Chuck entered the apartment and cursed the dinging of the elevator door, which would forever prevent him from a surprise entrance. She whirled around from the kitchen where she was leaning over the table adjusting something trivial. Her face brightened when she saw him.
He didn't know why she was torturing him like this, he cleared his throat and straightened his tie as she approached him. She was wearing the sexiest dress he had ever seen on her. It was short and it was black and it was leaving only the essential to the imagination.
She bobbed towards him in her kitten heels. She looked like a night of clubbing was in store, or that she was getting ready for bed. He would take the latter if the choice were his. She took his jacket and hung it up in the closet and turned to him, "How are you?"
The question seemed simple on the outset, but there were so many answers. He'd spent the entire day in his father's old office. Which was now his office. Besides the obvious sentimental side-effects he was worn out, he had a headache from all the paper-work he was meant to sign and Jack was battering him left and right about the job that should be his. He had just turned down a night out, admitting to Jack thus that he was prepared for the life he'd always avoided. When his father had placed this crossroads before him at the beginning of summer he had run in the opposite direction and had spent the time since then regretting it. This time he wasn't going to throw everything away.
Besides that, he was feeling light-headed, like he'd had too much real champagne (not the cheap stuff that his driver had the bad habit of stocking the limo with). But he hadn't. The sight of Blair like this drove him mad. Knowing that there were all kinds of lines in front of her, all kinds of red tape preventing him from touching her. Yet. Like many men before him he was spending every spare minute convincing himself of why it was best that they remained friends.
"Chuck?" Blair looked him up and down, and he realized he hadn't answered her question, he had just followed her around with his eyes.
"Blair, how can you do this to me?" he groaned humourously. She rolled her eyes and feigned innocence.
"I hope you're hungry." She started back towards the kitchen and leaned over the sink, when she turned he was flush with her and her arms automatically found their way to his shoulders. She smiled up at him.
"How was work?"
"Don't ask me about work," he smirked down at her, his hands pressed firmly around her waist, "ask me what I want to do to you."
She suppressed a giggle. "What do you want to do to me?" she obeyed.
He smirked and leaned his face down, "Well to start," he whispered, his lips meeting hers softly. She smiled and kissed him back for a moment.
"Hey," she said softly, hands on his chest, gently pushing him away, "I made food and you're going to eat it." She smiled and turned back to the table with a plate of food, none of which looked at all appetizing to Chuck.
"You made it?" he asked skeptically.
"No, I had it made," she corrected herself and looked down a little guiltily. He stepped behind her and touched her elbow and she turned, lips pursed.
"Well good, then you won't be offended if I don't want to eat it," he smirked as he looked back down at the plate. Blair looked at the table she had set. She was proud of that part at least, and she really had tried to go for neutral, bordering on romantic, but not overpowering. She hoped she wasn't scaring him away because he still hadn't come out and told her he wanted them to be together, even though she clearly did. She looked back at the boy. The last month had been rough but she was hanging on, she could still be whatever he needed until things were back to normal. Relationships were about give and take, right?