BEST LAID PLANS
Summary: Victrola wasn't the first business plan that Chuck Bass presented to his father. When Bart tears his fifteen-year-old son down, Blair Waldorf is the only one who can build his confidence back up... even though she's only his best friend's girlfriend. Pre-canon NJBC fic for Maryl's birthday.
(NOTE: I realize that, thanks to 1x09, this fic departs from canon. This fic operates from the assumption that the Shepherd wedding happened in the late summer before NJBC's sophomore year of high school, and the Waldorfs' public scandal and divorce hadn't happened yet. For more info, please refer to my Author's Note at the end.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Gossip Girl universe, not even (sadly) Chuck or Nate. Major props to Cecily von Ziegesar, the CW, the producers, actors, and crew, and everyone involved with bringing these amazing characters to life.
Late October 2006.
"But why would you want to invite grownups to a Halloween party?" Blair said disdainfully, wrinkling her nose as the wind blew leaves from the park down the sidewalk. "What kind of fun is that?"
There was a pause, then a voice as familiar to her as her own rumbled through her cold flip phone. "Keep up, Waldorf. It's not about fun, it's about showing the Upper East Side what we know very well... that I can plan one hell of a party."
"Hm. Two successful Lost Weekends doesn't a successful host make, Bass. You must earn your place in society." From her voice, Blair made it clear that she didn't really think that her boyfriend's best friend was quite there yet.
Chuck snorted. "I don't care about fucking society..."
"Oh, I beg to differ, judging from the revolving door that your suite has become," Blair cooed. "It's actually quite disgusting to witness. Apparently good taste and good breeding aren't always found in the same person."
"The Virgin Queen has spoken," he said sarcastically.
"I have indeed. So why would I risk my reputation to join forces with the likes of you?"
As she walked along, Blair had been paying little attention to traffic. All of a sudden, her back started to prickle, and she turned around... Chuck's limo was just a few feet behind her. How long had he been peering out of the window, oddly-shaped eyes observing her?
"Because... I have a business proposition for you." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Ugh, Bass, you are a pig," said Blair, walking over to the limo.
"Not that kind of business proposition," he amended quickly, "although, I would have no objections to what you referred to and more. What Nathaniel doesn't know won't hurt him."
"Bass, I will hurt you. Now, stop playing around and let me in so I can hear this latest nonsense."
Chuck opened the door, and then slid over. He eyed Blair carefully, critically.
"Were you on your way somewhere?"
"I'm supposed to be meeting Nate at 3. We're going to study together."
"Have you had lunch?"
An uncomfortable silence passed between the two of them. Neither spoke about what they both knew Chuck knew all about... that Nate didn't know.
"Um... I had a big breakfast?"
"Waldorf, don't start," Chuck growled impatiently. He pushed the intercom and said, "Arthur, take us to Café d'Alsace."
"Yes, sir," said the trusted driver.
Blair was frowning. "Ugh, how am I supposed to stomach fake French food, Bass? My mom and dad took their friend Roman there, and he laughed through every course."
"They have good bouillabaisse."
"I'm just getting over a cold, my stomach's queasy."
"Fine, then you watch me eat while I talk about my idea."
"Who wants to watch you eat, Bass? You talk with your mouth full!"
He didn't deny it. "Then you eat while I talk..."
"Like I said, I'm still full from breakfast," said Blair, not willing to meet his eyes. "But I suppose I could pick at a salad Niçoise if it's not too unpalatably greasy... like whatever whale blubber product you've been using on your hair lately."
"It's imported."
"It reeks."
"It has no smell," Chuck insisted. "What are you saying, Waldorf? You're noticing my natural musk?"
Blair shuddered, rolling her eyes.
"Just shut up til we get there."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
"So this isn't just a party," Blair said slowly, spearing a haricot thoughtfully. "You're going to start your own company?"
Chuck sat back in his seat, smirking with pride. "Yes."
"But you're only fifteen," protested Blair. "No one does that!"
"Then I'll be the first," Chuck said stubbornly. "Bass Events, LLC. It's perfect. I've been around hotels all my life, and I know what goes into throwing a good party. If I have a good night on Halloween, the old man signs off on it, I can say goodbye to St. Jude's and get tutored while I become my own boss."
Blair blinked. "Ah, I knew there was a catch. Chuck, are you doing all this just so you don't have to go to school? You'd get better grades if you applied yourself, you always got the best test scores back when we were younger... second to mine, of course..."
"I hate school," he said, cutting her off. "It's pointless, the teachers are stupid, and the kids act like sheep. That is why you can control them so easily."
"Well, we did take down the former Queen," Blair said, smiling, then her eyes and mouth opening as he took her fork out of her hand and ate its contents himself. "Ew, Bass!" she said, snatching back her fork and slapping his forearm. "My silverware's contaminated!"
"You've been playing with that bite for five minutes," he said. "I figured you weren't hungry."
In response, Blair speared some greens and shoved them into her mouth. "Go on," she said, finally eating.
"This party has to be more than a Halloween party. It has to be an experience. So I've hired some circus performers to do a high wire trapeze act, stilt walkers, and the finale will be... well, you'll see."
"Attire?"
"Costume. The more elaborate, the better."
"Menu?"
"Still deciding, the tasting's tonight in my suite. You and Nate are invited of course."
"The highlight of the evening?"
Smirk. "Indoor pyrotechnics. Among other things."
"Chuck..."
"Like I said, Waldorf, you'll see."
Blair shook her head. "Your dad will kill you if the Palace's grand ballroom gets damaged by any of this."
"It won't. People are going to be talking about this party for the rest of the season. When I make Page Six, I'm hoping he'll give me the go-ahead for this little venture of mine."
Blair looked at him, then down at her salad (she'd eaten about a third of it, and didn't seem as if she wanted to gag).
"Why, Bass, I do think you've got a viable idea on your hands. Who would've thought?"
And Chuck's smirk became a real smile.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Getting ready for Chuck's big party wasn't as nice without Serena around, Blair decided. Her best friend's abrupt leavetaking was the most awful thing that had ever happened to her. She didn't know what happened. All she remembered was not being able to find Nate, who was her date to the Shepherd wedding, at all after dinner. Serena was nowhere to be found as well, although Kati and Is said that they'd seen her in the bathroom just before the cake was cut.
She felt so... so inadequate that night. Blair had always loved weddings, loved the romance of it all, and during the ceremony had tried to catch Nate's eye. But Nate seemed preoccupied. His gaze stayed fixed ahead. Serena also seemed unusually restless, but that was nothing new. (Blair worried that she might be using again... after empty promises to stay away from Georgina Sparks, she feared Serena had hooked up with the crazy, scary girl again.)
Nate hadn't said a word about her dress, which she'd chosen so carefully for him. It was a beautiful, shimmery light blue that she thought looked lovely in the dressing room. But he seemed oblivious.
Of course, Chuck had noticed. Much to Blair's chagrin, he'd done that weird ESP thing where they actually matched somehow. It was infuriating. She'd call or text Nate with the details of an outfit, Nate would forget, but somehow Chuck's bowtie, or his ascot, or his pocket square would match her exactly. The Shepherd wedding was one of those times... maybe it was because they were both brunettes, and certain shades flattered them best?
She had noticed that his bowtie matched her dress when she stepped out of the stall...
"BASS!" she screamed, but her voice was hoarse and scratchy, as she hadn't yet rinsed out her mouth. "This is the ladies' room!"
"So what? I've locked the door," he said. "Told the attendant to get lost... Waldorf, what the hell are you doing to yourself?"
"I... haven't been feeling well lately," she murmured, going to the sink and grabbing a paper cup to fill with water. "I think I'm coming down with something..."
"You've been coming down with something since eighth grade."
Blair couldn't look at him. "Nice of you to notice something that isn't wearing Agent Provocateur or labeled '100 Proof,' Chuck." She took a swig of the water, then swished it around her mouth.
"You don't need to do it," he said quietly.
She spat, then grabbed one of the soft paper towels from a basket to dab at her mouth. There was no way that she'd let Nate see her rinse her mouth or perform any other bodily functions, but this was just Chuck. Who cared?
"How do you know what I need? You can't even manage your own life."
"This is not about me, it's about you..."
But she was now pointedly ignoring him. She chose a lipstick and began tracing the red stick of Chanel over her bow-shaped mouth, tuning him out, going back into her own little perfect world, relegating him to the margins of it...
So he grabbed her arm, turned her to face him, and shook her a couple of times.
"How dare you?" Blair was infuriated by the invasion of her privacy, her personal space, and her peace of mind. Sometimes Chuck went too far!
"Promise me you're going to stop this," said Chuck, "or I'll make you stop."
She glared at him.
"Does your mother know about this?"
Her glare turned into a defiant shrug. "She's shocked and horrified. I've been seeing a shrink since I was thirteen, but in the end... Eleanor would likely say I could stand to lose a few more."
His hands moved from her bare upper arms to rest on her shoulders.
"And Serena?"
"Yes." It came out as a long, deep breath. "S waits with me sometimes."
Their eyes met, hazel on brown.
"Stop this, or I'm telling Gossip Girl what you do in these bathrooms after your meals."
Gasp. "You wouldn't!"
"I will, Waldorf. You know I will." He let her go. "Come on, I'll take you home."
Her chin lifted. "I came with Nate, I'm leaving with Nate."
"Nate? He was just... he told me to tell you he had a headache, so he went home."
"A headache? He was acting weird at dinner, but he said he was fine. Have you seen Serena?"
A shadow crossed Chuck's face, but Blair blinked, and it was gone. "She left, too."
"Why am I not surprised? Once again, Bass, it's just me and you. Oh, joy."
A feminine voice interrupted Blair's reminiscing. She pulled off the cold mask she'd been wearing as the pedicurist worked on her feet, frowning.
"Blair, it's Nate for you," said Kati. When the queen bee frowned and blinked, her minion repeated, "Nate. Your boyfriend?"
Now, that registered. "Where?" asked Blair, jerking her head this way and that. She was extremely careful about how and when Nate saw her. She always wanted to be at her best for him.
"Downstairs, in the foyer. Dorota just announced him," said Is.
Blair gathered her wits and looked disdainfully at the girls surrounding her.
"Then what are you waiting for? I have to be perfect."
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Looking in the mirror and straightening his orange paisley bowtie (in honor of Halloween, of course), Chuck Bass realized that he had a slight problem.
Instead of being best friends (and perhaps caring about) only one person in the world, he actually gave a shit about two.
He'd always considered Blair and Serena to be his friends. They were the only girls on the Upper East Side who didn't treat him as a pariah or a predator, who weren't intimidated by his dad's wealth, or his lewd demeanor. For those two, he was just Chuck – slightly disgusting, but someone who they'd always known, someone who was just a cut above the other kids on the Upper East Side, just like they all were.
Serena, before her sudden leavetaking, had run in the same circles of older kids as Chuck did. Since seventh and eighth grade, they'd partied, her with Georgina, him with Carter Baizen before he graduated (and occasionally, Nate), often ending up in the same locations. Although Serena made it clear that she thought Chuck was disgusting, and Chuck would make veiled remarks about her virtue (actually, her lack of it), they did keep a veiled eye on each other when things got too wild.
Blair and Nate weren't like that. The proper princess and the golden boy? Never. Now, Chuck secretly held them up as an ideal even as he was cynical about their views of the world. Even more secretly, he envied Nate for having a girl like Blair... a girl he was willing to wait for, willing to be a better person for.
Of course, he, Chuck would never want to be tied down by one girl like that. Oh, definitely not. But Blair was quite a girl. She was the total package – incredibly beautiful, incredibly smart, and even had a wicked wit. Of course, she was also too fucking uptight, and would be incredibly dull in bed whenever she did get around to losing her cherry to Nathaniel... dull, cold, and unresponsive just like any other proper society matron. So nah, he'd didn't envy his best friend too much.
Besides, Nate seemed to be relieved whenever he heard Blair had been with Chuck lately. "Oh, great, man. I was wondering why she wasn't calling... the guys and I had a pick-up game in the park, you know, the one I texted you about... and you know how she can be if she thinks I'm ignoring her."
Chuck didn't get it. He thought that if he ever had a girlfriend, which he never would, he'd actually want to spend a little time with her.
He enjoyed spending time with Blair. Always had. She wasn't like the other girls at school, or any other girl he'd met. Never had he seen such a thirst for power and control in one small (incredibly cute) teenaged girl. It was fascinating to witness. In turn, Chuck knew that Blair, who was incredibly dismissive of most kids, saw him differently than the minions, Serena, and even Nate.
She was always there for him, ever since he could remember. When his father was distant and cold, and Nate was oblivious and Serena didn't care, Blair always knew. Somehow, her offhand remark about it ("He's just stressed" or "You didn't deserve that") would make him feel better even if he said something cutting or insulted her in response. She also was the only one who always remembered his birthday, every year, and even though he'd glare at her when she'd say it (or lately, have a token gift sent to Suite 1812 for the occasion), he didn't exactly mind it because it was her.
Blair was the reason he didn't dismiss all members of the fairer sex as only good for one thing (that she had no experience doing, and was destined to be incredibly bad at, he told himself). Although he'd never tell her, although he'd never admit it...
She was his friend. She was his friend in a different way than Serena was, and lately, she was becoming as important to him as Nate. Thinking back to the frantic planning for the evening, and how great she'd been from the menu to the décor, he was glad.
Suddenly, he couldn't wait to see her. Maybe he'd see if she and her entourage wanted a ride in his limo. If she did, the next call would be to the Palace bartender, to put a bottle of Dom on ice for Arthur's pickup. He'd swing by the Waldorfs' penthouse, then over to the Archibalds' townhouse.
Reaching for his cell phone, he found her name in his contacts, and called.
"Hey, Chuck!"
The voice wasn't hers, but it was very familiar. "Hey, man," said Chuck. "You and Blair together?"
"Yeah, we're on our way to the Palace," Nate replied. "What's up? Did you need something for the party? I can put her on..."
"Not at all," said Chuck, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest. He was so used to disappointment that it didn't even register as anything more than annoyance. "I'll just see you when you get he..."
But Nate was thickheaded as usual and had already handed Blair the phone. "Bass," she chirped, "can't you keep things together until I arrive? What is it now?"
"I..." He trailed off, not wanting her to know that he just called her to talk and perhaps hang out earlier than anticipated. "I don't know if the DJ is here, he isn't answering any of my calls. Care to try him yourself?"
Blair let out a long sound of exasperation, which indicated that she was incredibly pleased to be seen as essential. "I suppose I can rescue you this time, Bass. But just know that I'm going to be sending Bass Events an invoice."
"Oh, will you? Since when does Blair Waldorf nickel and dime like a prole?"
"Since Chuck Bass decided to treat me like a common consultant," she said, "then the great Chuck Bass ought to pay me as one."
"There's nothing common about the Queen of Constance," he returned. "We are in your debt. Your services are beyond price..."
"Get off the phone, Bass," giggled Blair. "I'll check on the music. And don't worry, wait till Bart sees all this. The Upper East Side will be talking about this party for months to come."
XOXOXOXOXOXO
And they did. Of all the parties that the members of the Non-Judging Breakfast Club threw, or would ever throw, throughout their entire lives, Chuck's 2006 Halloween bash was the only one that went off without a hitch. It was, as he'd hoped, written up on Page Six, in New York and The New Yorker and other places besides. Gossip Girl, try as she might, couldn't find a bad thing to say about it.
People's costumes were divine. The elite and their trust fund brats outdid themselves trying to come up with the best concepts. There was nothing trashy or slutty or corny about any of it... the city's best stylists proudly showcased their ideas. The masks were fabulous; the makeup, professional.
The menu was exquisite. From the appetizers to the desserts, to the special lychee saketinis Blair had decided needed to be featured, partygoers nibbled and sipped, feasted and drank. The city's top food critics, already having photographed the various plates, could be heard raving about "the new Palace menu" as a "must-visit place this fall."
The choice not to have live music in favor of featuring Halloween-appropriate costumed performances was inspired. There was never a moment during the party where people had to stop and focus their attention on a central spot. Instead there were many points of focus – an act being done inside a wire globe, a handwalker on stilts, and a team of contortionists. It was quite a lot like being in the Cirque du Soleil, instead of just watching it. But there was music for those who wanted to dance, too.
It wasn't until one in the morning when the last of the partygoers were leaving that Blair and Nate found Chuck again. A set of blonde, busty twins were clinging to either side of him as he flashed a wolfish grin.
"Ladies, a moment?" The girls moved aside as he walked up to his friends.
"Man, this was some party!" said Nate. "I thought it was going to be a drag with everyone's parents around, but it was fun! Everyone's going to be talking about it!"
"That's the idea," said Chuck. "As long as people had a good time... and understand that I can create the same kind of experience, even if on a penthouse-sized scale, for their events."
Blair looked appraisingly at him. "I'd say you pulled it off."
"We pulled it off. Still sending that invoice in the mail?"
Their eyes locked. Her smile was genuine. So was the look in his eyes.
"I'll bill you later, Bass."
"Wouldn't expect anything less from you, princess," he said.
Nate grinned. "Man, I'll check in with you later, after I drop Blair off... text me when it's safe to come up to the suite tomorrow."
"Sure thing, Nathaniel," he said. "We'll all celebrate when the old man gives me what I want."
"He'll have to go for it," Blair said, her mouth parting in a yawn. You've just generated a ton of free publicity for the company, I'm sure he's pleased."
"Yeah, well, you know my father," said Chuck, face becoming unreadable, closed off. "He couldn't even cut his business trip to Dubai short to see what I did tonight."
Blair leaned into Nate, whose arm tightened around her. "Tomorrow is another day, Bass," she said sleepily.
"Right you are," he said, eyes registering their embrace, face still expressionless. "Until then, I have my own reward waiting for me by the elevators."
Nate laughed and Blair wrinkled her nose. "Yuck, bye."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Two mornings later was Monday, but there was no school because of a teacher retreat. So Blair was annoyed when her alarm rang... she'd forgotten and had set it anyway. Well, she was tired, and much to her annoyance and alarm, hungry. Because she'd eaten so much at Chuck's party, the only calories she'd allowed herself on Sunday were a bone-dry cappuccino for breakfast, a few bites of parfait at lunch, and ten strawberries for dinner. Now she was starving. Perhaps a half glass of vanilla soy milk would do the trick.
Slipping into her favorite sheer white robe, Blair padded down the stairs on bare feet and was greeted by a strange sight. Her mother was nowhere to be seen... she'd headed to Paris on a red-eye flight right after Chuck's party (which inexplicably, she'd been proud that Eleanor had been there to witness... when she said that "maybe that Bass boy won't be a complete disaster after all," Blair had secretly been glad that her judgmental mother couldn't find something bad to say about her friend for a change).
So it was weird to see her mother's model friend Roman, and her father Harold, standing in the foyer, talking in low tones... with her father's hands on Roman's shoulders. She almost ran down the stairs, wanting to ask if there was something wrong with her mom, but something told her to hold back.
Blair stood there, transfixed, witnessing their exchange. She couldn't hear their conversation because they were talking so low. But their body language was weird. Blair never thought that her dad and Roman were good friends... her dad was a high-powered lawyer and Roman was in the fashion world, with her mother. What did they have in common?
But the weirdest thing of all was that Roman gently kissed her father's cheek. Now, Blair knew Roman was French, had been to France countless times, and was nearly fluent in the language herself. She'd received dozens of kisses from Frenchmen, many of them from Roman himself, who found his friends' daughter delightful.
But at no time when Blair received those kisses did she shiver... or close her eyes.
Yet that's what her father did. And when Roman moved past him and went into the elevator, her father's gaze followed him... and then Harold followed him into the elevator.
Blair didn't know what to make of it. Maybe there was something going on. She didn't want to think about it...
But suddenly, she wanted to have more than soymilk. Fifteen minutes later, she'd drunk not only a glassful, but had eaten four slices of the apple pie that Dorota had made before her weekend off. Feeling dirty and awful, she made her way upstairs...
"Miss Blair?" It was the weekend maid, who always seemed a bit frightened of her ever since Blair had schemed and gotten her pay docked years ago when the woman gave her mother a less than flattering report.
"What is it?"
"Mr. Nate is here for you. Shall I send him up?"
Blair was horrified. She'd just stuffed herself like a pork roast, and needed to do her usual thing so that she could feel light enough to pull herself together for the day. She needed at least an hour...
"God, no," she said. "Tell him that I..."
But it was too late. "Blair?" said Nate, running to the landing where the maid stood. "Blair! I called you like ten times."
"Sorry, my phone's off," said Blair, thinking that she wanted to throw up. Here was her perfect boyfriend, seeing her bloated, with no makeup, hair likely ratty and awful. She hadn't even showered yet! "Can I see you later? I'm sleeping in..."
"Blair, I need your help," he said. "We've got another Serena incident on our hands."
Instantly, she brightened up. "Serena? She's here?"
"No, not Serena. A Serena incident."
His voice was so ominous that Blair forgot all about her state and ran down the stairs.
Crumpled up in a ball, on the floor of the Waldorf elevator, was Chuck Bass, drunk and high off his ass.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
That time, Blair and Nate really did think Chuck was going to have to be hospitalized and detoxed. But Blair was skilled, and they had all done this for Serena countless times. The thing that frightened them both was that Chuck, as hedonistic as he was, never allowed himself to get to this state. His tolerance was far higher, which meant that the situation was far worse.
It took most of the day before Chuck was back to himself, or could hold a conversation. They had to get food and water into him, purge him, then help him into a bath (well, Nate did that while Blair fetched more coffee), let him sleep it off in her bed while they studied together downstairs, then repeat the cycle. By early evening, Chuck was finally back to himself (although Blair kept wanting to ladle more Gatorade down his throat... electrolytes, she told herself, trying not to panic, because he'd be alright...).
"Man, what happened?" Nate finally asked. "You scared the living crap out of me. This time, I thought you'd finally OD'ed!"
Blair's expression was one of pure concern. "Did those... those skanks give you some bad stuff? What have I told you about the quality of the company you keep, Bass?"
"I... it wasn't them. It was me. I wanted to just... forget."
Nate shook his head. Blair was horrified.
"And you didn't think about what that would do to your father? You're his only child!"
"Yeah? My father isn't like yours! He doesn't give a fuck about me. He never did." Chuck wasn't yelling, he wasn't whispering, either. But his flat, dull tone was even more chilling.
"He didn't like the party." Blair looked as if she was near tears.
"He didn't just dislike it, he said I brought disgrace to the Bass name. Made a fine hotel into a circus. Said the party trashed the place, that I wasted hundreds of thousands of dollars in a garish display of vanity... during a weekend when my fucking chemistry teacher emails him to let him know that I'm failing." Chuck took a deep, choking breath. "Says that he's going to take the money out of my trust fund, that I'm never to do anything of the kind again, and if I don't shape the hell up, he's going to send my... how did he put it?... urban dandy ass to military school so they can make a real man out of me."
Blair's mouth dropped open. She seemed at a loss for words.
Nate was still shaking his head. "Man, all of our parents suck," he said flatly. "We established that little fact like, way back in fourth grade. Who cares what Bart thinks? As long as he doesn't cut you off, screw him..."
But Blair's response wasn't in words. She scrambled over to the side of the bed where he sat, head in his hands. Wrapped her little arms around him, laid her head on his shoulder, and squeezed tight.
Chuck closed his eyes, surprised by the sudden warmth after not feeling anything for what felt like a very long, long time. The girl always smelled expensive, but for once, he didn't smell anything except her... it was definitely the first time she hadn't showered and he'd been around. There was a slight whiff of deodorant, but nothing else save for her. But there was nothing offensive about her in the slightest. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he had caught the scent of the real Blair. In spite of his feelings of worthlessness, it intrigued him... because he liked it.
Actually, he could have stayed there forever. Just like that, with her arms around him... with Nate looking on, or not. (Although since Nate was standing there, he wouldn't hug her back. Because that would be just... weird. And besides, Chuck Bass didn't do hugs.)
Nevertheless, he left it alone for a moment more, as long as he could bear. Then he pushed her off, but gently. Shrugged.
"Fuck him," said Chuck. "I don't care what he thinks. As soon as I'm eighteen, I'm going to be my own boss."
"After college, right?" said Blair. "We're all going to Yale..."
"No, I'm not," snapped Nate. "Anywhere but there."
"I'm not either," said Chuck. "I don't want to go to college. I'm sick of school now, I'm not signing up for more of it."
Blair shook her head. Normally she would have begun railing at how irresponsible they both were, but she didn't. Instead, she shrugged in defeat.
"I have no idea what I'm going to do with the two of you." It was a statement left over from the days when there had been three of them... and was better suited for those days. Nonetheless, it was there, dusted off like the well-worn Blairism that it was.
Well, soon, she only had to deal with one of them, because Nate's mother insisted that he come to dinner with her, the Captain, and "two of your father's important clients." So, dutiful son that he was, Nate was off, leaving Blair and Chuck in her bedroom alone, watching Roman Holiday.
They lounged together on the bed in silence for a while, Blair watching the movie, while Chuck, swimming in one of her dad's undershirts, a pair of Harold's jogging pants, but his own varicolored argyle socks, was totally distracted. He couldn't figure out why he couldn't get comfortable, as he'd been in her room, doing the same thing countless times, with Nate, with Nate and Serena, or any combination of the four.
"Chuck," she said, pausing the movie, "I need to tell you something."
"What?"
"Something I shouldn't."
His eyes darted over to her. "It happened again."
"If you hadn't come in when you did, it would have." Her dark doe eyes flickered. "But when you needed help, I forgot about how... heavy I felt."
He didn't say anything, looked away, was quiet. Then, "What made you want to do it?"
"You're going to think it's silly..."
"Say it, Waldorf."
"My dad's been acting so weird lately. And my mom's friend Roman? He's around a lot, but Mom isn't. I... I think something's going on with her, but they won't tell me." The last bit came out in a whisper. Blair couldn't bear to think of something happening to her mother, especially before she could finally be the girl that Eleanor wanted her to be.
Chuck didn't say what was on his mind. He'd run into Harold Waldorf with Roman while leaving the Palace one day a few weeks before. Usually, he wouldn't think anything of it, but something about their manner made him wonder if...
"Do you want me to call Mike?" Mike was the Basses' private investigator. Chuck had him on speed dial, a fact that amused Nate to no end, but a fact that Blair and Serena found creepy... until they had need of him, that is.
"No. I just needed someone else to know. Nate, he won't understand. Neither would S, if she were here. But you..."
She trailed off. And Blair didn't say anything else.
She didn't have to.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Hours later, the door to Blair's bedroom cracked open. A man's head poked in, then turned around, putting a finger up to his lips. He moved in more, letting the other man come in.
On top of the duvet lay Blair in Chuck's arms. Although the two teens would have never assumed such a position during their waking hours, in sleep, their limbs had naturally intertwined. Yet it wasn't a compromising position, just an incredibly sweet one. Blair was snuggled comfortably on her friend's chest, her leg over his. Chuck's body curved around hers, chin tucked above her head.
Unlike most fathers who caught their teenaged daughters in such a position, Harold Waldorf didn't say a word. He exchanged a glance with Roman, then followed his secret lover out of the room.
Once downstairs in the kitchen, Roman spoke.
"And you say that she's dating that other boy?"
"Since kindergarten."
"If ever there will be a match among those children, chou, it will be her and that Bass boy. I hope you're prepared."
"Oh, I'm not worried about Chuck," said Harold. "He's Nate's best friend, and I don't think he'd do that to him. But if Blair and Nate were no longer dating..."
Roman shook his head. "What kind of father are you?"
Harold shrugged. "Look, I know the kid's reputation. But I've known him and his father since he was born... Chuck's never been like that with her. Besides," Harold cracked a smile, "my Blair-bear can more than handle anything that boy throws at her. My daughter's a lady, and he knows that."
"Mon Dieu, if they ever become anything other than friends, Eleanor will have fits," Roman observed.
"That isn't the only thing she's going to have fits about," said Harold, a teasing note in his voice.
"Well," Roman husked, moving closer, "what Eleanor doesn't know won't hurt her."
Thinking they were alone and unobserved, the two men locked in a passionate embrace, kissing.
What they didn't know is that their intrusion had woken Chuck up. That they'd been followed. And that Chuck was standing in the doorway, having heard their entire conversation... and witnessed the truth of their relationship.
Leaving them, he crept back up to Blair's room, closing and locking the door. At his return, Blair stirred.
"Nate?" she whispered. "How was dinner?"
"Not Nate," said Chuck. "Just me. Go back to sleep."
Blair sighed deeply, then curved her still-clothed body towards him, drifting back into her dreams. Chuck watched her for long moments. Thinking about Nate and Serena... Harold and Roman... and his father's sneering, mocking, disbelieving face.
Then he thought of her, and what her father had said about him.
What did people always say about best laid plans?
And those were his last thoughts before he drifted off himself... sleeping better than he had in a long time.
~the end~
A/N: In canon, Serena doesn't leave til after Thanksgiving '06, which means she missed second semester of the NJBC's sophomore year (2006-2007), not the entire school year. I wanted to ensure enough time post-Serena's leaving so that the rest of the NJBC would have readjusted their friendship around her loss before the start of the fic. I do believe, like many of you, that while Nate was busy dealing with the Serenate hookup aftermath, and his emotions, Chuck and Blair were behind the scenes, growing closer.
Thanks to all of you who read and review all of my stories, not just P&C! It's so encouraging, especially when the storms of real life (literal and figurative) are raging.
And happy birthday to my Chairy godmother, Maryl... it's not humor and it's not smut, but this fic wouldn't have happened without you, my dear. All the best to you always.
XOXO, Dr. Holland