A/N: this fic is based on the movie what happens in vegas, but Chuck and Blair style. I have to explain a few things first off, since its very AU. In this fic, Serena and Blair are best friends, and Chuck and Nate are best friends, but Chuck and Nate have never met Serena and Blair. They didn't know each other in high school or anything like they do on the show. This is my first fic, so I hope it turns out okay (:
Ohh, and by the way, I don't own what happens in vegas, nor do I own Chuck and Blair. If I did, they'd be married already.
Blair Waldorf strode down Lexington avenue, hand in hand with the love of her life, holding a pumpkin frapchino in one hand, and her fiancé, Marcus's, hand in the other. It was the day of his birthday, and blair had big plans, ones that she had been hiding from him all week. Since he'd popped the question, and she was finally closer to the fairy tale ending she'd always dreamed of, she wanted to make this birthday even more special than normal.
She'd been dating Marcus for the last year, and their relationship had been perfect; down to every last kiss, and every last everything, exactly how Blair wanted it. When she was in high school, she'd always dreamed of the perfect relationship, the perfect life she was going to have, and now she was living out her fairy tale. She was getting married to a lord, she was going to be a dutchess. Her future blew breakfast at tiffany's out of the water; it was in fact a bit more Roman Holiday, thanks to that royal touch. Everything was going according to plan, and that was how Blair wanted it. Precise, and never straying from the plan.
He was sweet, and he was loving, a bit preoccupied with work sometimes, but then again, so was Blair. She'd taken over her mother's fashion empire ever since Eleanor had promoted her, and had been working less. But Blair hadn't been her first pic anyways. Sure enough, her mom had offered the job to Serena first, claiming that serena had more experience in the 'fashion industry' than Blair did.
All Serena had ever done in the industry was model like three times, and Blair was convinced she could have done a better job. But her mother always picked Serena. It was Serena this, Serena that, but thank god, Serena didn't except the job. If she had, Blair would have had to disown her, and revert back to destructing her yet again. But instead, her mother gave Blair the job, which was quite bitter sweet.
She knew that she wasn't her mother's first choice, and yet again, she felt like she'd never be good enough for her mom. That was the same feeling she got with Marucs sometimes. He was so perfect, so amazing and it made her feel inadequate, even though she was Blair Waldorf, and she knew she shouldn't let anyone make her feel that way. Of course, she'd never admit it, but sometimes she'd wonder if he ever thought about leaving her for someone who was thinner, more beautiful, with royal blood, someone who he'd want to be with more than her. It was a thought that she would never speak out loud, because Blair never spoke aloud of herself being anything but utter perfection. But perfection was only an illusion.
"So darling, I made us reservations at butter tonight. I figured we could grab a bite, and then plan out that vacation we've been wanting to take," Blair said, a smile on her face turning to Marcus, who didn't share the same smile. He instead shook his head, in a confused manner. "You're making plans to make plans again?" Marucs said, his hand slightly loosening his grip on hers. Blair nodded, taking a small sip of her latte. "I just want to get everything all planned out, that's all," she said, explaining.
All of the sudden, it was like the mood had just changed. Marcus dropped her hand, before nodding at her and telling her that he needed to hurry up and catch a cab for work, and that he wouldn't have time to wait for their driver. That was odd, but Blair brushed it off. Whatever was going on with him, would all be fixed, once he saw the exquisite surprise birthday party she'd planned for him that evening. All of their friends were coming over, and Blair had made sure to have dorota get the best caterer, the best champagne; the best everything for the event. No expense was spared, and Blair couldn't wait to see his reation when he saw that she'd done all that for him.
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A knock came at Chuck Bass's palace penthouse door, as he lazily padded from his bedroom to answer it. Maybe it was one of those hot-as-hell brazillian chicks he'd met at a club the night before. Or maybe, it was veronica, that hot red head with the teacher/sex kitten sort of appeal. Maybe it was that blonde from two nights ago? Which ever girl it was, Chuck couldn't remember, nor did he care, as long as they were long legged, beautiful, and ready for a good time.
Chuck didn't keep track of his conquests; they were meaningless, nothing but another notch on the bed post. They had to be amazingly good for him to even vaguely remember them, and remembering their names? Ha, not a chance. In fact, Chuck wasn't even sure he ever knew half their names. All he hoped, was that whoever was at the door, wasn't a repeat, because if there was one thin Chuck didn't ever do, it was sleep with the same girl more than once. Sleep with one twice, and it was practically monogamy.
And Chuck didn't do monogamy. Not even close. In all his twenty three years of living, had he ever had a real relationship. Not ever, in however long he'd live, would he. It wasn't worth it; it was pointless. Why go through all that relationshit if he could et what he wanted with no strings attacheted? Dating was an old-fashioned institution, something that only pansies did, and chuck was never going to take part in it. He was going to live in his pent house with a different girl each night until he was eighty, no marriage, and no obnoxious, loudmouthed, granny-panties wearing girlfriend to stop him. He knew that once girls got comfortable, they started breaking out the old lady underwear, and claiming that they were "too tired" to do anything.
Chuck threw open the door to find a hot brunette in a sexier version of a girl scout outfit, with a little rolled up skirt, and a shit that was tied to revel her entire stomach. Well, well, well. Since when did girl scouts get so sexy? Chuck would have been buying those cookies along time ago if he'd seen this. "hi, would you like to buy some cookies?" the girl asked, giving him a seductive look in her eyes. Oh, somehow he didn't quite think all she wanted was to sell him cookies, and he didn't mind that one bit.
"I would, but I don't have any cash on me at the moment. Its all credit cards," Chuck said smirking, because in reality, he had loads of cash in his suite. But he was planning on seeing what else he could get out of her, other than a few boxes of thin mints. "Well that's good, because I don't have any cookies," she said, leaning in closer, before whispering to him, that someone hired her as a gift to him, and that was all it took, before Chuck had her pressed up against the wall.
He had work, and he knew it, but at this point, he'd rather fuck work, than not fuck this hot girl scout stripper or whoever she was. He'd just tell his dad he got stuck in traffic on Madison Avenue. Yeah, that was it. And with that last thought, he pulled her into his suite and slammed the door.
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Blair stood next to a table filled with presents, with Serena standing beside her. Marcus's park avenue pent house was thoroughly decorated beautifully, and the guests of the party circulated around, talking. "Do you think I went over board?" Blair asked her best friend, as she began sticking candles in the dean and deluca cake she'd had her assistant pick her up. It was Marcus's favorite. Serena shook her blonde head, her waves flying around her face. "No, B. You did, just the right about of board. Which is exactly what I am right now! When can we start the drinking?" Serena joked. Blair shook her head in annoyance.
"Now, if you honestly feel the need," she said, turning around for a moment. Blair turned to Serena, pulling an envelope off the stack of presents and waving it in front of her. It was her birthday present to Marcus, well one of the many. "Look what I got him," Blair said, as Serena took the envelope in her hand. "Vegas?" she said, holding the airplane tickets, looking at the envelope in confusion. "Blair, you hate vegas."
Blair nodded at her best friend. It was true, she absolutely hated Vegas. All it was, was a place for a bunch of inebriated pigs, to go and hope to get lucky. Or a bunch of mini-van mom's and beer loving dad's nicest vacation of the year with their kids, in a motel on the cheaper end. Totally unappealing to Blair. The thought of sitting there, watching people make idiots of themselves, was completely disgusting, Vegas was possibly the tackiest city on earth, besides Miami of course, and Blair didn't do tacky.
She did refined, beautiful, classy, and chic. But Marcus had always wanted to go Vegas, since he'd never been, and she decided that she could deal with it for a weekend. After all, they were going to stay in the Wyhn, the nicest and least classless hotel on the strip, and if he wanted to venture into the casino, Blair would just spend her time in the Bliss spa on the third floor, getting buffed, waxed and polished. It was the perfect plan.
"I do hate Vegas. But that what makes it a great gift. It's completely and utterly selfless," Blair said with a small smile, as Serena rolled her big navy blue eyes. "You act like Vegas is like going to Brooklyn," she laughed, as Blair simply shot her a look that said she meant business. "That's because it is. Its practically a giant STD ridden brothel where-" blair was cut off by the sound of the elevator charging up the shaft. Marcus was almost home.
"GET IN YOUR PLACES," Blair snapped, at the large crowd. If they wrecked this for her, she was going to-no time to think of what she was going to do if this was wrecked. She had to get everything into proper order. "everyone? When he comes in the room, all of you jump out of your hiding places and yell surprise!" Serena told everyone, demonstrating the proper surprise yell herself. Blair rolled her eyes, and shot Serena na annoyed glare. "that was so complicated, S, I might have to write it all down," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes, before leaving the room. She wanted to meet Marcus in the foyer, so that she could lead him into his surprise.
When she met him in the foyer, her heart was racing at a million miles an hour. Was her hair okay? Were the curls perfect? Maybe she should have gone with the red Oscar de la renta dress! Was black too morbid? Was he going to like the champagne she picked out? Maybe the party was too much? Maybe he wanted an intimate gathering? He mind filled with questions, but her face, as usual registered none of them. "Hi, sweetheart, how was your day at work?" she asked, as if there weren't two hundred of their closets friends hiding in the parlor.
Marcus looked down at her, and dropped her hand. "It was fine, Blair. But we need to talk," he said, avoiding her eyes. What was going on? Blair's mind was racing again. Those four words were ineveitable in a relationship, but they were like death itself. Nothing good, ever came of those four words. 'we need to talk' was exactly what her mom had told her before dropping the bomb that her father was gay, and leaving her.'we need to talk' was what Serena had said to her, before telling her that Eleanor had offered her the job over Blair. Blair's breath hitched, and she could feel her heart pounding against her chest, and her palms getting sweaty.
"Sure. What do we need to talk about, darling?" she asked, only a hint of nervousness in her voice, a hint she couldn't quite avoid. Marcus took a step back, and set his brief case down on the ground, before returning to the conversation. "This isn't working, Blair. I've been trying; hoping that this was going to work out for a long time, but it just isn't. When I come home from work, I want this everything to be relaxing, but you're so on all the time. Planning every last detail," Marcus said, exasperatedly, a look in his eyes that said he'd wanted to tell her this for a long time.
Blair's heart was dropping in her chest, but his words weren't sinking in. he couldn't be trying to tell her it was over, he just couldn't be. He loved her. He was going to marry her. Their future couldn't be over; her fairy tale couldn't be crushed. He couldn't be actually breaking up with her. Maybe he was just saying he wanted them to spend some relaxing alone time together! After all, he had said he wanted less planning. But Blair had a deep and dark feeling that that wasn't what he meant. "What does this mean? Blair said, softly, her eyes starting to well up with tears she'd never cry in front of him. She'd never let her self look so broken.
"It means, I don't want to marry you. I don't want to do this anymore," Marcus said, obviously frustrated at her. Blair took a step back, with an ice cold glare, one that masked all her hurt. He didn't want to be with her. She had always known that she wasn't good enough for him; he'd always made her feel that way. Something about they way he talked to her, would undermine her confidence, making her feel less like the queen she was, and more like Cinderella marrying the prince. It made her feel no better than a common person, and it certainly didn't make her feel like a waldorf. Because Waldorf's never were anything but superior.
She clenched her teeth, willing herself not to cry. She'd never cry in front of him, in fact she never had. All it would do, was make her feel more like a broken china doll than ever, and she couldn't feel that feeling. She was stronger than it. "Fine. I'll get my stuff out by tomorrow," Blair said, sounding perfectly ice cold in her tone of voice. She'd been living with marcus for the past year, but she certainly wasn't now. Blair turned around to walk back in the living room, because she couldn't bear to look at her perfect life slipping away any longer, but she turned back to him as she walked out of the room one last time. "And by the way, dear, I'm keeping the Picasso," Blair said, referring to the priceless painting that she and marucs had bought, and hung over the fireplace.
As she entered the living room, everyone shouted a weak surprise. They'd all heard the details of her ruined relationship from the foyer, and Blair muttered a weak surprise. Oh it was a surprise all right, a surprise that was on her.
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Chuck hurriedly threw on his shirt, barely even fumbling with the buttons as he buttoned it up-it was routine. He took one look at the brunette who was lounging on his bed, and she definitely wasn't looking as hot as before. "Get out," Chuck said, in a bored tone of voice, as he proceeded to put his tie on.
The brunette looked at him in shock, as he merely responded with a smirk. "Hurry up now darling. You're charm is wearing off, and so is whatever covered your face before," Chuck said, rather blasé, as he hurried the pissed off girl whose name he didn't even know, out the door. After all, he couldn't let her get too comfortable, because then she'd think it was an invitation to come it sure as hell wasn't.
Plus the small fact that his dad was going to rip him a new one in the most stoic, emotionless way possible once he showed up for the meeting that he was already an hour late for. He was late for countless meetings, day after day, and he didn't see why it bothered his dad so damn much. It wasn't like Chuck really did all that much during them; at the moment, he was just there to watch, and add in the occasional comment about opening a new burlesque club, like he had Victorola, because his dad never listened to him anyways. Bart always thought he was just messing around and that any business propsition he made, was only in an attempt to gain Chuck more girls, or alchol, two things that he really didn't need anymore of. He sighed, as he flung on his tie. He did wish his dad would actually listened to him every once in a while.
He was there, at Bass industries in ten minutes flat, record time for new york traffic. He'd threatened his limo driver with all hell, so that he'd swerve around nearly every cab, and honk as much as possible. Chuck Bass, couldn't wait for anyone, especially some measly cab driver, or a van full of stupid low rent tourists, seeing manhattan for the first time. he walked through the front door of the company building on Wall Street, acting as usual, like he owned the place, which he virtually did. He winked at the secretary, a usual routine, because she was smoking hot. He'd slept with almost all of his dad's secretaries, (probably so had bart), except for this one. She must have been new…Maybe he could get to know her a little better in the elevator after the stupid ,meeting.
Chuck pushed open the doors to the conference room, and fuck, it was ending. All the CEO's of all of Bart's partners companies were already in there, packing up their things, obviously leaving after finishing the meeting. Fuck, was he really that late? Chuck glanced down at the rolex watch around his wrist, confirming that he was in fact, that late. "Hello Mr. Bass, nice of you to join us," one of his father's associates said, on the way out, in a slightly condescending tone. Chuck just smirked at him. "Glad to see you too, Frank. I saw your wife last night at the charity event, and let me tell you, she is damn hot," he said, walking past the guy. His father sat behind a desk, as all the corperate workers filed out, in silence. Oh shit. He was pissed.
"Charles." Bart began, beginning conversation, as usual. One thing about Bart that absolutely never changed was his facial expression. He had one, and it was stoic. "Do you realize that this is the sixth time you were late to a meeting in the last two weeks?" Bart asked pointedly, shuffling his papers into his briefcase. Chuck nodded. Shit. Shit. Shit. His dad was counting?
"Yes, father. But I can explain., I-" Chuck started, before he was interrupted by Bart. "Charles, you seem to have an explanation for each time you're late, and none of them are terribly ground breaking," Bart said, this time so immersed in his papers that he didn't even look at Chuck.
"Well, I was…occupied," Chuck said, not being able to help the smirk that passed over his face. Bart looked up this time, with a knowing look in his eyes. "And for you, that means booze, and women. Charles, you were being prepared to take over this company. But you're too busy being the life of the party. You're twenty two years old.! Its time to grow up and be a man," Bart said, his voice raising this time. Chuck nodded, because he knew it was true. But he didn't fucking want to. He wanted to die as the man who partied, boozed, potted, and slept with all the playboy centerfolds and their mothers. He didn't want to die as the man who was mature, and attended every fucking meeting, and had a boring ass life.
Before Chuck could say anything else, Bart continued. "Listen, you know you're like a son to me. But I have no choice but to fire you." Chuck was shocked this time. He knew his dad was going to be pissed as hell, but he didn't think that Bart was actually going to fire him. "I am your son!" Chuck said, in response to his dad's last comment. Bart never acted like it, but Chuck was his son. Not an employee, or a business partner, but his own flesh and blood.
"A technicality," Bart responded, his cold eyes not filled with any remorse. "This will not be a discussion, Charles. I expect everything to be out of your office by the end of the day."
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Blair sat across from Serena at the bar they'd set up for the party, avoiding eye contact.
What she wanted to do, was run up stairs, throw all Marcu's shit out thewindow, letting it fall the ground of park avenue below them, eat godiva chocolates, and then fall asleep watching breakfast at tiffany's. but the only problem with that was, she had a house full of at least two hundred people- all of which had heard her complete humiliation. Things couldn't get any worse. Blair slid her engagement ring up and down her finger, a symbol of her failed relationship.
"B, I think you need to take that ring off," Serena said, her voice sympathetic. She never liked to see her best friend hurting, and this was definitely one of those times where Blair was crushed. Blair shook her head. She didn't want to take it off just yet. It would be like excepting defeat, something that Blair Waldorf had never been able to do.
"No, its fine. I think I'll…just keep it on for a few more days," Blair said, still playing with it on her finger. "Maybe I'll just wear it on the other hand," she said, sounding more miserable this time, sliding the ring off. She hated to appear this upset in front of her guests, but she couldn't help it. He'd fucking dumped her! After all she'd done for him, he decided that he didn't want to marry her.
Suddenly, Serena's bright blue eyes flickered. She knew just the thing to make her best friend feel better. "Blair…you know whats going to make you feel better?" Serena asked, placing on hand over her best friend's now ringless hand, as her other hand creeped toward the plan tickets that lay on the counter. "Where's the one place you can go, to forget all your troubles, and act like a total idiot?" Serena asked holding up the tickets this time, with a triumphant smile. Blair looked up, her brown eyes filled with annoyance. Serena wasn't actually suggesting that a dirty, sex ridden, hellhole was going to fix her problems. Maybe Serena had had a few too many.
"Do not say Vegas!" Blair quipped. Serena smiled more, waving the tickets. "Vegas, baby!" she shouted. "Vegas?" Blair asked, still in complete confusion as to how Vegas would help her. The entire city reeked of classless family vacations; fat assed tourists with big cameras, sun screen, and a penchant for buffets. "Come on B! Think about it a little! wouldn't it be good to get away from this place? Live a little!" Serena insited. Blair did pause and think about it for a moment. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to get away from her and Marcus's apartment. She could have the movers get her stuff- plus the picaso she was taking, while she was gone. She wouldn't even have to be there and deal with it. It would be like…..Audrey Hepburn escaping in Roman Holiday. Except for the small fact that Vegas was no Europe. But there was that hotel that looked like the Eiffel tower… "Vegas," Blair repeated, still thinking about it.
"I could just get away," Blair repeated, this time with a bit more vigor. "Vegas!" Serena chanted, attempting to egg on her best friend. And all of the sudden, to Blair's own shock, she was chanting it too, in agreement. Because as much as she hated that shit infested city…she would hate seeing marcus's face as she moved out her stuff, so much more.
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"I mean, think of all the money I made the man! I created victorola!" Chuck said, pissed as hell, ranting to his best friend Nate Archibald, as he sipped on his scotch. "You're my lawyer! Can I sue the shit out of him?" Chuck asked, taking another swig of scotch. Nate had gone to Harvard law, and become a lawyer, and since then, had been dealing with all of Chuck's business affairs.
Nate shook his head. "Well, the problem with sueing your father is that…well, he's your father," nate tried to explain, taking a swig of the scotch that was in front of him. He was never a huge fan of scotch; he usually liked vodka, but scotch was Chuck's drink of choice.
"He'd love it. He'd think it was some twisted, perverse form of bonding," Chuck said, his voice low and annoyed. Chuck didn't tend to show outward anger, much like his dad. He took it all in, only appearing mildly annoyed. And suddenly, as he took another gulp of his scotch, something came to mind. He needed a fucking vacation, to do all the things his father hated him doing.
"Nathaniel. Where's the one place where you can step up and be a man?" Chuck said, remembering his fathers words, and twisting them. "I don't know, man," Nate said, completely confused. This caused Chuck to chuckle. Nathaniel was always lost. For being a lawyer, he had to admit, that his best friend wasn't terribly smart. Chuck was definitely the more cunning of the two.
"I'm talking about one place, and one place only, Nathaniel my boy," Chuck said, standing up off the bar stool. "Vegas!" he shouted, causing a couple of drunk guys in the bar to look up. Chuck was always a little louder when he was plastered off of gallons of scotch, ."Booze, Gambling, Drugs…effing hot strippers!" Chuck continued. Chuck stuck out his glass to toast on it.
"A toast, to have the most fucking sinful weekend of your life! It'll make the lost weekends back in high school look like what we did in elementary school!" Chuck said, smirking when his Nathaniel's glass clinked to his.
But little did Nate and Chuck know, that their were two girls, making a similar toast, just three blocks away in a park avenue pent house, and that their paths were about to cross, and change their lives for ever. Viva Las Vegas!