A/N: Wow, I am so embarrassingly new at this whole fanfiction thing. I wasn't sure how to make an author's note on the first chapter =[. I've got it, now! Haha

Anyways, just to give everyone a little background information. This is my first attempt not only at fanfiction, but also pretty much at story writing in general. I've had a constant stream of scenes running in my head for as long as I can remember, but I've never before had the motivation to actually write one down, let alone the confidence to publish it online for thousands (hopefully!) of anonymous readers. So, thank you for taking a chance on my story. I love Blair and Chuck an unhealthy amount and writing about them eases my blood pressure, despite the GG writers' constant attempts to raise it. If you have any opinions, (seriously, any at all) I'd love to hear them.

I am also currently working without a beta reader (since I'm not techie enough to figure out how to get one) so please excuse any grammar/spelling errors. I'm trying my darndest. Happy Reading!

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Gossip Girl Blast

9:15pm EST

Sighted: The Van der Woodsen household taking in a stray. Can it be, Chuck Bass requesting obedience training? He's been one naughty puppy. We can't wait to see if Blair Waldorf can teach an old dog new tricks. XOXO

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Laying under Serena's down comforter, listening to the even sound of her best friend's breathing, Blair thought about how far tonight had deviated from her expectations. Probably, she should have gone back to talk to Chuck, discussed a plan of action, organized the rules of engagement; but even though she knew she'd wake up tomorrow morning with retched bags under eyes from lack of sleep, she couldn't bear any more talk this evening.

She grabbed Serena's silk eye mask off the nightstand, tugged it on, and rolled over. You make me want to be a better man. She attempted to distract herself by imaging that she was Princess Caroline. She smiled happily, before remembering that even the Princess had a tremulous love life. I need you. Blair sighed softly into her pillow. If even the royals were not exempt from heartache, she wondered, what hope was there for the rest of us? On that gloomy musing, she fell fitfully asleep.

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She was sitting at the breakfast bar, alone, munching on strawberries and cream. Serena had left early that morning for Brooklyn. She dipped a particularly luscious piece of the ripe red fruit and swirled it carefully, making sure to apply an even coat. She was much more concerned with the appearance of her breakfast than actually consuming it. She had just lifted the berry to her mouth when a familiar male presence made himself known behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist and sweeping in over her shoulder to steal the morsel between his lips, his tongue brushing lightly against her fingers in the process.

"You jerk!" she reprimanded, spinning on her stool to face him. He was smiling devilishly, and before she could work herself into a real tizzy, he muffled her protests with a scorching kiss. Her body responded immediately to his familiar taste.

Oh, yes, she thought, her mind hazy with pleasure. It had been too long since they'd been like this: lightheaded and breathless. Except, no! This was wrong. She pulled back, and he looked sullen.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I should think that was rather obvious," he said grasping her face in his hands and kissing her forcefully.

She was angry and confused and surprised and…there were very few things in life as wonderful as being kissed by Chuck Bass: diamonds (really, really big ones), custom made clothing, Godiva chocolates, and…who did she think she was kidding? She'd have traded any of those things in an instant to stay exactly like this for the rest of her life being kissed in a way that felt like melting.

"I love you, Blair," he murmured as he moved his kisses to the hollow at the base of her neck. There was no use fighting it. She could punish him later.

"Blair…" he moaned against her ear and she felt her whole body shiver in response.

He moved his hands to her shoulders and with his thumbs, slipped the loose fabric of her nightgown to the side, his fingertips searing against her skin, and then there was only the wanting. His mouth on her skin, a heat, a pressure, a silent promise of what was to come, and she was rising up to meet it.

"Blair…" he whispered along her collarbone as she wrapped her legs urgently around his waist.

"Please…" she whimpered. This temptation was too much to take. She knew every inch of Chuck Bass and at this moment there was far too much clothing between them.

"Blair…"

"Please…"

"BLAIR!" Serena was shaking her best friend none too gently. "It's 10:45, time to wake-up, sleepy head. This was left outside the door."

Blair pouted and wished herself back asleep. When it didn't work, she wondered whose idea of a sick joke this was. She perched on her elbows and flipped her eye mask up to rest along her hairline. She scowled at Serena and the folded piece of stationary she was holding.

"Bad dream?" Serena questioned innocently, trying not to offend the monster that looked remarkably like a cute brunette she used to know.

"Something like that." She reached for the paper.

Blair, the outside read in all-too-familiar script. The last time she'd received a note from Chuck Bass, she'd been abandoned. Awesome, she thought, it just keeps on getting better.

The inside read:

I'm sure you've got questions. Let's do brunch at the Four Seasons, 11:30. The strategy: devise and conquer.

See you soon,

---C.

Serena had been watching her read. The blonde managed to look concerned even in lacy La Perla sleepwear.

"Good news or bad news?"

"It's Chuck. Who knows?" Blair said, climbing out of bed and heading for the shower. Just because she had sworn off romance didn't mean she couldn't make sure all of the eligible bachelors realized just how desirable she was, and so what if Chuck Bass was among them. She merely wanted to test his resolve. After all, a cardinal rule of gentlemanly behavior is "look, but don't touch". As she massaged shampoo into her scalp, Blair imagined walking in at 11:45 (fashionably late) in something sinful of Serena's, and smiled.

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Gossip Girl Blast

11:38 am EST

Spotted: Blair Waldorf looking scrumptious in a sky blue sundress exiting the Palace and heading for brunch. We can't be sure of what's on today's menu, but we're willing to bet that Chuck Bass will be eating his heart out. Careful B, vengeance is a dish best served cold.

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Her watch read 11:47 pm as Blair entered the Four Seasons.

Perfect, she thought happily, imagining the flawless arrival she had planned. Chuck would be waiting for her, agitated, sitting at their table in the corner. He'd glance up as she strolled inside looking windswept and carefree. Chuck would blanch at her natural beauty and grace, suddenly overcome by his unbearably strong feelings for her. How sad he would be that she had sworn off romance. If only I had acted sooner, he'd think miserably. He'd stand up then, confess his undying love for her and sweep her into his arms. "But, wait!" she'd protest prettily, except that his eyes would be filled with such longing that she would acquiesce with an, "Oh, alright," and they'd live happily ever after.

Show time! She glided up to the maitre d'.

"Ms. Waldorf," he greeted her. "Well, don't you look lovely!"

"Merci, Henri," she smiled. "I'm meeting Chuck Bass."

"Ah, yes. Right this way, Mr. Bass should be here shortly. He asked me to escort you to the table."

Blair followed the polite Frenchman with a frown. Leave it to Chuck to ruin her entrance.

She had been seated for less than five minutes when he slid into place at the table. Over her menu, she watched him take in her outfit. She noted with satisfaction that, despite his best efforts, his jaw tightened and his eyes flashed.

"You said 11:30," she charged, annoyed at him for making her wait.

"I knew you'd be late," he responded, picking up his menu at the same time and smirking for having bested her.

A tuxedoed waiter approached them.

"May I take your drink order?"

"I'll have a scotch."

"Like hell you will," Blair whispered angrily, leaning over the table and unknowingly treating Chuck to a tempting view of her cleavage. "We'll take two lattes and a bottle of Pellegrino, please".

"I want a scotch," Chuck shot back, arching towards her and mimicking her tone of voice.

Blair smiled at the uncomfortable waiter. "That's too bad," she grit out at her dining companion. "You asked for my help and you're getting it. Nice, responsible, future-CEO's don't consume alcohol, in public, before noon." Shifting her gaze back to the server she said sweetly, "We've discussed it. You can go."

He looked grateful for an excuse to leave them.

Chuck was particularly handsome this morning, Blair decided, in his navy cashmere sweater paired with faded khaki trousers. She noticed that, in comparison to the volume of his usual attire, this morning's ensemble was visibly turned down. When the waiter returned to place a steaming coffee in front of him, he looked despondent.

She was not sympathetic.

"You'd better get used to it. Your new regime includes only legal stimulants. I suggest you make friends with caffeine." As she spoke she pulled a planner from her butter cream tote and flipped it open.

Chuck took one look at her notebook before breaking into a grin.

"You look like Nancy Drew".

"And you look like Marlon Brando," she responded mockingly as she reached over to smooth a piece of his hair back.

In the middle of the crowded restaurant, the gesture was surprisingly intimate. Both aware of the sudden change in atmosphere, Blair dropped her hand back into her lap and Chuck cleared his throat.

"Tell me, Waldorf," he said smoothly, regaining his composure, "What other rules have you got listed in that book of yours? No fun, merriment or joy or any kind?" he suggested.

"Close." She offered him a tight-lipped smile and rolled her eyes. "I took the opportunity, on the car ride over, to draw up a little schedule. In three months you'll turn eighteen and meet with the board for an appraisal. The first month will be the hardest. The first thing you need to do is abandon your vices. They're what landed you in this situation in the first place. It takes thirty days to break a habit, so for four weeks you will abstain from booze, drugs, and…" she looked down uncomfortably, "…sex".

When she finally raised her eyes to gauge his reaction, his mouth was still hanging slightly open.

"An entire month?" he gaped incredulously. "Impossible," he scoffed. "I'm worried about lasting through brunch, and your suggesting I go cold turkey until March? It can't be done."

"Fine," she shrugged, moving to pack up her things. "Enjoy floundering as Bass Industries pretty front man while Uncle Jack sits at the helm. Ninety days is nothing, I'm sure he won't mind bidding his time".

"Jesus," he was running his hands through his hair. "Read me the rest of the God damn list".

She reassumed her sit and continued, "You'll need to improve upon both your attendance and academic records at school…"

He nodded.

"…be seen completing some kind of community service."

He looked skeptical.

"You want to improve your image, right? Well the board, and your investors for that matter, need to believe that you care about someone other than yourself." She'd been following the column with her finger as she scrolled to the last item she gave a little laugh. "It wouldn't hurt you to take up a more respectable form of recreation. Maybe tennis? Or golf?" she offered.

He groaned.

"That should take care of phase one."

"What's phase two?" he questioned.

"I don't want to scare you," she answered truthfully, biting her lip.

He gulped slightly but didn't inquire further.

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They spent the remainder of the brunch in a kind of limbo, making small talk and letting awkward silences fill with all the things they couldn't say to one another. Once they had finished the meal, Chuck suggested they share something from the bakery. Initially, Blair declined, but when he promised she could choose their dessert from the display case she conceded gleefully.

"I'll be right back" she assured, getting up and skipping playfully toward the display, turning around to grin at him as she went.

It was moments like these, when she had no idea how beautiful she was, that Chuck wanted her most. He watched as she peered into the revolving glass case, surveying her choices. After a moment a tall blonde guy strolled up and placed a hand on her upper arm as he addressed her. Chuck fumed at their contact. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

"I'm Luke Young," the preppy college guy was saying as he took Blair's hand in his.

"Blair Waldorf," she introduced herself politely. Her mind recognized that he was handsome with perfect teeth, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd been attracted to a man other than Chuck. He had corrupted her, in more ways than one, that was for sure. That's why abandoning her quest for true love had seemed so simple. She only had one real obstacle, an obstacle that she noticed, when she glanced over at him, was glaring in her direction. What was his problem? When she turned back around, College guy was staring at her expectantly. Had he asked her a question?

"I'm sorry," she smiled in apology, "What was that?"

"I asked if you were here with your boyfriend," he flashed his pearly whites.

Back at the table, Chuck was sure steam was about to explode from his ears. That creep was touching her again. Taking advantage of her manners by taking her hand in his for a handshake Chuck felt was far from casual. He didn't even notice Blair turning to look at him, he was too busy glaring daggers at Ralph Lauren. Then she was smiling at him! Chuck debated going over there but before he had settled on an opening line, he watched Blair accept a cocktail napkin from the guy and head back for the table.

"Oh, him?" Blair asked gesturing to Chuck. Luke nodded. "Oh, God no. He's not my…I mean were not…No. The answer to your question is no," she gave a weak little laugh.

"Great. Here's my number. Give me a call sometime, anytime. I'd love to take you out for a non-platonic meal," and then he was thrusting a napkin in her hand and walking away. Oh well, she thought, maybe she'd give the number to Serena when things went down the tubes again with Dan Humphrey. She headed back to the table.

"The chocolate devil's food cake looks good," she suggested to Chuck.

"I thought you weren't looking for a relationship," he said, both his eyes and tone accusatory.

"What?" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Oh, that guy? I'm not, he just---"

"Nice to see you waited all of twelve hours," he cut her off.

"Excuse me," Blair started, annoyed. "I wasn't even---"

"He's totally wrong for you" he told her, crossing his arms across his chest. "Guys like that are only after one thing." His voice was venomous.

"And what, exactly, might that be?" Blair raised her eyebrows. He didn't answer.

"You are unbelievable," she shook her head. "For your information, I had no intentions of going out with that guy, and I may have sworn of romance, but I never said anything about sex. Thanks to you I've learned those two things are not mutually exclusive. Maybe I will give him a call."

He scoffed. "Give me a break. You're incapable of casual sex. You'd always be looking for the fairy tale. It doesn't work that way."

"There's a first time for everything".

"You've got an itch you need scratched?" He asked incredulously, his insides contracting when she shrugged as if to say, Maybe I do. "Fine," he spat. "but not him."

"I happen to find him very attractive" she lied.

"You won't find what you're looking with Skippy over there. He doesn't know you like I do". Chuck leered.

"You're right," Blair purred, and watched as his eyes lit up. "It's too bad you'll be out of commission for thirty days".

He exhaled loudly, having forgotten about the stupid schedule. "I'll make you a deal."

"I'm through making deals with you, Bass," she promised.

"You said you wanted to help me. Well, we both know I'd be much less likely to fall off the wagon if there were some sort of incentive waiting for me at the finish line." He didn't think she'd go for it. Not when he'd burned her so many times in the past, but he couldn't help hoping. It didn't matter how many women he'd been with. It was never the same as when he was with Blair.

She knew exactly what he was proposing. They had come to similar arrangements before, when the stakes were lower. Blair may have sworn off men, but the only man she truly needed to escape was propositioning over bacon and eggs.

This leering, smooth talking Chuck was the one she remembered, but something was different about this time. There was vulnerability, and a desperation, behind his words she'd never felt before. I need you to help me. I won't be able to do it without you. She thought back to last night, when she and Serena had climbed into bed and the lights were off.

Her best friend had turned to her, "It's that feeling you get, in the pit of your stomach, when the phone rings and you run to grab it, and you think to yourself, I shouldn't be running, I should be strolling gracefully, not caring who it is, but you do, you really care, because you want it to be him, and it doesn't matter how many times it isn't, because that one time it is, he says exactly what you've been waiting to hear".

She knew what she was risking. She knew she wouldn't come out of this wager in one piece, but at the same time, she knew she'd agree, because she still believed he was worth it. Besides, her world right now was far from perfect.

That's the trouble with longing, when your heart is broken, you tend to notice the cracks in everything else.

"You've got yourself a deal. I'll see you tomorrow, Chuck." She gathered her things "Bright and early for school," she reminded him with a smile.

"What about your cake?" he asked. He couldn't believe what she'd just agreed to, and now she was leaving?

"Oh, yeah," she said distractedly, still walking away from the table. "I forgot about this thing I have to do. Rain check?" she asked, and he could see her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Count on it" he answered, but she was too far away to hear.

Chuck gestured for the waiter. He needed the check, tomorrow was going to be interesting, to say the least, and there were a few things he needed to purchase in preparation.

As he exited the Four Seasons, Chuck Bass realized that for the first time, in a long time, he was looking forward to something. He smiled as he slid into his limo.

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