Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to Cecily von Zeigesar and The CW.
Author's Note: This story goes during "The Goodbye Gossip Girl", after the party.
Prologue
I think that they could be
The better half of me
They're in the wrong place trying to make it right
Come Home- OneRepublic
France, Paris, Saint-Germain-des-Prés, Boulevard Saint-Germain, 2015
Her eyes were still closed when she heard someone opening the door of her bedroom.
She immediately covered herself with the blanket, hiding her face.
Normally when a boy slept with her, she snuck out of bed in the early morning to wash her face, put a little bit of powder on her cheeks, and comb her curls.
Then she came back to bed and pretended to be asleep.
That way, when the man next to her would wake up, he would just be there staring at her, enchanted by her unspeakable 'natural beauty'; just like the prince look at the princess in the Snow White or in the Sleeping Beauty fairytales she loved so much.
But that morning she wasn't waiting for anyone, so she wasn't ready to greet anybody.
"Go. Away!" Blair screamed under the silk bedding, knowing there was just one person in the world that was able to baffle her maid. Her soon-to-be-fired maid, that is.
"Bonjour Mademoiselle! I took you breakfast." a happy male voice greeted her, making sure to ignore her morning tantrum. He was so used to it.
"You can leave it on the nightstand and go. NOW!" she muffled , speaking clearly on the last word, and hoping it would be enough to be let alone by the intruder.
"Blair please… This is the last morning we can spend together." He sat at the edge of the bed with the tray still in his hands.
"In the afternoon you will take a flight for New York and I will be having breakfast alone for the next many weeks. I've already seen you just waking up, and you are beautiful. Come on…please!" he was begging now.
"Fine!" she said with a dramatic voice, giving up -but only because he called her beautiful.
So she moved the sheets from her body and took off her night mask.
He greeted her with a kiss.
Blair sat down in the bed and, with her unmistakable royal attitude, pointed for him to open the curtains to let the sun come in. When he kept standing there, with no intention of moving, she rose her eyebrows, giving him what she liked call an 'look of encouragement'.
He immediately understood when he received what he has named the 'brutal Waldorf glare' and stood up.
"I'm sorry for my slow reflex! I'm already useless, thinking you not being here." He sulked while the sunlight enlightened the room.
"Oh you're so sweet…" she offered him her brightest smile, the one she used every time she needed of something, and then she added, "But you'd be even more kind if you gave me your croissant and took my fruit away."
Blair was in the mood for calories today. Maybe it was the anxiety for the flight.
She was still upset about the airline's refusal to give her the pilot's curriculum as good service's guarantee.
"Ok, but can you spell out me again why you have to leave me?" he inquired while he gave her his plate.
"Aaron, my stepbrother, is going to marry a crazy dancer he met in a bar –how gross, by the way- and, even if I barely know him, I have to attend the celebration." She explained, slightly bored about the weird relative.
It was embarrassing to share the family picture with someone who lived in the Village and didn't care about class, money or style.
"And I understand that, but what I don't understand is why you have to leave so early." he remarked bitterly.
"Because my mum asked me to help her with the arrangements. Aaron's mother and the bride-to-be are driving her crazy."
She took a sip of coffee to hide the smile she couldn't keep from forming on her face- just thinking about how funny it will be watching the daily Eleanor meltdowns has her lips turning up.
"Enough with the question." she ordered him pushing her index finger against his chest, realizing he was going to speak again.
She got up and walked towards the closet where un evening gown hung in the middle.
"Talking about more important things: what do you think about this?" she asked, showing him her lastest purchase.
"I was thinking about wearing this dress with Loboutin shoes and a necklace." She added without even looking at him anymore, just observing herself in the mirror with critical eye, considering how she could be like with that outfit.
"Which necklace you were thinking about?"
"This is a black Chanel: it screams for pearls!" she answered like it was the most evident thing in the world.
"Blair, how many times have I told you?" he said then "Your father is gay, your mother is one of the most famous fashion designer ever. You don't need my advices: style is in your DNA!"
She smiled, flattered by the compliment.
"Have I already told you how much I love you today?" she asked playfully.
"Mmm… Not yet!" he answered after a brief moment.
"In that case… I love you, Pierre Couatret!"
***
USA, New York, Manhattan, The Palace, 2015
Chuck Bass took a seat at the bar's counter.
Looking at him there was no sign that could have let people know that he had just spent all his day working.
His tie was perfectly knotted, his shirt stiff, his jacket didn't have even a crease.
His appearance was simply flawless.
If only someone would look at his eyes, then maybe they would catch a dark shadow from exhaustion.
But no one really knew Chuck Bass, and no one cared enough about him to pay attention to details. That, and most people were scared by his imposing and overbearing demeanor.
He gave a simple nod toward the bartender and his glass was instantly filled with the best scotch in the bar, the one reserved for the owner.
Chuck's loneliness was soon interrupted by Nate, who clapped a hand on his back.
"Hey, man!" he greeted him, taking a seat next to his friend. "I was starting to think that you wouldn't come tonight. It's almost ten o'clock!"
Chuck raised one eyebrow and swallowed his drink. Once he placed the glass on the counter, he looked Nate in the eyes and, with the tone of someone who already knows everything about the life, said:
"Unfortunately for me, dear Nathaniel, my job doesn't consist of shaking hands and hugging ugly babies. Not everyone is lucky like you." he concluded bringing the refilled glass on his lips.
Nate laughed at Chuck's idea about his carrier as a politician.
"If you think it's so simple, then why don't you try to gain a chair in Washington?" he mocked him.
Chuck shrugged and pursed his lips, like he was really wondering about what his friend had said.
"Archibald… I'm impressed! You have just done what people call 'sarcasm'. I didn't think you were capable to do such things!"
After a brief moment, he added "Seriously, you know my opinion about the word compromise; losers use it!!"
"Yes, the problem is that and the high number of skeletons hidden in your closet that people could find and use against you!" Nate tried to joke.
But this sentence only gained him a glare from Chuck.
Nonetheless he didn't seem frightened by that because, after all these years of friendship, he learned that this kind of nasty look wasn't really dangerous: it was just his best friend's personal way of letting you know that he was pissed off.
"Come on… stop talking and let's drink." he suggested then, no wanting make his friend really angry.
"You're completely right Nathaniel: let's rest your brain for the rest of the night!" he agreed.
At the fifth round, while Nate started laughing without a real reason, Chuck kept sipping his drinks, one after the other, without giving a sign of drunkenness.
Just as he drained his glass, a hot blond girl got next to the counter and ordered a cosmopolitan. He smirked, because the choice of a blonde was such a womenly cliché, but staring at her long tan legs and at her large collar, he decided that girl's tastes were not important.
So, when she was about to give the bartender her credit card, he laid a hand on her arm and introduced himself.
"Please, let me buy your drink. Such a beautiful woman should never pay for her own cosmopolitan."
He placed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter, just to show her that he really was a rich man.
She looked captivated by his charm, and let his hand stroked her uncovered skin.
Taking that as a positive sign, he went on.
"And, more importantly, I think you should never drink all alone.
Why don't we keep drinking together? In my suite?" he asked with a sexy voice, giving a little smirk in the end.
The young girl, who immediately recognized the richest man of the Upper East Side, was thrilled by the idea of spending the night with the most notorious playboy in New York but, playing the game of seduction perfectly, she didn't agreed immediately.
"And you are?" she asked instead, pretending a shyness that didn't belong to her.
Chuck grinned, because he knew she was already aware of the answer. Everyone knows his name.
He wet his lips and stretched out one hand, enjoying the pleasure of using his favorite line.
"I'm Chuck Bass."