A/N Time for a new multi-chaptered fic, I've missed writing C/B.
This is loosely based on a prompt by GGirl-CB4BW posted a while back. The part of it that I'm using is; Blair comes across surveillance footage from the Bass household and gets to see a different side of Chuck.
I know that another version of this is being written by another author, BookCaseGirl, and they've both given me their blessing to write my own version of it.
The fic will be pre-series/AU season 1. For now, Serena's still at boarding school, Blair's with Nate and Chuck is....well, Chuck ;)
Rated T for now, but there might be M rated scenes later on.
Disclaimer; I own nothing. The title is borrowed from a Robbie Williams album.
For Noirreigne, both for being my beta, and for encouraging me to follow my muse.
"Hey, it's Nate. Leave me a message after the beep."
Barely able to choke back a cry of frustration Blair snapped her phone shut and slipped it back into her navy, Prada purse. That was the third time in a row that her call had gone straight to voicemail and she simply did not have time for this. Frowning, she glanced down at her slim, gold wrist-watch. As expected it only cemented her suspicion that the day's schedule was quickly being delayed beyond repair due to her boyfriend's inability to answer his phone.
"That'll be fourteen dollars, Ms." The cab-driver interrupted her misery as he pulled up outside the Palace.
Sparing a glance at the tall, majestic building Blair rummaged through her bag in search of her wallet, and handed the driver a twenty through the tiny window. "Keep the change," she sighed, and pushed the door open. Stepping out unto the busy sidewalk she was immediately swept in a heavy blanket of humidity. It was an unusually warm summer's day in New York, and she cursed the day's stupid event that had forced her to return from her breezy stay in the Hamptons more than a week before school was due to start. A barely there gust of wind played with the ruffle of her white blouse as she headed for the entrance but it did little to diminish the suffocating heat. A male concierge looked up when she passed by, offering her an appreciative smile that she deftly ignored. The air-conditioned atmosphere of the lobby had her relaxing a little and her shoulders losing some of their tension, but she was still far from relaxed as she made her way over to the elevators.
Once inside the elevator she tried Nate on his cell. Voicemail, again. This time as her frustration peaked; she couldn't keep an exasperated huff from escaping her lungs. Giving herself a scrutinizing once-over in the mirrored wall of the compartment, she quickly adjusted her floral-print headband and pulled a hand through her dark locks. When the bell chimed, signaling her arrival on the right floor, she was once again the picture of calm.
Standing outside 1812 she sucked in one last deep breath, and knocked on the door. Three short, raps against the wood later she exhaled while waiting for the door to be opened. When moments passed without any sign of life behind the door, she knocked again. Harder this time, using the heel of her hand. She'd be damned if she'd have grazed knuckles on top of everything else. By the time the door was finally opened she was seething, and her impatience only grew at the sight of Chuck dressed in nothing but silk pajamas and robe, and with his signature smirk firmly in place.
"Waldorf, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Chuck drawled lazily, gaze trailing her form in the non-subtle way she associated with her boyfriend's best friend.
"Spare me the smarminess, Bass." She snapped, brushing past him as she walked into the suite; expecting to find Nate asleep on the couch; hung-over and ready to apologize.
The couch was empty.
Confused, she looked around the room in search for him, listening closely to hear if the shower was running in the bathroom. Nothing. "Where's Nate?" She turned to Chuck who was still standing by the open door with a look of barely concealed amusement on his face. "He was supposed to go out with you last night, and now he's not answering his phone."
"Nathaniel didn't grace my humble abode with his presence last night," Chuck shrugged, closing the door and strolling over to the couch where he picked up a glass filled with something that looked like orange juice from the coffee table and took a drink.
"Wha-, why?"
Chuck raised an eyebrow in reaction to her ineloquence, an infuriating smile still playing on his lips. "Your precious boyfriend went sailing with the Captain," he told her, putting the glass back down with a look in the direction of the open laptop on the table, "He had to postpone our initial plans of debauchery for a later date."
Blair froze; her frustration melting into a lump of cold, hard disappointment that lodged itself in her chest. Chuck looked up from the screen at her lack of response. "Trouble in Paradise?"
"Not at all. I'm only surprised he hasn't called to let me know." She replied with forced casualness, "We had plans. And he was supposed to come to my mother's party with me tonight."
She could barely keep the distress she felt out of her voice. The dinner alone was cause for a huge amount of stress, and showing up without Nate would only bring about a hundred questions and an earful from her mother. Not to mention the fact that Nate hadn't called her even though he'd known they had plans; both for shopping and for the party. "His phone must have run out of battery."
"Right," Chuck drawled, sitting down on the couch, the tone of his voice letting her know exactly how unlikely he found her explanation.
With Chuck sitting with his back to her, she allowed herself a moment with her eyes closed, stuffing the raging disappointment away for later. A sound of amusement from Chuck seconds later brought her back to reality and she caught a sight of something playing in black and white on the screen of his lap top. "What are you watching?"
"I thought you said you were in a hurry," Chuck replied, reaching out to pause the video.
"Well, I'm not anymore, am I?" She retorted glumly, taking a seat next to him, but keeping her distance. There were white, paper CD cases and various disks spread out all over the coffee table. Curious in spite of her better judgment, she reached out for one of the cases. "What is all this?"
"Didn't they ever tell you what happened to the cat?" He replied, and she shot him a glare.
"Bass."
"Bart has had the surveillance footage edited and organized," Chuck explained, nodding in direction of the table, "I found these in his safe and figured I'd have a look."
"Stalking innocent hotel guests, that's unusually creepy even for you," Blair offered, absentmindedly playing with the paper case in her hands.
"There are certain areas of the place that I wouldn't mind an eye in," Chuck smirked, "the spa, for example."
"You're heinous," She huffed, sending him a disapproving look that he ignored;
"Sadly, I have yet to gain access to those particular archives." Chuck mused, leaning back and resting one arm atop the backrest of the couch. "This little project of my father's only covers the penthouse and my suite."
Blair startled. "He's got you monitored?" She blurted out, eyes scanning the room suspiciously. "Why?"
"He's Bart Bass. He hardly bothers with reasons." Chuck scoffed, pointing to the far end corner of the room, up by the ceiling. "Wave to the cameras, Waldorf."
Narrowing her eyes, Blair could make out the tiny lens of a security camera and immediately straightened in her seat; suddenly feeling self-conscious. "That's…Doesn't it creep you out?" She asked, turning her attention back to Chuck.
"Not much I can do about it, is there?" He shrugged, but there was a tension to his words that she didn't fail to notice. "There's another one over there," he said, nodding his head in direction of the small kitchen area.
Blair's eyes widened in disbelief. "But," she stammered, following the likeliest view of the other camera with her eyes and feeling a blush staining her cheeks. From what she knew about Chuck's father, the cameras really shouldn't come as that big a surprise, but someone having a surveillance camera in his own son's bedroom felt a little too….messed up. Especially when that son was Chuck Bass. Looking at it from Chuck's perspective, something she would normally avoid at all costs, she couldn't even imagine how he'd feel; knowing that his father had the possibility to watch his every move.
"I'm sure whatever film major from NYU he hired to edit the footage enjoyed himself immensely," Chuck smirked, "Not everyone can say they've gotten such insight into the arts of Chuck Bass."
"Except for half the women of New York," Blair pointed out dryly, and to her surprise found herself smiling alongside Chuck.
"Touché."
"But why are you watching it?" She wondered, leaning in for a closer look at the screen in front of them. It was divided into three squares; in the first two she could make out the couch she was currently sitting on, as well as the table, parts of the bar and the door of the suite.
"I figured I'd take the opportunity to re-live some of my finer moments," Chuck mused, and something in his voice had her attention shifting to the third square.
Slowly, her gaze fell to the lower square which she assumed was showing whatever the second camera had picked up. The paused video was in surprisingly good quality, even though it was obvious from the greenish nuances that the room had been dark at the time. It took her eyes a second to adjust, but once they did she could easily make out the shape and curve of a female in the middle of the bed; long hair flowing down the expanse of her back.
Reality dawned on her, and she whirled around to face Chuck. "Oh. My. God." She shrieked, smacking him hard on the shoulder, "I can't believe you're watching some seedy home video when I'm sitting right next to you!"
"Relax." He chuckled, getting to his feet. "Enjoy. You might learn a thing or two."
"Hardly." Blair snapped back, desperately trying to decide if looking at him, or down at the screen and the horror that was there, was worse.
"You're probably right," Chuck replied, pouring himself a fresh glass of juice from the decanter standing on a room service cart by the door.
She was about to reply when the sound of ringing interrupted them; the sound coming from Chuck's phone somewhere over by the bed. He sauntered over there, checking the caller ID unhurriedly before picking up. "Nathaniel, how's life on the high sea?"
A fresh spike of anger pierced through the heavy disappointment in Blair's chest. Scowling, she watched Chuck talking in a low tone with his back to her, laughing quietly at something her boyfriend had said. The thought irked her to no end. Why was Nate calling Chuck and not her? Letting out a frustrated sigh, she turned around to face the table in front of her instead. Nate was probably calling her next. He couldn't possibly have known that she'd be with Chuck. Thinking about it, she realized she probably hadn't been alone with him this long in years.
Dexterously keeping her eyes off the screen her gaze fell to the DVD's on the table. There was a ridiculous amount of discs scattered around. She nonchalantly reached out to rifle through the pile. Every one was labeled with two dates and she assumed they showed the start and finishing date. Most of them seemed fairly recent, so when she found one dated ten years back, she threw a brief glance over her shoulder to make sure Chuck wasn't looking, and then picked it up.
3.14.96 – 3.16.96
They'd been in Kindergarten then. What on Earth could Chuck possibly want with that one? She might even be on one of those, Blair realized, and her interest grew. There must be a whole lot of interesting stuff on them, and by that she wasn't referring to Chuck's disgusting sexual explorations. Probably more than enough to give her some insight into the mysterious life of 'Chuck Bass'. Stuff with him and Nate, for example, or other useful information. As long as she kept one eye closed and was prepared to press fast forward to avoid any unwanted visions, what harm could watching a few of them bring?
Thinking quickly, she threw a second cautious look over her shoulder. Chuck was still on the phone. Perfect. Blair hesitated for a second but then gave a mental shrug of her shoulders and not more than fifteen seconds later, a handful of DVD's were safely tucked away inside her Prada. Arranging the remaining discs in a seemingly undisturbed order, she was pleased to note that you couldn't even tell some of them were missing. Barely able to keep from grinning, she tossed her hair over her shoulder just as Chuck came walking back into view; snapping his phone shut with a final, "Later".
"He won't be back today," She said matter-of-factly, her good mood rapidly evaporating.
"No, he won't." Chuck confirmed, and Blair's face fell.
It wasn't until then that she realized how a small part of her had been holding on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Nate would make an effort and be back in the city in time for tonight's event. He knew how big of a deal this stupid dinner was.
"Great," she grimaced, not even the idea of getting a truckload of possible blackmailing material on her sometimes-partner in crime able to cheer her up any longer. Though she'd be damned if she let Chuck see that. "I'm sure he'll call me soon to explain."
Chuck's face was the epitome of amused disbelief.
"He'll call." She repeated icily and got to her feet, lifting her bag off the couch and slinging it over her shoulder.
Chuck shrugged, "Whatever gets you through the day."
"Leaving," She snapped, taking pleasure in the simple comfort being annoyed provided her with. Nate would call, he'd apologize and she'd forgive him once he'd done some serious groveling.
"And don't I always enjoy the view you provide while doing so," Chuck called out after her, and she let the door slam shut with a roll of her eyes.
.:¤:.
Halfway back home her irritation began to melt away; leaving room for a giddy sense of anticipation. Stepping out of the elevator and into the spacious hallway, Blair looked around for signs of her mother or Dorota, breathing a mental sigh of relief when she saw neither. She'd almost made it past the kitchen door and to the stairs when Dorota's voice cut through the silence and caused her to freeze mid-step.
"Ms. Blair, you back early."
Turning around to face the puzzled maid, Blair forced a breezy smile onto her lips. "Yes, well, there was a slight change of plans."
"I can prepare salad for lunch," Dorota offered, motioning in direction of the kitchen with an eager look on her face. "Or maybe sandwich?"
"I already ate," Blair lied effortlessly, tightening her grip of her bag and resisting the urge to tap her foot against the carpeted step of the stairs.
"Perhaps some ice tea?" The maid tried, "I made fresh this morning."
Blair realized a losing battle when she found herself in one. This was Dorota on a mission, and there would be no rest until she'd complied. She trudged down the stairs without a word and followed the maid – looking like the cat that swallowed the canary - into the kitchen. Two minutes later she hurried up the stairs, glass in hand, and closed the door of her bedroom resolutely behind her.
Settling her laptop down on top of her bedspread, she turned it on and then fished around inside her bag for the stack of DVD's. Neatly folding her legs underneath her, she spread the discs out before her; shuffling them around in search of one that would capture her interest while she waited for her laptop to process. There were at least a dozen of them; mostly labeled with dates from the last year, but some were older. Finally choosing one at random she pulled the disc from its cover and inserted it into her laptop. Moving so that she was lying stomach down on the bed, her fingers drummed impatiently against the bedspread as she waited for the disc to load.
When the window finally popped up on the screen, the rush of adrenaline through her system was immediate. They setup seemed easy enough; one folder for each day and each disc seemed to entail at least two days worth of footage. Opening one of the folders - labeled with a random date about six months ago – she found that each file in turn was labeled with initials. She quickly decided that CB was Chuck and also found one with NA that she assumed was Nate.
AF was a whole other question. Forehead wrinkling in thought, she tried to come up with anyone it could possibly be. In the end she settled for double-clicking on one of the dates labeled CB and AF. The screen came to life with the two squares in black and white, and finding a tool bar at the bottom Blair pressed 'play'.
.:¤:.
A little over an hour and a whole bunch of different files later she closed the lid of the laptop with an expression of utter disgust written all over her face. Staring moodily at the discs in front of her she seriously reconsidered her decision to take them in the first place. The past hour had been a complete waste of her time. All she'd learned about 'Chuck Bass behind the scenes' was that he was an absolute nymphomaniac. He didn't spend much time in his suite at all, actually, and the time he did seemed to consist of drinking, smoking and dragging women in there at ungodly hours of the morning. At least the question regarding the mysterious label AF had been solved, since it always seemed to come with one of Chuck's many conquests; anonymous female.
Ew.
Blair bunched the DVD's together, and stacked them away in one of the drawers of her vanity. As she did she saw the familiar cream-colored envelope at the bottom of the drawer, and unceremoniously dropped the DVD's on top of it with more force than necessary.
"Blair, have you-" Eleanor walked through the door, stopping mid-sentence as she spotted her daughter. "Is there a reason you're not getting ready?" She inquired frostily, a chunky gold bracelet dangling around her wrist as she folded her arms across her chest. "Honestly, Blair, the guest will be arriving in little over one hour."
Blair swallowed against the nervous tightness in her throat and forced herself not to look away.
"Yes mother, I'm sorry."
"Oh well," Eleanor sighed, waving her hand impatiently in direction of the bathroom, "Get going. I do expect you've told Nathaniel to be here early and accompany you while you're greeting our guests."
Blair cringed, a move not unnoticed by her mother and Eleanor's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is there something I should know?"
"Nate's not coming." Blair admitted, hating the slight tremor in her voice and forcing herself to straighten her posture. "He's gone sailing with the Captain."
"Pardon?" Eleanor scowled, "Why didn't you tell him how important tonight is?!"
"I did," Blair replied tiredly.
"This simply won't due." Her mother frowned, "There will be an empty seat at the table, surely there must be someone whom you could invite in Nathaniel's place."
"I could ask Kati," Blair agreed slowly, "I don't think there's anyone else who's back in town already," she added, not particularly keen on spending time with one of her minions, and especially not in front of her friend's parents who she knew would be in attendance.
"Blair, please be serious," Eleanor snapped, "You're not bringing one of your girlfriends as your date. That's preposterous. How about Charles?"
Blair looked at her mother in stunned disbelief. "Mother, you must be joking," she finally managed to choke out. "You want me to invite Chuck to your dinner? Do you not care about what people will say? I might as well hire a male escort!"
"I am well aware of your friend's questionable reputation," Eleanor retorted dryly, "But Mr. Dawkin and Elise," she continued, a smug note working its way into her voice as she mentioned the ambassador and his wife, "Are new to the city and will most likely only recognize Charles by his last name."
"Mother -" Blair objected, panic growing in her chest as she desperately tried to come up with an excuse – anything – to convince her mother into changing her mind.
"That's enough, Blair," Eleanor cut her off, "You will call Charles right this minute and make sure he escorts you to the party tonight, and that's the end of this discussion. Had you made sure Nate was staying in town, you wouldn't have put us in this situation in the first place."
With those words Eleanor turned on her heels and left the room in a cloud of silk; leaving Blair standing by the vanity and staring into thin air with a growing sense of doom. Curling her fingers against her palms she fought the urge to scream in frustration. This wasn't happening. Throwing a disdainful glare in the direction of her phone, she pursed her lips in frustration as she contemplated her options. Coming up with none, apart from her mother's ridiculous solution to 'their' problem, she let out a weary sigh and picked up the device from where it lain on her bed.
She pushed the number in slowly, hoping with each digit that her mother would return and profess it all to have been a horrible joke. When no such thing happened she pressed 'call', praying to whatever deity that might be listening that Chuck wouldn't pick up. Unfortunately, that didn't turn out to be the case.
"Waldorf," Chuck's voice greeted her, "Missing me already?"
Blair bit her lip to keep the less agreeable reply burning on her tongue from spilling out, and exhaled slowly before speaking.
"I need a favor."
Thanks for reading!
TBC?!
Thoughts?