A/N: Hi, I like this part. You should too. And then you should review, 'cause, you know, I'd like my ego stroked kthx.
The fourth time that Blair Waldorf kisses Chuck Bass (As far as Nate knows, anyways, and not that he's keeping count or anything) reminds him eerily of the first in that seeing is believing, and he still can't bring himself to look away.
Blair always shines in silk, no matter the occasion, but Nate secretly hates weddings, and Bart never liked him anyways. (He tries not to take it personally: it's not like Bart ever really liked anyone, come to think of it.)
And the sinking feeling in his stomach is telling him that Blair's never looked this, well, giddy before. But then again, who wouldn't glow after a speech like that? Nate knows he's not great shakes with words and phrases, and he drags his compositions out painfully, lacking in both rhythm and rhyme. It's all in the repetition, or so his teachers claim, but it's not that Nate wants to be eloquent. It's simply that Chuck already is. Which makes, Nate thinks, at least two things Chuck has that he doesn't: words and Blair Waldorf.
He's not jealous, though, really. Nate knows Chuck Bass like he knows breathing, and Chuck's got problems of his own that Nate can't even fathom grappling with. Because, when it comes to the thick of it, they've got each other, at least. (He just wishes the obnoxious little voice in his head would quit poking him and whispering about how Chuck also has Blair.)
And Nate can't help but to wonder what he and Blair could have been were it not for his father and the omnipresent pressure he represents. He's like every other teenager, really: the second you tell him to do something, he wants anything but. And who tells a sixteen-year-old to propose to their girlfriend, anyways? Nate's pretty sure that's not normal parental behavior, even for the Upper East Side.
But then Vanessa scatters his thoughts when she leans in close, and Nate comes to the sudden and passionate conclusion that he's happy for them, together. At least, he's happy that they're happy. And he really is. Nate loves nothing more than making people happy, and in this case, he makes them happy by doing nothing at all.
He clinks his glass against Vanessa's, and her infectious smile spreads. Nate can't help but feel the swell of pride that he's making Vanessa happy, too. And he knows his time will come. Serena catches his eye from across the room, and they smirk at each other. Chuck tips an invisible hat in his direction from the dance floor.
Nate secretly hates weddings (Remember the Sheppard's, anyone?), but everyone else seems to love them, and that's enough for him. So when Vanessa links her fingers in with his and whispers about getting some air, he can't help but to comply. But he's Nate Archibald. And Vanessa can be captivating, regardless of how Blair shines in silk. But he makes sure to finish his champagne before they get their coats, just because, well, captivating can only go so far.