tease, Blair," his voice was tight, "C'mon." He rubbed himself up against her again, up and down, down and up, and there was a tic in his jaw. "Are you afraid?" He asked her lightly. "Are you afraid that you won't be able to take all of me in this tight little-" He choked back a groan, because fuck he wanted her now! "Or maybe you've changed your mind." He managed to get the words out as he lifted himself away from her.
Blair shook her head, "No..." her hands fell from his face to his shoulders, nails biting into him in warning when he began to pull away, "I'm not afraid. I'm Blair Waldorf...I'm not afraid of anything," except losing you.
"Just..." she inhaled sharply, she could tell that his patience was wearing thin, that his need for her was making him burst at the seams and if she didn't let him fuck her soon then she'd be punished later (and that wasn't even necessarily a bad thing). "Just do it, now."
She had hardly even said the words before he was thrusting forward, hard, unforgivingly, because hot as it had been how dare she make them wait so long! There was a hard sound that came somewhere from the middle of his chest, and his teeth were smashed together as he panted heavily and pressed his lips together.
"Jesus, Blair-!" She was squeezing him fucking perfectly, and he withdrew from her heated, wet depths, sliding forward a bit sooner and more jerkily than he'd intended when the limo hit a speed bump. It wasn't unpleasant, though, and he groaned before kissing her in a solid, needy way.
"Chuck!" she cried out when he filled her to the hilt. There was no more patience for role playing between them. They needed release, they needed each other, they needed the closeness that had been absent for a week and a half.
Her hands gripped his shoulders mercilessly as her back arched and her hips bucked against his. He was..."So big," her eyes rolled up and fluttered shut when the limo went over another bump, and he somehow filled her even more, and pressed up against that spot...she moaned against his mouth as he kissed her and she just tried to pull him closer, needed him, all of him.
His fingertips were white with the force that he was using to grip the seat, and he pulled back again before slamming back and circling his hips against and inside of her. He could tell by how tense she was that he was hitting exactly the right spot, if he could just… keep….
He bit down, rougher than usual but not cruelly, on her lip and sucked it into his mouth like the gluttonous motherchucker he was. Short, erratic thrusts that were uneven in their depth were all he could give her; with the delay she'd instigated, the delay from their week and a half of separation, and his general awe of her, he couldn't control it to be any better. But he felt her and how wet she was, how tight, and dare he say it that she felt even more responsive to him today? She'd missed him just as much, he surmised. Faster, a part of him urged. Faster, deeper, give it to her good, the kind of good she'd expect after a nearly two week absence. He could feel his whole body quivering from trying to hold back… she had to come first. She always had to come first, and he needed her to come now, and he punctuated his thought with a rough thrust
Within moments Blair was coming, hard. Her mouth tipped open and she shouted his name, her walls constricting around his length as a rush of wetness spilled out around him. It had been too long since the last time they had sex and Blair was especially sensitive. Her back was sticky with sweat against the leather seats, a familiar feeling as she arched away from it and towards Chuck.
A strangled, odd sound left his lips, and his eyes watered as he fought to keep them open to watch her. She was coming, and she was so tight he could hardly move. "Fuck… fuck, Blair!" He stopped fighting; he spent himself inside of her with heavy ropes of his seed, and he thrust firmly to ensure that it wound up deep inside of her. Every muscle in his body burned and he fell against her, the skin of his chest pressed into hers and his face buried in the crook of her neck.
"Oh my god," she breathed against his lips, body slowly becoming lax as she came down from from the climax, body slightly shaking with aftershocks.
"You," he panted with great concentration on the words, "are never… ever… leaving for that long again." He meant it. "And when I need to leave for a trip, you're coming with me." Irrational, but it wasn't a problem. There was no rule against partners coming on trips, especially not when you were the head of the company.
He took a moment before he trailed his hand down her arm, all the way to her own hand, and he grabbed it. He lifted his head and then brought her fingers to his mouth where he kissed the Harry Winston ring that had been settled on her finger for a little over a year now, as well as the wedding band that accompanied it that had been home there for just under said year. He was positive she would start to get uncomfortable with him on her like this, even with him doing his best to keep the majority of his weight off her, but…. Frankly, he couldn't be bothered to adjust his proximity to her.
Blair laughed, "You keep saying that, but we always end up getting separated anyways..." she smiled affectionately when he lifted her hand and kissed her rings (his favorite place other than her lips), "Besides, I kind of like our...reunions."
"Well not anymore," he countered her, stubborn and annoyed, "I mean it." Gratifying reunions or not, he finished silently, kissing her rings once more before moving onto her other knuckles.
The look on her face changed however, and in the next moment, she was slightly urging him to sit up, "Chuck, I wanted to tell you something...before you practically attacked me," she smirked, lifting her hand to gently caress his cheek, "Not that I mind, but..." she inhaled a deep breath. She could do this.
He sighed as she nudged him, and he shifted his body so he could sit up and give her room to do the same. "Mmm?" he acknowledged her vaguely, nuzzling the inside of her wrist and placing a soft kiss along the veins that he could see through her lightly browned skin as she touched his cheek.
She stared at him for a few moments, allowing the suspense to sink in. Blair was hardly ever hesitant when talking to her husband, so it always meant there was something...big, important, or uncomfortable on her mind. She removed her hand from his cheek a moment later, and grabbed his hand that had his matching wedding band on it, her fingers gently ghosting across the warm metal, eyes looking straight into his.
"Blair?" He asked, voice deeper and more serious. "What is it?" Had something happened in their week and a half separation? His stomach twisted with the idea of a job offer, one so unmissable that she was actually considering moving 3,000 miles - while royalty and good breeding was more her thing, he knew she'd jump at the chance to partake in any film offer.
"I'm pregnant."
He'd been so wrapped up in his worries, though, that the two words she did utter went right over his head. Nearly. His lips parted in silent wonder, and he hardly blinked, eyes searching her face for any indication that he'd heard wrong. "What?" He finally managed to get the single syllable out, his throat dry and raspy.
A soft puff of laughter left Blair's lips at Chuck's stunned, one-syllable response. She lifted her hands to cup the sides of his face, making sure he heard her clearly and concisely this time.
"I'm pregnant," she repeated, a grin spread widely over her features (one that made her dimples show).
His mouth opened in response, but no sound came out. All he could do was grip her wrists and have his lips flap uselessly for a moment.
"Are you sure?" He asked eventually. "Last time….." After what happened last time, he needed her to be sure, for the both of them. They'd only made the decision for sure… three and a half weeks ago or so. When he'd first gotten to L.A. "Are you sure?" He asked again, voice quieter and leaking with a new emotion.
Blair smiled and nodded, "I'm sure." She'd taken extra steps be sure after the false alarm last time. She didn't want that to happen again, "After I took the test I went to a doctor just to double check." She grinned, "I'm pregnant, Chuck, we're...we're gonna have a baby."
She could hardly contain her excitement, this is what they'd been waiting for...she just didn't think it would happen so fast. The whole plane ride she'd been practically bursting at the seams, waiting to tell him the good news. Holding onto it until she saw him in person was probably one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She knew he wanted a baby, he'd made that especially clear and finally...they were going to have a baby together.
Chuck didn't say anything. He couldn't say anything. He was 100% positive that anything he could have said would have been lost in a decidedly non-masculine show of emotion, and he didn't think he could put up with the loss of his masculinity right then. Not when his emotions were already worn so thin. His wife… his wife was pregnant. She was pregnant, and she was sure. A doctor had told her that she was pregnant, that they were….
His fingers wove through her hair and he brought her closer and he pressed a kiss to her brow that was still damp with sweat from the heat of their reunion. He kissed her again on her temple, and cheek, and neck, and the path continued down until he was bent in half and he was pressing kisses to her still perfectly smooth, taut stomach. He swallowed convulsively, still unable to say anything. His chest felt tight with emotion, like his heart was too big to fit into its designated space anymore. He swallowed again, and then he let out a low gasp. He was getting his family - Blair Cornelia Waldorf Bass was giving him a family. A family he hadn't thought to want until only recently, but that he now wanted more than… everything. "Thank you." He finally spoke up, and the words were thick with emotion, and his eyes were squeezed shut as he pressed his lips to her stomach again.
He was getting all the best of him, and all the best of her, bottled and distilled into one pint-sized container that was currently inside of her. Inside of her…. "I didn't hurt you?" He asked suddenly, sitting up remarkably fast and looking at her with wild eyes. "I didn't… when we were… when I…" His hand splayed across her stomach protectively and apologetically.
His reaction was everything a more that she hoped for. He was stunned, full of so emotion he was at a loss for words. She could see his mind still trying to comprehend the fact that, she was finally pregnant with their baby, and he or she would be pure perfection.
Blair felt her chest tighten with emotion when he peppered her with kisses, all the way down to her flat stomach that would be growing every day from now on. She smiled, but felt her eyes stinging.
Damn it Chuck, stop it.
She swiped at her eyes, and let out a shaky laugh, "No," she stated, as if his question were the most ridiculous thing ever, "No of course not," she paused a beat, "we're fine...perfect even." Blair placed her hand over his, over her stomach, over the place where their child would grow.
If he had known… if she had managed to get the words out before his savage attack… he wouldn't have been nearly as rough, and brutish as he was with her. He laughed breathlessly and shook his head in wonder. "I…" He didn't know what he'd been about to say - it just left his mind with a blink of the eye, so he settled on the words that would always be true. "I love you. I love you so much, I…"
Blair leaned in the extra few inches of space between them and kissed Chuck soundly, "I know," she spoke soothingly, "I love you too." She was feeling so many different emotions: love, lust, adoration, excitement...she could barely contain them all. He seemed...she'd never seen him so excited and so happy since their wedding day.
He pressed his forehead to hers. "When will you stop giving me more than I deserve from you?" He asked her quietly, earnestly. Ever since they were teenagers, she'd given him more love, more time, more attention and effort than anyone ever had, and half the time he didn't even treat her right or nearly as well as he should have in return.
"Maybe when you stop being worth everything and more to me," she paused for a moment, as if she was thinking, "which will be never, so get used to it Mr. Bass."
He smiled faintly, thumb stroking lightly over her stomach. "You realize now I'm never going to let you out of my sight for trips, right?" It wasn't just his wife to be concerned with, it was his child now, too. Their child. A perfect mini-Blair, or a tiny version of himself.
Blair grinned at his words, "Like I'd want to leave your side anyways."
He leaned in and kissed her tenderly, then, a worshiping kiss that somehow still didn't capture how he felt about her. "The best moments of my life," he started quietly, "have been right here in this limo with you."
His kiss, and the words to leave his mouth, hit home for Blair. He was right. This was where they first had sex. Where they first discovered how explosive they were together. They'd had countless rides in the limo, some good, some bad. Ones where they were kissing and touching, and others in which they were bickering or simply ignoring each other. But every moment counted. Every moment in the limo was significant because it was the birthing place of their relationship, and as they grew, their fondness for the limo grew, and she knew that Chuck would never replace it.
Other things...other things they could get away with upgrading and changing, but never the limo. It was a piece of them; where the seams popped in the leather, the little stains on the carpet, the door handle that was slightly bent...it was all them. And now they were going to have a child, who would probably leave some memories of their own. Children were messy, and she couldn't wait until the leather seats were sticky with spilled grape juice and there were crayon markings on the ceiling.
Blair gently pulled his hand away from her stomach, keeping eye contact and a soft smile, "How about we make another memory, then?" she smirked, before pushing him back down onto the seat and climbing on top of him.
For the past two decades, Arthur had been the driver of the Bass Limo. The limo was the finest model in the year of its purchase. It was classic in the sense that its main features were the sleek leather seats and the dimly lit bar. The limo rode smooth, never lurched or broke down, or screeched when unhappy. In all the years Arthur drove the limo, never once did it fail on him. The blinker and windshield wipers were always on the same rhythm. On the coldest days the limo kept everyone warm, while on the hot days it was an oasis from the heat. There were, of course, minor flaws. The automatic window buttons needed to be punched a few times before they rolled up, the rear view mirror was loose and needed adjusting every now and then, and the leather on the partition was worn from being raised and lowered so many times.
They were flaws, yes, but he knew these flaws and how to work around them. He knew this vehicle, and it had seen as much as he had of the man and woman in the backseat.
It was the eleventh time for this single trip that Arthur had driven past the fountain at Columbus Circle, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He was purposefully avoiding continuing down the avenue that would take the young couple in the back of the limo home to the Empire Hotel. He'd come to know this routine well over the past few years - Mrs. Bass got in, the partition went up, and he hummed to himself to ignore whatever sounds or exclamations came from the backseat until Mr. Bass lowered the partition and instructed him to take them home.
Never in his approximately seventeen years of service would he have ever expected this for the young man and woman. Chuck Bass had always been insolent - he'd been saying his name like it meant something since he was a very small child, and he'd always thrown around what little weight he had even then. Chuck had been about five or six when Mr. Bass Senior hired him to drive his son to school and wherever else he needed, and his sense of entitlement and self-importance had only grown. Once he'd reached the teenage years, he'd been unbearable - a different girl nearly every afternoon in the back of the limo, liquor, marijuana, and probably many other drugs of an illicit nature, too.
But then a doe-eyed girl with curly brunette hair donning a silk slip and a string of pearls had glided from a seedy burlesque club into the back of the limo on a dark, late night. She'd been there before, along with two blondes, and Arthur had had no reason to believe that he needed to raise the partition, which was why he found it strange when, after a time, Mr. Bass did it himself.
The whispers came, then; low, soothing ones that promised pleasure and safety and trust, and more feminine, affirmative ones that she was sure. Exclamations grew louder and louder, and at the end of the night when the teenager hurried through the evening air to her penthouse building and Mr. Bass insisted they stay and wait until she was inside... Arthur knew.
He was there for many of their secret rendezvous'. He was there when the young man asked to be taken to the airport and didn't come back for over a month.
He'd been there when the floozies stopped being appealing, and when she said three words, eight letters, I love you.
He'd been there for the cold rejection and the self-loathing self-destruction directly after, and when finally four words, eleven letters were returned.
I love you, too.
He'd seen the rise, and the fall, and the rise again of the most powerful pair in all of Manhattan - only twenty-two and they had such a powerful city bowing at their feet. If there was such a thing as modern royalty, they were it, Camelot be damned.
They were spoiled, obscenely wealthy, and selfish.
But they were selfless with each other and would give up their whole fortunes combined to be together. He'd seen it, far more often than he'd seen any action that destroyed them both with a contradiction to that belief.
(No matter how often snide ragamuffins liked to bring up hotels.)
He was there when Blair Bass, no longer a reckless teenager, told Chuck Bass, her husband who was more faithful than most in his position, that he was getting a family, and Arthur knew that in approximately six years he'd be chauffeuring a new little Bass in what had become the Bass Family Limo.
AN: There you have it! We hope you've enjoyed this one-shot/...extract? B and I actually wrote this with the Chuck and Blair that we built in Whenever, Wherever in mind, so for those of you familiar with the story... consider this a peek into what might be in store with them. This is, however, first and foremost, a limo-centric fic, which was why we didn't mention this at the beginning. We didn't want to detract from the overall picture of the story, which was to tell a story about Chuck, Blair, and the Bass Family Limo.
We hope you enjoyed, and we'd really love to hear your thoughts in a review. A word or two is fine and treasured, but we love ones that give constructive feedback. (Essentially, we're not fussy, and love all of you dearly and the horses you rode in on.)
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