All The Small Things:
Ever since she was barely a teenager, Blair had always spent, whenever possible, the Saturday morning with Serena. They had a precise ritual, which hadn't changed at all over the years; they always met early for breakfast at the same place and then enjoyed a few hours of shopping.
Cherishing traditions was essential to Blair and having respected once again this particular one had left her satisfied and relaxed; by the time she stepped into the foyer of her townhouse, around 11:30, she was in an excellent mood.
"Dorota!" Blair, with a joyful hint in her voice, called the maid out of loud, leaving the door opened behind her to allow the chauffeur, who was taking the bags from the trunk to carry them inside, to follow her. "I'm home!"
A few seconds later Dorota came rushing in from the kitchen's anteroom and approached her. "Miss Blair, did you have a nice morning?" she welcomed her employer, divesting her of her Burberry cashmere coat. "How is Miss Serena?"
"A wonderful one, Dorota, thank you." With a bright smile, Blair removed her scarf and gloves and handed them to the maid, along with her purse. "Serena is okay. Humphrey asked her to move in with him; she's over the moon." The thought made her roll her eyes and she shrugged to get rid of it.
She smiled again. "Chuck isn't up yet, is he?" she asked casually, although she was pretty certain about the answer. She knew her husband was awake. He had texted her repeatedly during the last two hours, complaining about having woken up to an empty bed, but she had a feeling that he was still refusing to get up, waiting for her to keep her word and make it up to him – as the card she had carefully placed on her pillow before leaving promised.
"No," Dorota confirmed Blair's thoughts, as she hanged the coat on the hall-stand. "Valet Ivan brought him breakfast and newspapers, but Mr. Chuck still in bedroom."
"Great," Blair commented cheerfully. Dorota looked back at her straight faced and Blair, who was well aware of the woman's strict theory about how it was inadmissible to stay in bed past 8 am, sighed. "Oh, Dorota, let him be." As if she wanted to hide the tenderness softening her expression, she slightly turned her head to side and looked down, pushing a loosen curl behind her ear. "He'll be away for the next two weeks. He has the right to enjoy some peace."
The idea inevitably saddened Blair. Chuck was leaving the next day for a business trip to Tokyo and she couldn't be less happy about it. Determined not to let that irrational sense of melancholy ruin her perfect morning, she ignored Dorota's silent, judgmental stare and spun around, getting closer to the door to peek outside and see if her driver had finished unloading the outcome of her shopping.
She grinned satisfied at the man making his way up the stairs to the entrance. "Please, just leave them on the console table, Jacque," she instructed him on where to leave the bags once he was inside, knowing that he was used to bring them directly upstairs and that Chuck wouldn't have liked the intrusion. She then dismissed him, informing him that she wasn't going to need him again before Monday morning and that her assistant was going to send him an email with her detailed schedule.
As soon as he left, Blair stepped over to the console table, scanning the shopping bags. Her eyes immediately found the orange one she was looking for. Careful not to crease it, she picked it up and, observing it, an instinctive tiny smile rose on her lips; it had taken her almost an hour inside Hermès to select the perfect tie for Chuck and she couldn't wait to give it to him.
Behind her, Dorota let out a sigh and, although Blair wasn't looking at her, she knew that it had been accompanied by rolling eyes and a head shake. "Is that for Mr. Chuck?"
The question, Blair noticed, was tinged with many sentiments – disapproval and a certain note of resignation above all – but surprise surely wasn't one of them. "Of course it is," Blair replied proudly, as she turned to face her stern looking maid. "I had to get him a present," she then explained in a sweeter, more affectionate tone; she lowered her eyes, unable to stop the corners of her mouth from tilting up in a new, wider smile. "I left him alone all morning."
"What a tragedy," Dorota scoffed, now vigorously shaking her head. "You treat Mr. Chuck like kid," she then uttered, pointing a finger at Blair. "You'll regret spoiling husband when honeymoon phase is over."
Blair's lips slightly parted, as an outraged expression took the place of the warm, loving one she had kept on her face till that moment. The housekeeper wasn't the first person to tell her that she was spoiling Chuck way too much; Serena had accused her of the exactly the same thing a couple of hours earlier, incredulous in front of Blair's decision to buy him a gift and quite exasperated by the explanation she had given her – "I want him to know that not a single moment he was off my mind, S."
Blair, out of distraction more than manners, had ignored her best friend's complaints, but that unequivocally untrue claim was really starting to bother her. She didn't spoil her husband at all, she convinced herself once again, folding her arms across her chest; she simply wanted to show him her love and appreciation.
"Enough with this nonsense," she therefore snapped, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Not that it's any of your business, but our anniversary is in three weeks; our honeymoon phase ended months ago, and up to this day there's not one single thing that I regret," she sharply declared with a provocative demeanor, a frown darkening her face. "And my husband is not spoiled!"
With that statement, Blair turned around and crossed the foyer to the stairs, leaving Dorota to look up at her as she made her way to the second and then the third floor, where the master bedroom was. The maid shook her head and sighed in resignation once more; her Miss Blair had always had a natural talent for denying even the most blatant truths.
"Still lounging in bed, I see," Chuck heard his wife's amused voice as she entered the bedroom and, glad to know she was finally back home, he smiled pleased behind the paper he was reading.
Although he was more than impatient to see her, he didn't lower it. He was going to make her work a bit to get his full attention, he decided in that moment, determined to let her know how unpleasant it had been waking up and not finding her by his side. He was well aware of Blair and Serena's Saturday morning ritual and, honestly, he knew he was being childish, but he had gotten used to Blair's way of waking him gently every morning and now, whenever she missed to do so, he couldn't help but feeling disappointed.
Sitting on the bed with his back rested against the headboard, Chuck shrugged and continued reading. "You were gone when I woke up," he replied, stressing the word 'gone' in spite of the casual, distracted tone he had chosen to give to his voice. "Your card said 'I'll make it up to you, wait for me'," he added with a sigh, "and that's exactly what I'm doing; I'm waiting."
Still pretending to be completely caught up in the article he had actually stopped paying attention to the moment she had walked in, Chuck welcomed every tap of Blair's heels on the parquet floor with growing desire, as she approached the bed. In a couple of seconds the sound of her footsteps stopped and he didn't need to look up to know that she was standing next to him.
"Well, I'm here now," she said gleefully, her voice gentle and somewhat indulgent, "your waiting is over." Chuck felt her curls skimming over the crook of his neck and tickle him when she leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek.
Before he could stop her, she had grasped his newspaper and pulled it away from his not so tight hold. He watched, charmed by her determination, as she accurately folded it and set it on the bedside table, before sitting down next to him, a grin spreading across her face.
Forced to meet her always captivating gaze, Chuck had to purse his lips to stop himself from cracking a smile. He sighed. "You know, I was actually trying to read that —"
He got silenced by Blair's lips, suddenly pressed against his. Unable to rebel against that contact, Chuck deepened the kiss; it soon became passionate, as he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her onto his lap.
When they separated, Blair cupped his face, sliding her fingers along his cheek. "Oh! A smirk," she smiled softly, resting her index finger on the corner of his now obliquely curved lips. "I'm glad to see you've finally stopped sulking."
Chuck frowned slightly; in spite of the unconscious little smile she had promptly detected on his face, he still hadn't completely given up on his attempt to keep a dissatisfied air. "I don't sulk," he protested, a vague hint of offense in his serious tone.
Blair eyed him for a second. "You do sulk," she contradicted him, chuckling. She freed herself from his hold and turned to take off her shoes. "And quite often, I may add. You're the grumpiest person I know," she glanced over her shoulder to roll her eyes at him, "and the touchiest."
"I'm not," Chuck, his eyebrows wrinkled, put on an affronted expression, "I simply despise waking up to an empty bed."
Sighing, she shook her head. "Yes, Chuck, , I know" she commented amused. "You've already made it pretty clear in the nine texts you sent me while I was out."
Blair didn't sound annoyed at all, Chuck noticed; his wife seemed to be particularly thrilled by the situation instead, as if the fact that her absence had actually upset him delighted her somehow. A very content smirk was curling her lips and Chuck, intrigued and curious, attentively followed her with his gaze as she got up and walked over to the bed bench.
It was then that his attention was drawn by what was rested there. He immediately recognized the familiar bright orange shopping bag and, realizing that she had gotten him a gift, a clear smile – the one he had fought to repress till that moment – finally appeared on his face.
He couldn't honestly say that he was surprised, though; he was happy, for sure, but definitely not taken aback. Blair had made a habit of spoiling him in various ways since she had become his wife, and bringing him a present every time she went shopping was just one of them.
"I got you something," Blair uttered softly before he could say anything, a satisfied sparkle making her eyes brighter. "A little reminder that, no matter where I am, you're always the first thing in my head," she kept on as she paced back to the bed, bringing the gift with her. When she handed it to him, she was practically glowing.
Chuck, flattered not only by the gesture but also by her affectionate words, took the gift bag from her hands. "Hermès," he said in a whisper, as he gingerly opened the bag and extracted an equally orange box. Running a finger along the thin black ribbon tied around it, he looked up at Blair and smirked. "You do know how to please a man."
Blair shot him a mischievous glance. "No, not any man," she corrected him, as she sat down next to him; Chuck never averted his eyes from hers as she settled back by his side. "I know how to please you." She reached out to the end of the ribbon, pulling it to untie it, and opened the box.
Inside, laid on a cream tissue paper, there was a plum silk tie.
Chuck smiled at the sight of the piece she had selected for him. He picked up the tie from the box, studying its regular, elegant pattern with evident contentment; his wife had an exquisite taste, he thought, which, unequivocally, coincided with his. "You surely do," he told her, directing his gaze on her again. "It's beautiful."
Blair shyly glanced down for a moment. "It made me think of you."
Staring at her radiant expression, Chuck smiled. He delicately placed the tie back into the box and set it aside. He had never been good with words and he didn't quite know how to express that his gratitude went beyond the gift she had gotten him; so, when he whispered "Thank you" in her ear, sliding his arm across her shoulders and pulling her closer, he made sure to squeeze her tightly into his embrace, hoping that she would have understood that he felt thankful for every single thoughtful gesture and caring attention she dedicated him.
"I don't want you to leave tomorrow," about an hour later Blair broke their peaceful silence, her words barely murmured. They had spent what was left of the morning making love and they were now curled up under the duvet; Chuck had nestled her against him and she was lying partially on top of him, trapped in his arms.
Chuck gazed at her through his hooded eyelids. Blair's melancholic expression – closed eyes and a small, childish pout on her lips – evoked his empathy; he had been quite enthusiastic about this business trip and the closure of a particularly problematic deal, but the prospective of spending two weeks away from home felt, in the moment he caught that glimpse of sadness on his wife's face, less appealing than ever. "I'd much rather stay," he sighed, his hands slowly stroking her back and searching for a curl to capture and twirl around his fingers.
Blair let out a soft giggle. "Liar," she opened her eyes to give him an amused look. "It's not a credible answer, Bass. We both know you want to go." A tiny smile took the place of the pout she had showed till then, and Chuck felt himself smirking, always delighted by her ability to comprehend him. "I know it's important," she kept on, absentmindedly tracing circles on his bare chest with the tip of her index. "I'm just going to miss you. Two weeks are a long period and time seems to flow differently when we're apart: it never passes."
Chuck, understanding and recognizing that gloomy sensation of slowness and incompleteness, tightened his hold on her. "It will," he assured her, ducking his head to place a kiss on her temple.
Blair, inhaling a deep breath, nodded. Chuck watched her eyes closing as she relaxed in his arms. He felt relieved, realizing that, in spite of the vague sadness that had caught them, she still looked serene and satisfied. It was her that he was going to come home to – someone who truly loved him and missed his presence – and the thought left him completely aware of his luck.
He made sure they didn't leave their bedroom till the morning after, desirous to fully enjoy every moment they had together before being forced to such a long period of separation.
Ten days had passed since the last time Blair had seen her husband in person and, at this point, she was feeling quite miserable. Nothing about this situation was new to Blair, not the immense distance that divided them or the particularly limited time they had to talk; it was an aspect of their lives that she had willingly and reasonably accepted as the price to pay for success – and a thriving success was, indeed, what they both aspired to, other than an important ingredient for their happiness.
Being accustomed to this kind of circumstance, however, didn't make it any less unpleasant.
Blair missed Chuck terribly. She didn't simply miss his presence; she missed their habits and, as ridiculous as it might have sounded to anyone else's ears, she missed all the small things she used to do for him to show her devotion.
Delicately waking him in the morning and sparing him the annoyance of a ringing alarm, calling him at lunch time to ask about his day, waiting for him in the foyer whenever she got home before him in the evening with a glass of his scotch in hand, covering him with an extra blanket at night when, in his sleep, he whined about being cold; she usually sprinkled their days with these and many other loving cares – simple gestures that gave her a serene sense of belonging – and being unable to follow this routine was frustrating for her. She had been rather irritable ever since Chuck had left.
"You miss spoiling Mr. Chuck," Dorota, witty and insightful as usual, had given this meaning to her employer's impossible mood some days ago. Blair, who categorically refused to consider the situation in those terms, had dismissed the comment with a glare.
She did the same thing in that moment, when her maid, probably trying to figure out if she was still so grouchy, shot her an inquisitive glance while serving her breakfast.
"I explicitly asked blueberries, Dorota, not raspberries," Blair complained, looking down at the cup of yogurt and fruit parfait now laid on the breakfast table. She reached for the china teapot on the silvery tray and, cringing, she immediately let it go. "And this tea is scalding," she let out a sharp sigh, pursing her lips. "Do you want me to burn my palate?" she raised her eyes on the maid, frowning.
"Miss Blair, you asked both, and tea is as hot as usual." Dorota rolled her eyes. "You nervous because Mr. Chuck running late."
Blair scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous," she retorted, adjusting the beige cloth napkin on her lap – a perfect expedient to avoid the older woman's stare. "I'm not a petulant child, I know better than to be rigid when it comes to his schedule. He's not on vacation."
Dorota sighed resignedly and Blair was delighted to find out that her words had come out firm and harsh enough to put an end to the conversation.
Though, as the maid walked out of the room, Blair's gaze inevitably shifted on the laptop she had set in front of her, waiting for Chuck to be on Skype so that they could video chat. He had sent her a good morning text a couple of hours ago, letting her know that he was going to be online around 7 AM, but it was almost 7:30 and he still hadn't showed up.
His delay was actually starting to make her feel tense; she couldn't wait to see his face, to talk to him and to make sure he was okay. Trying to be patient, Blair turned her attention back to her breakfast and began to eat without particular enthusiasm.
She couldn't stop herself from glancing at the desktop every time she brought the teaspoon to her mouth, impatient to see the incoming call box appear. Her cup of yogurt was almost empty when it did. She rushed to answer and, after a moment, she found herself smiling as she saw Chuck staring back at her from the screen.
"You're late," she set the crystal cup aside and then brushed her fingers on the laptop screen, lightly, as if she wanted touch his cheek; aware that she couldn't, she sighed. "I was worried."
"I'm sorry," he justified himself. The little smirk on his lips faded just a little. "My last meeting lasted longer than I thought."
Blair realized that he must have just returned to the hotel; he was sitting on a couch in what she recognized to be the living room of his modern furnished suite, still fully dressed in a charcoal gray suit. "I figured," noticing his tired expression, she nodded sympathetically. "How was your day?"
It was already night in Tokyo. Behind the large, spotless windows of the room he was in, she could see that the sky was completely dark. Knowing that his day coming to its end when hers had yet to start felt strange. Blair hated that enormous time difference between them; it was a constant reminder of how far her was, and it conceded them only brief moments to catch up.
"Stressful," Chuck replied, taking off his jacket. "But successful regardless. How are you?" leaning back on the couch to make himself more comfortable, he smirked again, this time more evidently. "How much do you miss me today?"
Blair raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm perfectly fine," she said in a forced blasé tone, accompanying her words with a nonchalant shrug. "What makes you think that I miss you, exactly?"
Chuck chortled. "Your face," he explained, lips still oblique, as he loosened his impeccably knotted tie and then proceeded to unfasten the buttons of his dress shirt's collar.
Observing that sequence of gestures, Blair ended up wondering that she would have wanted to take care of that, to do it for him, like she used to whenever he got back home late. She couldn't help but pout – and betray her attempt to be playful and sarcastic about her blatant nostalgia.
Her wistful look didn't pass unnoticed by Chuck's attentive eyes. "You miss me a lot," he stated the obvious, empathizing his declaration with a rather dramatic sigh.
Blair rolled her eyes at him and his complacent air. Feeling herself blushing slightly, though, she lowered her gaze.
When she glanced up again, Chuck's smug smirk had softened in a warmer and more genuine smile. "I miss you too," he said and Blair had no doubts that he was sincere.
He would have looked just tired to someone who didn't know him as well as she did, but she could read what his always indefinite and cryptic expression let show through in a surprisingly clear way; it revealed a melancholic homesickness that made her lips curl in a both sad and tender smile.
"Just four more days, Chuck," she reminded him in a low voice.
Chuck answered with a weak nod and then asked about the plans she had for the day.
As she spoke, Blair could see his face becoming more peaceful; he had settled a pillow on the seat-back under his head and his expression was serene, as if the familiarity of that moment – listening to her as she talked about her schedule – had managed to make him feel closer to home.
It was with plain reluctance that, ten minutes after, he sighed. "I wish I could stay here longer, but unfortunately I still have some work to do," he told her, running a hand through his hair.
Blair eyed him for a second and a worried wrinkle appeared on her forehead. She shook her head a little. "I'd tell you not to stay up too late if I was naive enough to believe that there is even just one chance that you'll listen to me."
Chuck, who surely hadn't missed the undertone of concern in her bossy voice, laughed quietly. "Don't be nervous, Blair," he said, his notorious devilish smile back to bend his lips. "I'll be fine."
Noticing that he was enjoying her ill-concealed worry – she bet it flattered him somehow – Blair frowned. "Charles," she leaned in closer to the screen to give him a serious look, which, much to her dismay, caused his smirk to turn sharper and more pleased. "I'm serious. Get some rest," she sighed, hearing her voice becoming inevitably softer. "I know you're not sleeping enough."
Chuck stared at her for a long moment before shrugging. He wasn't going to admit that she was right – he was too proud for that, Blair thought – but, when he gazed at her, she recognized a tacit admission in his steady look. "I promise you I'll be fine," he repeated, this time calm and reassuring.
It was enough for her to let herself relax and show him a loving smile. When they ended the video chat Blair was relieved ("Have a good day," Chuck said, and, still annoyed by the time difference, she answered wishing him goodnight – "Please, sleep"), It had been a short call, but still heartwarming.
She finished her breakfast and headed to Waldorf Designs feeling a bit less nervous and looking forward to Skype again that night – during his lunch break. Just four more days, she told herself as she got ready to start working, hoping that they were going to pass as fast as possible.
Chuck sighed with relief when the limousine progressively started to slow down and then stopped in front of his townhouse. He was pretty tired from traveling and impatient to see his wife.
Waiting for Arthur to open the car door for him, he took a moment to stare at the elegant building from behind the darkened car window. He smiled. The lights were all on to remind him that there was someone waiting for him inside and a warm feeling of joy suddenly filled his chest.
Twenty minutes ago, when he had landed, he had called Blair to let her know that he was on his way home, and he expected her to be waiting for him in the foyer, ready to welcome him with a drink and a wide smile on her lips.
A few seconds later, with that pleasant image stuck in his mind, he slid out of the vehicle and rapidly walked to the entrance, leaving the driver and his bodyguard to take care of the suitcases.
His expectations weren't betrayed; as soon as he pushed the front door open, his eyes immediately found Blair, standing in the middle of the room.
Chuck barely had the time to catch a glimpse of her figure – she was wearing something red and she was indeed holding a glass of what seemed to be scotch – and delighted expression before she rushed over him and he instinctively did the same, eliminating the distance between them with a few rapid and impatient steps.
In a moment, his arms were tightly wrapped around her. He realized, the instant he got to hold her, how much he had missed her; he was longing for her, in the most needy and possessive sense of the word. He closed his eyes and, burying his face into the crook of her neck, he deeply breathed her in; he was finally home.
"Welcome back," she said, sliding her free hand over his coat covered shoulders up to the back of his head; delicately, her fingers started running through his hair.
"I've missed you," he murmured against her shoulder, his voice husky and eager. Before she could reply, Chuck lifted his head to capture her lips in an avid kiss.
It was a long, fervent one; he got lost in the pleasure of being close to her again – his hands firmly clutching her hips and her fingers grasping his hair – and, for a couple of minutes, the reality around them became indistinct.
It was only when they parted that he became aware of it again. His eyes focused on her face; she looked relieved and genuinely happy. Bringing her hand to his cheek to cup it, she smiled at him. "I'm so glad you're home," she said and promptly offered him the drink. "You look tired."
Chuck grabbed the glass with a thankful smirk. "Then I deserve special attentions," he raised his eyebrows at her. "Don't you think?"
Blair answered him by rolling her eyes. She glanced over his shoulder as he drained the scotch in a single sip and noticed that, although Chuck's luggage had been already brought upstairs while they were too busy greeting each to notice, his driver was still standing next to the closed door, waiting to be dismissed.
She smiled at him. "You can go, Arthur," she told him. Chuck shot her an interrogative glance, which she ignored. "And don't worry about coming tomorrow morning; Mr. Bass is taking a day off."
"Am I?" Chuck asked with a slight frown as he handed the coat to his valet, who had just entered the room. He had already decided to concede himself a day of vacation and the fact that his wife had predicted his intention was rather amusing – even though not unexpected.
Blair brought her eyes back on him. "Yes, you are," she said firmly, taking the now empty glass from his hand. "I wasn't joking, Chuck," she gently stroked his arm. "You really look exhausted."
Chuck was, indeed. Wondering that there was no point in denying it, he sighed and gave a nod to his driver, silently confirming his wife's words and allowing him to leave.
Once they were alone again, he casually wrapped a lazy arm around Blair's waist again and squeezed her hip. "I'll go freshen up, then," he told her, before placing a brief kiss on her cheek.
"Of course," a bright smile spread across her face as she ran a hand over his chest up to the collar of his shirt. "There's a hot bubble bath waiting for you upstairs, by the way," she reached the his tie knot under the cardigan he was wearing and carefully loosened it, glancing up to give him an affectionate look. "Take all the time you need."
This was, Chuck found out with great satisfaction, just the first of the extra cares Blair had actually decided that he needed. When he came out of the bathroom, half an hour later, she had already picked a warm velvet robe and pajamas for him, sparing him the effort of doing it himself.
A brief, intimate dinner was served shortly after. As they ate and talked, finally able to really catch up, Chuck never stopped looking for a physical contact; he was constantly reaching for her hand on the table to squeeze it. He had missed her so much that, now that he was with her, he couldn't help but indulging that sensation of completeness and fulfillment he felt by touching her.
After dinner they spent some time in the living room, enjoying a drink. It wasn't after long, however, that Blair insisted that they'd go upstairs to their bedroom, claiming that he needed sleep. Chuck didn't really look forward to get up from the couch where he was sitting, cuddling a particularly enthusiastic Monkey, but he did look forward to lie down, so he didn't object. He gave one last stroke to his dog and then tiredly followed his wife up the stairs to the third floor. They were in bed by ten.
Later, Blair, snuggled up in his embrace, sighed. He had become very quiet over the last ten minutes, hardly answering to what she said, but she knew he was still awake. His hold on her was still firm – he was almost clinging to her, actually, as if he needed to pull her closer to make it up for two weeks of nights spent in an empty bed – and his fingers were still toying with her hair absentmindedly.
She rolled in his arms, turning to face him. "You're not sleeping," she stated, resting a hand on the curve between his shoulder and neck and stroking it lightly.
"I can't," he replied, tilting his head on side, rubbing his cheek against her palm. "It's more or less noon to me, Blair."
Blair nodded. "I understand," she answered quietly. She started skimming her fingers over his chest in a relaxing way, barely touching the silk of his pajama while tracing imaginary lines.
"Dorota says I spoil you," she wondered after a while. That thought had been stuck in her mind for days; she was starting to acknowledge that it wasn't a completely unreasonable claim, but admitting it to herself – and, especially, to him – was much harder. "Do you think it's true?"
Chuck let out a chuckle. "What do you think?" he asked her. The amusement her question had brought with it was palpable even through his somnolent voice; the answer was clearly a yes.
"It's not funny, Bass," she protested when he laughed again. She suddenly stopped caressing his chest and gave him a playful slap instead. "I'm a Waldorf. We're tough women, we don't spoil."
"But you have no objections when it comes to being spoiled, right?" he pointed out and, even without looking at him, she was able to tell from the pleased sound of his voice that he had smirked.
Blair, knowing that there was an undeniable truth in his joke, didn't reply. Chuck adored spoiling her and he did it according to his mania of grandeur; he had spent those months they've been married lavishing gifts on her – all of them exclusive and splendid. He never denied her anything. Blair couldn't remember one single time he had told her no; in fact, most of the times, she didn't even have to ask.
She was silent for a minute. Sensing her pensiveness, Chuck squeezed her in his protective hug. "Blair, I've been spoiled all my life," he confessed her. "I've always been surrounded by people who did things for me because they had to. What you do is different. You don't just spoil me; you take care of me and you do it out of love." He paused, inhaling a deep breath. He reached for her hand still resting on his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing its back. "I feel loved," he affirmed. His words sounded heart-felt and honest. "You were the first person to make me feel like this."
The gratitude in his voice moved Blair. She sensed tears pricking her eyes and shut her eyelids to push them back. She had distinguished a needy note in his tone, a vague hint that confirmed, once again, what she felt every day; all the small attentions she dedicated to him were, in some ways, indispensable. To Chuck they meant more than he could explain; they were powerful reminders of her love, able to placate the surges of insecurity that often caught him.
She knew she was essential to him and the thought made her feel special and important. "And that will never change," she assured him. She covered the small distance between their faces and placed a light kiss on his lips. "I will always do my best to make you feel loved."
Chuck cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing circles on her smooth skin. Even in the darkness, now that she was this close, he could still vaguely see her expression, loving and sincere. He knew she was telling the truth; he believed her and trusted her like he had never trusted anyone.
"I love you," he simply answered, knowing that those three words would have always carried the meaning of everything he felt for her.
He fell asleep holding her as tight as he could, his nose sunk into her hair to inhale her scent. He was happier than he'd ever thought he could have been.
Notes:
[1] It's super fluffy. But I love the idea of Blair being a caring, maternal wife. In my head-canon she definitely is. I often say that Chuck is a needy person and Blair needs to feel needed; this is the idea behind this one-shot. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me and ask!
[2] In case someone is wondering, there were actually 14 hours of time difference between Chuck and Blair during part of this fic. I personally checked!
[3] English is not my first language, I'm Italian. I apologize for possible mistakes.
[4] As usual, a big thank you to my dear Daphne (WeirdDaph on twitter) for correcting it and being very supportive.