Here I am again! Still Italian and still needing you to be a little clement about my English…I hope there aren't too many mistakes.
Anyway, this one-shot is about Nate and Chuck. I've always wanted to write about their friendship, because I genuinely think that their friendship, right after Chuck and Blair, was the best thing of the show. Chuck and his family are Nate's endgame and I really wanted to show this. The story begins after Chuck and Blair's wedding, the cursive parts are flashbacks…I hope you like it!
Chuck Bass knows (and remembers) everything:
Like you'll never get rid of your shadow,
Frank, you'll never get rid of me.
Let all the others fight and fuss,
whatever happens, we've got us. [1]
Nate doesn't actually remember how long he and Chuck have been friends.
He asks his mother one day afternoon, with a cup of tea in his hands and wearing the suit Chuck told him to wear the last time he decided to visit her ("Put on the blue sweater and the light blue shirt, Nathaniel. You know your mother likes to see you dressed like a good guy").
Annie shakes her head, a little annoyed. "Since ever," she answers.
Nate's first memory about their friendship is a four years old Chuck dressed like an adult, a more colorful and eccentric version of those business men his father occasionally invites for dinner.
Central Park is a blanket made of wet grass under their feet and Nate is having fun jumping in the mug, taking advantage of his nanny's distraction.
Chuck gives him an annoyed look. "I don't understand what's the fun in getting your clothes dirty, Nathaniel. Your mom is going to be so mad," he comments, holding off from the terrain on Nate's hands, who shrugs.
"It's just so funny, Chuck."
"It's childish."
And Nate keeps on getting dirty with the mug, staining his blue sweater and soiling his blonde hair. He gets dirty and e laughs, without taking care of Chuck's disgusted gaze, because that's what you do when you're four.
"But we are children!" he innocently objects.
Two hours later, when the nanny takes them back home and Annie looks daggers at Nate's stained light blue sweater, Chuck, without any stains on his dark blue jacket, steps forward.
"It was me, Mrs. Archibald. I dirtied Nate."
And Annie believes him. He's Chuck Bass, after all.
There's a picture of him and Chuck on his commode, next to a couple of misplaced ties (Chuck would give to the creased silk an annoyed look and then he would call a server to put them away, if he was there) and his cologne: two eleven years old boys smiling at the camera –Nate is smiling, Chuck is smirking - both probably drunk. There's a certain vague carefree in the brotherly hug they share in that photo.
He's stuck staring at it, a week after Chuck and Blair's wedding, with a nostalgic smile on his lips and a little bit of sadness in his chest. The scotch he's drinking seems to taste different without Chuck there to tell him that he won't pour him more than two fingers of liquor because "It's a matter of class": it tastes like separation, like bitter-sweet melancholy. He still has to get used to the idea of living alone.
So, when his phone rings and Chuck's name flashes on the screen, Nate doesn't even try to hide his enthusiasm.
"I bet you couldn't wait for this phone call, Nathaniel."
Nate feels like laughing. He has systematically checked on his phone for seven days, waiting for Chuck to call. He has even thought about calling him first, before the image of a really pissed Blair made him change his mind. And Chuck, for some strange reason, knows. As usual.
"New York misses you, guys," he happily comments and then he talks, he talks without stopping for an half hour about everything that comes to his mind, about his plans for The Spectator, about Sage, about Dan and Serena ("My sister is going to dump him for a bartender , soon or later," Chuck comments) and he doesn't ask about the honeymoon because the photos published on Page Six are more than enough to have an idea about how much they're having fun (Chuck and Blair in Monte Carlo, Chuck and Blair in Tuscany, Chuck and Blair in Paris, all of them in promiscuous attitudes). He talks until he hears Blair laughing and saying: "Remind Nate that you're married with me, not with him!"
That phone call is so reassuring that when he hangs up the two fingers of scotch he pours himself smiling taste like family, they taste like forever.
His story with Sage ends like it started, inconsistent and senseless (at least for Nate who watches her getting on a flight for London, unable to feel sad) and talking about the break-up is just an excuse to spend time with his best friend.
Chuck picks him up with his limo and he carefully listens to Nate, while he silently pours scotch in their glasses.
After the sixth drink Chuck is still perfectly sober, impeccable in his mauve suit, while Nate has already difficulty speaking clearly. At an imprecise point of his monologue, after more scotch and many other meaningless words, Nate mumbles: "I can't make any relationship last more than six months, Chuck. She told me she was going to leave and I didn't feel anything."
"It's the Occam's Razor: the simpler explanation is the right one [2]. Basically, Nathaniel, you didn't feel anything when she left because you didn't feel anything neither before."
"It happens every time."
"Oh, no. Not every time. Who was the last girl to break your heart, Nate?"
The answer Nate finds is more immediate than he'd want and he doesn't need to mention Serena, because Chuck had pinpointed the problem even before Nate noticed that there was one.
He hasn't the courage to say it out of loud, anyway. It's something that makes him feel pathetic and naive, so he waits for Chuck to answer for him.
But Chuck doesn't do that (the answer is banal and Chuck has always despised the obviousness). Instead he puts an hand on his shoulder and decrees:"Listen to Chuck, buddy [3]. Focus on yourself."
Six months after that talk The Spectator is the most read paper in New York and he's the man of the year.
Nate receives compliments from everybody and he shakes a lot of hands, even his grandfather's hand – and knowing that he doesn't have to thank him for his success is the reason why he allows himself to be a part of the Van Der Bilt family again.
Chuck is the only one he wants to thank. He does it in their old way, with a little Lost Weekend which includes the use of the Spectator jet, Blair's approval ("I'm serious, Archibald. If my husband doesn't come back home perfectly sober and healthy I swear I'll kill you both."), a Las Vegas casino, and a lot of lost money.
"You were right," Nate says, while he sips his liquor on the jet that is taking them back home
"It happens too often, Nathaniel. You'll have to be a little more specific about what you mean."
"About me. I needed to focus on myself."
Chuck similes, one of those pleased, snobbish smiles that Nate interprets as I'm Chuck Bass, of course I was right, and then he fills both of their glasses – two fingers, neat. "Being right is part of my duties as your best friend, Nathaniel."
Chuck and Blair's first year of marriage is a blaze of epicness, filled up with exclusive parties, diamonds and matching outfits, the million dollar life –an euphemism, clearly- of two young people at the peak of their success, exhibitionists and madly in love.
Nate still sees them as the children he grew up and became a man with, as the couple who invites him for dinner every other night – at least until Blair says, with a sigh of resignation, that he doesn't even need the invitation any more because "Dorota lays the table for Mr. Nate even if nobody tells her to do it."
Their home is also his home. Chuck doesn't explicitly tell him, but he gives him a copy of the keys.
"Why?" Nate asks him. It's an unnecessary question, Nate knows that there isn't any practical motivation and that those keys are a symbol, but he still wants to hear the answer. He wants to feel he's a part of something, he wants to know that he's more than the single best friend who feels lonely. He wants to know that he's not a burden for them.
"I have yours."
"It's a hotel suite, Chuck. And besides, it's your hotel."
Chuck rolls his eyes and sighs. Nate knows that Chuck hates blatant declarations of affection (except when it comes to Blair, to whom he tells I love you every time he has the occasion) and the request not to be cryptic probably really annoys him, but there's a certain enjoyment in the way Chuck answers him, anyway.
"Nathaniel, I'd have your keys even if you cheated on me with another hotel or if you lived in a real apartment." He pauses, one of those Chuck's theatrical moments that always make Nate laugh. "You should know I like taking care of my family."
"You sound like a mafia boss, you know that?"
"I'm more powerful and more dangerous, Nathaniel. I'm Chuck Bass."
The King and the Queen of Manhattan- there's no newspaper who haven't called them like that at least once and Chuck is so insanely pleased by that nickname that he gets a crown incised on the Empire plaque, right over his initials- renew their vows on New Year's Eve.
It's a great event, that crazily megalomaniac wedding that they couldn't have when they got married for real–something that includes golden plates, fireworks, a mountain of dark red roses and custom made dresses for all of them- and Nate is the best man.
He writes his speech seven times and he throws it in the trash as many, because he doesn't know where to begin or what words he should use (and Blair made his task even more difficult by personally handing him a list of taboo topics).
He writes and writes off at least until, the night before the ceremony, Serena shows up at the Empire in her bridesmaid dress –a cloud of black silk and sequins- with a bottle of tequila in her hands and the "Need to feel alive". Her eyes are rebel and desirous of freedom, something he has never been able to resist to.
Nate doesn't ask her why when, after their fifth round of tequila bum bum, she kisses him: he knows that it's wrong, that they're both drunk, that Serena's appearance is probably just the outcome of a fight with Dan and that they will both regret this in the morning, but he missed those lips so much that he can't help it.
The consequence of that folly is confusion: a bridesmaid dress abandoned on his room's floor and sheets that smell like Serena –tequila, lemon, and her exotic perfume- but no Serena in his bed.
And no speech.
So, when it comes his turn to speak (right after Serena, who squeezes Dan's hand and avoids his look as if it was poison, suffocating rebellion in her guilt), Nate improvises.
He has never been good with speeches, much less with the extemporary ones, but talking about Chucks winds up being extremely easy, natural, like talking about himself.
"I've never had a big brother, but I've had Chuck. He took care of me and I've been his family. And now that he's happily married, he's still mine," he concludes, before he wishes even more happiness to the couple who already have the most enviable wedded bliss.
Nothing seems to be truer or more concrete than what he said.
A week later, Nate finds him in his office. He's sitting with the legs crossed, his face hidden behind the New York Times financial page, drinking what it must be the first scotch of his day.
"How the hell did you get in?" Nate asks him, sitting at his desk. "No, wait. I don't think I want to know."
He's not really surprised, he knows that probably Chuck has been enough intimidating to cause his secretary's objections to be fruitless (most likely just by saying his name). When he puts down the newspaper, for some reason, the intimidating look is still there.
"After more than twenty years of friendship do you still seriously think that you can hide something from me, Nathaniel?
"What are you talking-"
"You and Serena."
Nate heavily sighs and holds his head back, closing his eyes and mentally calling himself an idiot.
He knew that Chuck was going to find out when he decided not to tell him -Chuck always knows everything- but pretending that nothing happened has been just the simplest thing to do.
"There's nothing to know, Chuck. It simply happened, she was alone, I was alone, she took a bottle of tequila and…"
Chuck stops him, rising the palm of his hand. "We'll have time to talk about you, about my sister and about why the two of you decided to go for a walk on the memory lane later." He places his paper on the desk and makes himself more comfortable on the leather chair. "What I really want to know now is why you didn't tell me anything."
Nate sighs again. He doesn't really know. He doesn't know if this is about his desperate wish to forget or about the shame he feels: Chuck is an happily married man, so incredibly solid with his wedding band and the certainty to be loved, while he's still in love with the only woman who has never had the courage to really want him.
"I feel like a fool," he simply says, because it's the truth.
"Because you thought that you could hide something from me or because of what happened?"
Chuck's intimidating glance is gone, replaced by an amused and definitely more relaxed smirk.
"Both," Nate murmurs and Chuck giggles, a little pleased. "I…I didn't want you to think that I'm an…"
"Tell me, Nathaniel. Have I ever judged you?"
Nate bats the eyelids, completely floored. The answer is clearly no and it's also the reason why not telling Chuck about Serena has been totally pointless.
"You're going to tell me what happened tonight, at dinner," Chuck goes on, while he's standing up. "I'm picking you up at 8 PM. Try not to wear jeans, Nathaniel."
There's something annoying in the way Chuck always succeeds in leaving him no possibilities to object, but Nate smiles while he watches him disappear beyond the door.
Nate always forgets to inform when he drops by at the Basses' place, it's something so logical an natural for him that he doesn't feel the need to tell that he's arriving, but Chuck never shows up at Nate's without letting him know. He usually likes to delight in the idea to be awaited for, possibly with a drink ready for him and a tray full of éclairs appositely made to celebrate his arrival.
So, when Chuck comes unexpectedly out of his elevator one February night, Nate knows that there's something going on. He understands it from the way his best friend moves, with less grace than usual, from how he quickly pours himself a drink and stands still in the middle of the room, his fingers nervously ticking on the glass.
"Are you ok?" Nate asks him confused. He has never been good at reading people, not as good as Chuck at least, but he knows that, whatever is the reason of that breaking in, it must be something enough upsetting to let Chuck Bass with his tie undone.
Chuck doesn't answer.
"Man?"
"Blair is pregnant," he finally whispers.
Nate holds his breath in front of the mix of emotions he can see on Chuck's face. There's joy and excitement, but also a deep fear in his paleness. Chuck's hands shake while he tightly holds his glass and Nate understands where that terror is coming from: nobody ever talks about Bart Bass, it's some sort of taboo topic, but there's his ghost in Chuck's eyes in that moment and Nate knows that he's the problem.
Chuck doesn't say that he's scared, but he doesn't give him the time to congratulate. "What if I'm not able to be a dad?"
It's a simple and candid question and it's exactly what Nate was expecting, so he already knows how to answer.
"I'm sure you're going to be an amazing father, Chuck," he sighs and pauses to find the right words. "You're different. You're not like him, you've never been and you'll never be."
Nate doesn't says Bart's name, he tactfully leaves it implicit, and when Chuck looks straight in his eyes some of the fear changes into gratitude. He doesn't need to say anything more, he simply gives Chuck another drink and prepares one for himself.
"Here's to the next heir to the throne of this city," he says, raising a toast and when Chuck lifts his glass there's only happiness in his dark eyes.
They're five when Nate meets Chuck's dad for the first time (he has never seen him before because Mr. Bass drops Chuck at the Archibald's in the morning when it's too early to wake up and he comes to pick him up at night, when Nate is already sleeping and he's always too busy for the dinners his mom hosts). He's really scary.
A tall man with blue eyes, but his eyes aren't cheerful like his dad's and aren't deep like his mom's. Mr. Bass talks with the Captain all dinner long about something that Nate doesn't understand while Chuck silently sits at the table, extremely calm, toying with his food but not eating it.
He doesn't even take a bite of his shepherd's pie –and Chuck loves shepherd's pie, Nate knows that because once they stole it from the kitchen and ate it all, causing themselves a painful indigestion.
Nate doesn't understand: Chuck has been with them for a week and seven days (or six? How many days does a week have?) are really an eternity. When the Captain has to leave for a few days he always brings a lot of gifts for him when he comes back and spends the whole weekend with him.
Instead Mr. Bass leans towards his son in the middle of the dinner and says: "I really hope that you behaved, Charles."
He doesn't add anything else.
"You can live with us for another week, you know that?" Nate whispers in Chuck's ear, right before he leaves. "So your dad will forget why he's so mad at you."
It's a perfect plan, he thinks, because his mom always forgets that she's mad at him after a while, even if he gets into big trouble, like when he broke that Chinese vase.
Chuck lowers his gaze. "Bart never forgets why he's mad. He's always mad."
Henry Charles Nathaniel Waldorf Bass is born on the 30th of September, at three in the morning, with a week of delay, just to show the world that he's a Bass.
Nate doesn't know if he's smiling because of Chuck, who is literally moved to tears (and Serena takes a picture of the most powerful and intimidating man of America crying with his shirt unfastened and messy hair, just to use it to blackmail him), or because of that baby's incredible perfection. He only knows that, after spending hours smiling, his facial muscles hurt.
"He has more names than and hire to the throne, Chuck," Serena comments, the morning after.
They're all in Blair's room (Chuck actually rented the whole floor, which nullifies any rule about a maximum number of visitors) and no one can take the eyes off of baby Henry, who sleeps soundly in Blair's arms, wearing a purple romper suit. He's like a mini Chuck.
"He is." Blair answers for her husband. Nate starts to smile again. He can't help it, that happiness is so contagious that he even forgets about Serena sitting on Dan's knees.
"I'm quite offended, nephew. There isn't my name included in the long list of your son's name," Jack grumbles an hour later, both joking and accusing at the same time. They're in in the hospital's coffee bar, to give the girls an only women allowed moment.
"God, you Basses are all so self-centred, aren't you?" Dan says, shaking his head.
Jack ignores him and so does Chuck, while he laces his coffee with some scotch. He hands the silver hip flask to his uncle, who goes ahead: "He doesn't have my name, but he has the blondie's name."
"Nathaniel is Henry's uncle, Jack," Chuck says, categorical but amused.
" I'm your uncle, which means that I'm also your son's uncle."
"You're his great-uncle. And besides this isn't about blood links."
"Chuck is right," Nate eventually says, putting an end to the discussion. "This has nothing to do with blood."
Henry becomes his greatest joy and being an uncle satisfies him even more than the political turn of his career. It's like dealing with three years old Chuck and Blair mixed together, aside from the fact that Henry is a serene, always smiling child, spoiled and cuddled by everyone.
Suddenly he's not just Nathaniel any more, but he's Uncle Nate, the one who always wins the competition for the best gift (Chuck and Blair are clearly excluded from the battle, because even if he's really rich, Nate can't still afford to buy a whole ranch for a birthday) and this makes him feel incredibly important.
It's with him that Henry watches his first baseball game, when he turns four. Nate opens his eyes with surprise when he sees him toddling down the stairs, wearing a light blue suit and a purple bowtie.
"Henry, you can't come to the Yankees game dressed like that," Nate says, trying not to laugh.
"Why not, uncle Nate?" Henry asks him. He's giving him a serious glance and Nate knows that he's really touchy when it comes to his wardrobe.
"Because you have to wear casual clothes at baseball games! See? I'm wearing jeans!" he explains.
"I don't like casual, uncle Nate! I like suits! Daddy has a suit like mine, you know? It's custom made! See? There's my name written on the shirt." He proudly declares. "Mommy says that only people from Brooklyn wear jeans. And plus daddy said that we have the best seats. This means we're very important".
After that comment Nate can't do anything but laugh and ruffle his nephew's hair.
"You really are a Bass, buddy".
Serena and Dan break up and come back together four times in four years, Nate remembers the exact number because it's also the number of times Serena ends up in his bed, before disappearing somewhere (there's been Spain and Greece and Serena's wild eyes on every paper) and coming back to whisper in his ear:"I want to be different, Natie. I want to be better than this."
He never finds the courage to tell her that he doesn't need her to be better or different, he only needs her to be herself, to be just Serena.
It's Chuck that picks him up from the ground –metaphorically and sometimes literally- every time it happens.
He takes him home for dinner, makes Dorota prepare his favorite dish ("Daddy, are we eating hamburger and fries because auntie Serena made uncle Nate sad again?" Henry asks and Blair rolls her eyes) and then he takes two bottle of scotch ("One for me and one for you, Nathaniel. No one can bear your Serena chapter without being drunk.") and silently listens to him even until the dawn, when Nate needs it.
Then, one day, Serena arrives at the Empire – as usual, like she does every time- without any trace of rebellion in her eyes: there's just a mild melancholy in her glance. She gives him the wedding invitation without saying a word and then she goes away, leaving him in the middle of the room with that card in his hands and a catch in the throat.
"You need to let her go, Nathaniel," Chuck tells him the same night, with a serious tone. "You're just hurting yourself."
"He doesn't make her happy," Nate sadly objects. "He wants to change her," he adds, with a little anger.
Chuck shakes his head. "She needs to understand that on her own. You know Serena, you can't impose her anything."
Chuck is right –again- but Nate doesn't answer. It's like everything around him has just turned gray and meaningless.
Everything but Henry, who gets his father's secretary to deliver him a gift at the office, the day after: it's a white paper, whit Henry's initials printed on the bottom ("Personalized paper, like the one I use." Chuck proudly explains him some days later) and two people holding their hands drawn on it. On the top of the paper there's written: "Me and Uncle Nate".
That is the happiest moment of his week.
Running for major is just the next logical step of his career, but Chuck has to nudges him for a moth before Nate makes up his mind. He keeps on telling himself that he's too young and too honest to be the major, that he's not competent enough, that he's not good enough, at least until Chuck and Blair organize a real "convincing" dinner (they even leave Henry to sleep at Lily's, to have Nate's full attention).
"I think that you're just scared," Chuck says and Blair strongly nods behind him. "You're a successful man who deserves what he has, Nathaniel. When are you going to get it?" he asks him.
Nate's answer arrives a week later when he drops by at Chuck's office with a bottle of Champagne.
"Are we celebrating something?" Chuck asks him amused, with a smirk which says that he has already understood.
"I'm running for major. You were right, I was just scared," Nate admits, with a smile. "And now don't tell me that Chuck Bass is always right," he hurries to add and then both of them start laughing.
They all love traditions and they constantly create new ones. For some years now he and Chuck have gotten used to smoke a cigar on Christmas Eve afternoon, while Blair is taking Henry to ice skating in Central Park. It's something that Nate really loves, because it makes him think about when they were kids and they used to spend that afternoon trying to discover where Anne had put Nate's Christmas gifts.
"I'm warning you, Nathaniel: Blair is extremely enthusiastic today," Chuck says, after he blows out some smoke.
"Why?"
Chuck smirks, lighting up with pride. "Your six years old nephew has just established a monarchy in his class."
"What?" Nate gives him a confused look.
"It seems that he has told his classmates that his father and his mother are the most powerful man and woman of Manhattan and that his uncle is the major, which makes him, textually quoting him, better than all of them. You can imagine how he has been quite convincing."
"And how do you know this?" Nate asks, really amused.
"Oh, he told us. You had to see how happy he was, he was very, very proud."
Nate guffaws, because he remember when both Chuck and Blair did the very same at Henry's age. "He's totally your son, man."
"It's really a pity that Serena isn't here with us, anyway. Blair is still really upset, even if she's trying to pretend she doesn't care," Chuck says after another cigar. "She told her that she's supposed to spend Christmas with us, with family and not alone in a Caribbean island, but Serena insisted that she needs to clear her mind after the divorce."
Nate sadly sighs, because he'd want her to be there with them, with him, but neither Serena's absence can take him away the warmth he feels: he's with his family and that's really all that matters.
"Daddy, how long have you and uncle Nate been friends?" Henry asks later that night, while Chuck is teaching him how to play poker behind Blair's back, who is too busy talking in French whit her dad to notice anything.
"Right, Chuck. How long?" Nate asks him too, smiling.
Chuck sighs. "Since ever," he theatrically answers.
"Do you think that we will always be best friends forever, Chuck? [4]" Nate asks him one afternoon, when they're six. He has his head leaned against the wall and his eyes are full of hope.
"Did Blair make you watch The Fox and the Hound [4], Nathaniel?"
Nate ignores him (actually it's Serena who made him watch it last week, and he caressed her hair when she started to cry, trying to not do the same because Chuck has told him that real men don't cry).
"Blair always says that we will love each other forever. How much time is forever? Do you know what love means, Chuck? Is it that thing that happens when two people kiss each other? Have you ever kissed someone, Chuck?"
"Has anybody ever told you that you ask too many questions?"
Chuck is silently laying on the floor, with his eyes closed and wearing a pink shirt: Chuck never talks so much.
Nate grumbles. "You are so boring," he says, because he really wants an answer.
Asking things to Chuck is satisfying, because Chuck always knows everything and Nate doesn't understand how he has all the answers. He's learnt how to count only two weeks ago and he still can't read all of the alphabet's letters. Neither Serena can read them…maybe it's her that he's supposed to kiss?
"Forever is forever, Nathaniel: it means until you die."
Obviously, all the other questions are ignored.
"Can you really be friend with someone for such a long time, daddy?" Henry asks, enthusiastic and curious.
"Not always, Henry. But Nathaniel is like a brother to me, that's why you call him uncle. Plus, I made a promise when I was your age: I promised him that we were going to be friends for life. And Bass men always keep their promises, Hen."
At those words Nate chokes on the scotch he was drinking. "Do you really remember that?" he asks Chuck, when he finally catches his breath. He's confused and quite shocked.
Chuck smirks. "Chuck Bass knows and remembers everything, Nathaniel."
"Is it so much time?"
"Yes, it is."
"Then I want to be your very best friend forever [4]" Nate affirms, standing up.
He observes Chuck opening up his eyes and placing is lips in that strange smile, the one Blair calls smirk. Blair really knows many words.
"As long as you stop asking me so many questions."
And then Nate laughs ant throws him a pillow, an another, an again, until Chuck finally stands up and starts reacting. He surrenders only when he notices that his shirt is crumpled.
"Okay, fine, fine!" He has his hands up, as a resignation gesture. "Forever."
Notes:
[1] "Me and my Shadow", Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr
[2] The Occam's razor is a principle of parsimony, economy, or succinctness. It states that among competing hypotheses, the one that makes the fewest assumptions should be selected.
[3] In the Pilot (1X01) Chuck tells Nate: "Talk to Chuck, buddy".
[4] The Fox and the Hound is a 1981 American animated film loosely based on the Daniel P. Mannix novel of the same name, produced by Walt Disney Productions. There are a few quotes in the text, a little adapted to make more sense.