Love Me Dead
A/N: Based off of spoiler scenes from previews and pictures, I filled in the gaps. BC can't go anywhere without bringing scandal with them so why not enjoy it? It's part one of at least three parts. Sort of drabble-esque but they all follow the same story.
Chapter 1: Kill Me Romantically
Chuck stood under the humming afternoon sun in his sweater, of all things, in the crisp grass of the backyard lawn. It crunched under his shoes as he shifted, the grass that is. He stood beside one of the pillars supporting the balcony of the main house, the stone as cold and heartless as he felt, and set his eyes on his step-sister and her guest.
The guest that should be his guest.
The guest that should be cat-napping languorously in his arms as he read the paper.
Yes, Chuck Bass had a secret desire to live the domestic life. He always had an itch to scratch that which he could never have.
One thing he couldn't have was a domestic life. For one, he'd need someone who'd be willing to share in the monotonous simplicity with him and said candidate is not even likely enough to be a myth in the Upper East Side.
Another thing was this guest Serena insisted on having live in close quarters with them. This guest that has been within an arms reach to him, multiple times, this week since she'd gotten here. He could have so easily reached out and grazed her pale cheeks or twirled a chocolate curl between his fingers.
Blair Waldorf was something he could not have. He had wanted her before he couldn't have her, though. She was just even more desired now that he couldn't even look at her without her scolding him for being inappropriate or crude.
He wanted her as she lay in her bathing suit, sipping drinks on the lawn chairs with Serena. As she raised a disapproving eyebrow at no doubt his sister's antics, or lack there of, the corner of his mouth twitched.
The third thing he couldn't have was worse than Blair. It ate away at him like a virus, silently gnawing and so constant that you forgot it was even present to begin with.
How sickeningly ironic that Blair lounged tauntingly in front of the white fortress that housed his darkest memories. He hadn't gone into that guest house since he was eleven and he had no intention of breaking that record.
Blair shifted and her legs grazed against each other. Two long slick limbs coated in silky flesh that could cut off the circulation in his waist when they gripped him. Chuck swallowed and ran a hand through his hair.
His movement was enough to draw Blair's attention to him. She held her gaze with a flushed expression on her face before Serena called her out on it.
That bitch always had to ruin the moment.
But he'd seen it. She was drawn to him, even now with Mark or whatever his name was, occupying the place as her king. She would always be drawn to him, try as she might to deny it, her lips ached for him.
He bowed his head and retired to the living room where he fixed himself a scotch. He didn't hear her open any doors, but her heard her sniffle and he slowly rotated his head around to confirm his thoughts.
Blair stood, with a sheer coverup dress hanging off her body, hiding every contour he imagined running his palms over, then his tongue...
But another sniffle and the utterance of his name relocated his gaze to her eyes, shining and lined with unshed tears. She had her arms wrapped around her torso, shielding his scorching eyes from burning the clothes right off of her. He turned completely and only the couch was between them, although it seemed like so much more.
She spoke first, "Why do you look at me like that?"
Chuck narrowed his eyes in confusion and drowned a piece of his gloom with a sip of scotch.
"Out there, I saw you watching me with that...that look. You can't look at me like that anymore," she spoke calmly, her voice shaking ever so slightly.
Chuck nursed his tumbler, watching the ice bob up and down, nodding as he looked downwards. Blair stood still, watching his peculiar movements with the tears still pushing to escape and her mouth ajar, lips turned toward the hell she knew they were both destined for.
His eyes slid upwards, ensnaring her and evoking a gasp she'd been trying to suppress. He glided over to her, evading the couch and all of the other barriers they'd built to protect their bruised hearts. She stood her ground as he stood so close to her, she could feel his breath tickle her cheeks. The hand that hung off of her shoulder shifted.
"Then how do you suppose I should look at you?" he growled. Blair made an odd noise as if she had tried to muffle a squeak of fear.
"I don't know, Chuck. Just not like that. Since when did you become so transparent?" she bit. Her fire returning if just for a moment.
She met his eyes with her glassy brown ones. He saw the hurt and the pain as she drank him in. His skin should have been tanned by the Tuscan sun and his cheeks rounder from all the gelato.
He set his glass on the side table and used the now free hands to tuck her hair behind her ears, letting his palms slide under her jaw and rest there contently. His thumbs stroked her warm cheeks as she let her eyes slide closed, breathing in through her nose the scent of fresh scotch and something sweetly rustic.
"I've always looked at you like I had to touch you," he whispered, drawing her face closer to his.
Blair's eyes fluttered open and she pressed her lips together nervously.
"That I can handle. It's when you look at me like I broke your heart that drives me insane," she whispered right back, looking into his dark eyes, desperate for her.
She lessened the distance between them, letting her lips come within a millimeter of his. To anyone else it would have looked like a kiss, but it wasn't. She wouldn't let it be. Her breath clouded his senses and he slowly ran his thumbs over her cheek once more, coaxing her to just let go for a second of bliss they both longed for.
"We both know you don't have one," she uttered, before breaking away and scurrying back to the lawn.
Chuck clenched his jaw and downed the rest of his scotch, trying to erase the taste of her breath on his lips.