Title: Time in Between
Author: Isabelle
Rating: PG
Summary: Sequel to Time for Drabbles. Because you guys liked the first part so much and asked for more moments.
Spoilers: Any aired episodes are game.
Disclaimer: God I wish they belonged to me.
--
2:30 AM
"Chuck?" she whispered to him.
He mumbled, rolling his head on the pillow.
"Chuck," she was now whining.
"Blair?" he asked, his lashes stuck on his face.
She looked at him, pouting.
"What is it?" he asked, tiredly.
"Chuck…." He knew that voice and groaned.
She looked at him from under her lashes.
"You're going to have to say it," he ran his hand over his face.
She hesitated, playing with her fingers. "I really want pulled pork."
He closed his eyes and sighed. "You can't be serious."
"I need pulled pork so bad that I think I'm going to pass out." She pleaded.
"Blair…" he said patiently. "We live in New York. Not Nashville."
"Chuck I need pulled pork. I need it now. With coleslaw on the side and maybe some Texas toast." She licked her lips.
He grimaced at the sound of the meal she had in mind at 2 AM, nonetheless!
"Where am I supposed to find this fatty meal?" he cried.
"I don't know!" she snapped. "It's bad enough that you impregnate me, but your sperm worked overtime to give me twins and now they're demanding pork!"
"I'll get it tomorrow," he rolled over.
She growled. "I need it now!" She pinched him and he hissed, rubbing his arm.
"It's two in the fucking morning, Blair! Christ!" he sat up, glaring at her.
"What am I supposed to do?" she sat up and rolled out of bed.
"I told you to stop watching the Food Network," he slipped on his pants.
She grabbed her robe. "It was the only thing on!"
He grabbed a shirt and slipped it on. "Why can't you want olives and mustard like normal pregnant women, huh?"
"Are you saying I'm abnormal?" she cried, tying her robe around her stomach and then glaring down at the basketball-sized lump.
He slipped into his shoes and grabbed his jacket. "I'm saying you could at least wait until we have staff here!"
"I wanted to get full time staff!" she slipped on her shoes.
"No you didn't!" he cried, slipping on his jacket.
"Chuck!" she whined.
"What?" he snapped.
"The pulled pork!" she was grabbing on to his coat and pulling him down.
"I'm going, dammit!" he growled, gave her a chaste kiss and stalked out the door.
He came back two hours later, a plate of pulled pork, coleslaw and a soggy Texas toast in his hand. His eyes bloodshot. She was asleep on the couch.
"Blair?" he stood over her. She blinked up and smiled at him.
"Hey! Where were you?" she asked, sitting up.
He glared down at her. "The pork." He placed the take-out box on her lap.
She grimaced. "Oh baby, I don't think I want it anymore."
His mouth fell open.
"The moment you left what I really wanted was olives and mustard. And we had those," she kissed him and walked to the bedroom. "I don't know why I wanted that."
