A/N: Hello there! I am proud to announce the return of Blair Waldorf's scheming in this chapter. I'm sure you have missed it dearly. Things in this chapter:
1) Buckets of schemes.
2) Mysterious text messages.
3) Limos.
4) Backs of limos.
Make of that what you will ;-)
How Blair Waldorf Got Her Groove Back...Sort of.
There was something about sharing breakfast that felt terribly domesticated. Throughout all his years of womanizing and bed-hopping, Chuck Bass had avoided sharing breakfast with the dexterity of a regular commitment phobic. Sharing a meal so early in the day was too intimate. It was too personal. And even more bothersome, it was too drab, too normal. Since Blair, however, his opinion on the morning meal had changed. He would never admit it but his breakfasts with Blair were some of his favorite times with her.
"This toaster has a personal vendetta against me," Blair huffed, pulling out two burnt pieces of toast. "I am buying you a new one."
"The setting is probably too high," he said from the table. "Lower it."
She glared back at him and said, "I am not an idiot, Bass. I lowered the setting and it still burned the damn toast."
Chuck laughed and hoisted himself up gingerly from the table. He walked over and peered at the toaster. "You still have the setting too high."
Blair scowled at him while he stepped over to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Why do I put up with you?"
"I ask myself that same question every morning."
His comment cut through her early morning toaster-induced irritation and she smiled softly and padded over to him for a quick kiss. After she padded back to the toaster and stared it down with a steely look. "Toaster, don't mess with me again."
"I'm sure it wouldn't dare cross you again."
He poured her a cup of coffee and brought both the cups to the table and sat back down. There was a bowl of fruit on the table that Dorota had cut the day before and he reached in and took a piece of cantaloupe. He heard the toaster go off behind him and looked back to see Blair pull out two perfectly toasted pieces of bread. She grinned and plated them, carrying several jars of imported jam to the table along with the toast.
Chuck smeared fig jam on his toast and took a bite. "This, Blair, is perfectly toasted."
"Of course it is," she answered. "I never make the same mistake twice." She found the error in her words and added, "Well, except for you."
"This time won't be a mistake," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. She smiled and said, "It better not otherwise I'll set your recovery back months."
"Let's do something today."
"Like what?"
"Walk around the city or-I don't know-see a movie?"
She snorted and said, "Chuck and Blair seeing a movie? I thought that was impossible."
"Nothing is impossible."
"Fine, unlikely." She took a bite of toast. "It seems a bit common, doesn't it?"
"Nothing is common with us, Blair. We elevate even a rinky-dink movie theater."
She grinned. "That we do."
"I've got it," Chuck said after a moment. "Picnic in the park."
"Chuck," Blair said slowly, "are you serious?"
"As death," he deadpanned.
"Chuck and Blair picnicking?" Blair said, testing the words on her tongue. "It sounds so quaint."
He took her hand and kissed her palm. "It sounds wonderful."
"Alright," she said, giving him a warm grin. "Picnic in the park it is."
CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR
Chuck and Blair sat in Central Park with the requisite picnic blanket and basket. Blair had asked Dorota to prepare a selection of sandwiches and salads and Chuck had topped the basket off with a bottle of red wine on the way out.
"We didn't bring any wine glasses," Blair noted, rifling through the basket.
"We'll drink from the bottle," he answered easily, fishing out the corkscrew and driving it into the cork. Blair watched as Chuck delicately drew the cork out and then take a sip from the bottle. He passed it to her and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "This feels so wrong."
"Just do it, Waldorf."
She shot him a look and then tipped the bottle back gingerly. A bit dripped from her mouth and she wiped it away sheepishly as she handed Chuck the bottle.
"I have much to teach you," Chuck said with a grin. He took the bottle and easily took a long sip.
"Do you know what I want right now?" Blair asked, leaning toward him.
"What would that be?"
She leaned forward a bit more so that the deep v of her dress revealed a hint of her lacy bra and purred, "Look behind you."
Chuck turned and Blair languidly pointed a finger toward a colorful gelato truck. "You want gelato?" he asked, turning back to her.
She nodded. "Yes, that is exactly what I want."
"And you want me to get it?" he asked knowingly. She nodded her head up and down and he said with feigned disbelief, "You are making an injured man go and get you gelato?"
"That is exactly what I am doing," she said. "And you are no longer injured. You are recovering. Something I have been integral to and-"
"Okay, okay," he relented with a grin. "I will get you your gelato."
She kissed him softly on the cheek with a whispered thank you and then he carefully stood up and went across the street to get her gelato. She watched him walk away in is lightweight Brooks Brother suit and relished in the fact that she knew without a doubt he would be walking back -and with gelato. She thought for a moment that she was possibly more excited about that second part. She felt the picnic blanket vibrate and saw Chuck's phone next to the basket. She tried to ignore it. There was nothing to worry about, after all. He loved her and after what they had gone through she knew he would not do anything to mess it up. She trusted Chuck and there was no reason to be suspicious of one text message.
His phone was just laying there, though, and the blinking screen seemed to be mocking her. One look wouldn't be a crime, she rationalized. And besides, she always had a curious nature. That was something Chuck had always loved about her. Resolute in her decision, she reached forward quickly and flipped open the phone. Despite her rationalizations, she looked up anxiously to make sure Chuck was still at the gelato cart before opening the message.
Tomorrow. 5:00.
The number wasn't listed and she frowned as she closed the phone and put it back beside the basket. Her head was spinning as she tried to suppress her mounting suspicion. Chuck loved her. She could trust him-she did trust him. It was probably an innocuous message or one that he wasn't supposed to receive. There was a perfectly sound explanation, she was sure of it.
She pulled the wine from the basket and took a hearty sip.
"You're learning," Chuck said upon his return, sitting down next to her and handing over the gelato. She took it with a tight smile. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Blair answered. "Perfectly fine."
CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR
Blair walked out of the elevator into the Van der Woodsen apartment. She looked around briefly and when she did not see Serena she called out, "Serena, I need you! Now!"
It took a moment but then Serena emerged from her bedroom looking at her oddly as she said, "Did I miss a call or something?"
"No, you didn't," Blair said, dropping dramatically into the Van der Woodsen's plush couch. "I am having a dilemma."
Serena smirked at her friend's dramatics and asked, "And what dilemma is that, B?"
"Chuck and I were having a picnic and I looked at one of his texts-"
"Blair, why would you do that?"
"Because I am curious," Blair said. "And his phone was just laying there while Chuck was getting us gelato-"
"You made Chuck go get you gelato?" Serena asked with a grin. Blair pursed her lips into a frown and said, "Do you want to hear about this or not?"
"Sorry, go on."
"I looked at the text, from an unknown number, and it read Tomorrow. 5:00."
"That's it?"
Blair nodded. "Yes." She looked at Serena and couldn't deny the way her friend's face had fallen. "It's bad, isn't it?"
"You don't know that."
"I shouldn't have looked," Blair lamented. "I should have just left it alone."
"Blair, I'm sure it's nothing."
"He promised he wouldn't hurt me again," she said softly. "He promised."
"Look, just don't overreact. You should ask Chuck. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation."
"I can't tell him I checked his phone."
"Blair, he knows you," she reminded her. "I doubt he'll be surprised."
"I can't tell him." She picked at her manicure and an idea slowly came to her. At first it was an abstract idea but as she picked off a large chip of Park Avenue Red nailpolish the plan solidified. "I'll find out myself."
"Blair," Serena warned. "No scheming."
"No scheming," Blair agreed. "Following."
"No, Blair-"
"I'll follow him to wherever he is going tomorrow," Blair said, her voice raising in excitement. "I'll take a cab so that he won't get suspicious. I'll take Dorota with me and we'll follow his limo."
"Blair, this is really not a good idea."
"It's a fine idea," Blair announced. "And it will work."
She stood up and smoothed her skirt, feeling a sense of calm that had evaded her since the picnic. She would find out what was going on and on her own terms. It would all turn out okay. She was sure of it.
CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR
"Why not just ask Mr. Chuck where he going?" Dorota asked as her and Blair followed Chuck's limo in a taxicab. "He tell you."
"Because that is not the way we are doing things," Blair explained slowly. Her voice grew tarter as she snapped at the driver, "Keep up with that limo!"
"It will all work out, Dorota," Blair continued pleasantly. "You'll see, it will all work out."
"Whatever you say, Ms. Blair."
Blair nodded approvingly as her stomach curled with anxiety. She loved Chuck and he loved her yet she could not help feeling unsure on what she was embarking on. He had told her that he was going to the Plaza and she frowned as his limo sailed past the hotel.
"It will all work out," she repeated, but her face had fallen and Dorota noticed.
"Oh, Ms. Blair," she said, patting her hand. Blair ripped her hand away irritably and snapped, "Don't. There is an explanation. There has to be."
Chuck's limo pulled into a small bar that she knew Chuck frequented and she felt her stomach drop when he climbed out and made his way in. "Stay here," she told Dorota as she climbed out of the cab. She followed at a safe distance and stationed herself in a moderately concealed spot as Chuck walked over to the bar. She watched him sit opposite a man and pull out an envelope from the inside of his suitjacket. A man that she didn't recognize took the envelope and opened it briefly, taking a peek inside. He reached into his own jacket and pulled out a folded stack of papers. Chuck watched him intently as the man spoke and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out something that she couldn't see. It was small and she leaned forward to identify the object.
"What the..," she breathed out, recognizing the shape of a jewelry box.
CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR
"The two men were caught right outside of Prague," the man said to Chuck. "They both have twenty years."
"They should get longer," Chuck hissed, remembering the feel of the men's arms barricading him, the cool of the gun against his skin. "Were you able to get it back?"
The man nodded and reached into his jacket. He pulled out the ring box and handed it to Chuck. "It was on the men when they were caught."
Chuck's heart quickened when he opened up the box and the diamond caught the dingy light. "Is it the one?" the man asked.
"Yeah," Chuck said, shutting the box. "It is."
"Good, it was wonderful doing business with you." The man extended his hand and Chuck took it coolly. "You too, thank you."
The man stood and as he turned to leave Chuck spotted something over his shoulder that he did not expect. Blair was sitting at a corner table, clearly watching him and when their eyes locked her brunette head ducked down in an amateur attempt to conceal herself. He smiled as he thought that for all her scheming, she was terrible at getting herself out of a bind. He got up from the bar and walked over to Blair's table.
"Well, this is unexpected," he drawled.
"Chuck," she said in feigned surprise, her hand floating to her chest. "I didn't know you were here."
"Nice try," he said, sitting opposite her. "You followed me?"
She didn't respond and he asked, "Why?"
"I read your text yesterday," she admitted.
"Why am I not surprised?"
"I couldn't help myself," she said, feeling silly saying it. "You know how curious I get."
He chuckled, "Yes, I do. Well, do you want me to explain or do you want to draw your own conclusions."
"Explain," she said immediately.
"That was Mike, one of my PIs. I had him look into the men who mugged me. They, uh, took something of mine that I wanted back."
Blair thought of what she had seen the man take out of his pocket and became even more interested. "What did they take?"
Chuck stood up and offered her his hand. She took it silently and let him pull her from the bar. Chuck took one look at the cab waiting in front and told her, "You can send Dorota home."
Blair grinned softly. "You really do know me well." She went to the cab and quickly told Dorota to just take the cab home. She pressed a fifty dollar bill into Dorota's palm and then joined Chuck in the limo. Her stomach dropped when she saw the jewelry box in his hand.
"What's that?" She asked carefully.
"It's what Mike recovered from Prague."
"And?"
Her heart nearly stopped when he opened up the box and she saw what looked like an engagement ring. Her fingers grasped at the material of her skirt as she nervously asked, "Why did you have that?"
"It was supposed to be yours," he said. "I was going to give it to you before Humphrey's knuckles connected with my jaw."
She winced at the memory. "You were going to propose?"
"Something like that," he answered. "It was supposed to represent my loyalty." He snorted somewhat unkindly. "Seems a bit ridiculous now."
She covered his hand with hers. "Don't go back there, Chuck."
"I really do love you," he said, his eyes locking with hers. "You know that, right?"
"I love you, too," she said, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. "What are you going to do with that ring now?"
"Probably sell it," he said. She did her best to hide her disappointment. "I can't give it to you now."
All she said was, "Oh, right."
"We can go and look for a ring together," he continued. "If you want to."
She turned to him and eagerly asked, "Really?"
He laughed, "Yes, really."
She threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly on the mouth. His arms wound around her waist and her mouth opened beneath his. The kiss deepened and she felt something stir. She pulled away and gently touched his cheek with her fingers. His skin was warm beneath her fingers and as he lifted his lips to hers again she pulled back further and shook her head.
"Blair-"
"Sshh," she said softly, her eyes not leaving his as she shifted her weight and pulled her leg over him. His hands settled on the small of her back as she straddled him and she leaned forward and covered his mouth with hers. She felt him harden beneath her and pressed her hips to his teasingly. He moaned beneath her mouth.
"Wait," he said hoarsely, turning away from her lips. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she said, kissing him hard. "I'm sure."
"I don't want to rush into anything," he said, finding it increasingly hard to rationalize while Blair's hand found the crotch of his pants.
"I want this," she said, giving him a quick squeeze. "I want you."
She unzipped his pants and drew him out. With the green light his hands worked deftly as they went up her skirt and pulled down her panties. The fever within him heightened at the feel of lace against his skin and then the milky smoothness of her thighs. Her arms wound around his neck as he reached down and guided himself in. She moved quickly and he pressed kisses onto her temple as he mumbled, "Slow, slow."
He could feel her all around him and he couldn't believe that months ago he had nearly lost her. In fact, he hadn't nearly lost her-he had. She had walked away and he was never so happy to have been shot because without that bullet she wouldn't be in the back of his limo. She wouldn't be breathing heavily into his ear, her tongue finding the inner rim of his ear. She would be off with someone who probably deserved her more and he would be alone with copious amounts of liquor. He was glad that were both where they were. They were where they belonged.
He felt her reach the end and then let himself finish. Fireworks seemed to erupt in his mind and she clung to him. "I love you," she whispered in his ear. "I love you, Chuck Bass."
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "I love you."
A/N: Anyone wishing they had a backseat of a limo? And Chuck Bass? Having watched nearly half of season two over two days- I say YES. Clearly- I have no life. Feel free to mock in review-form.
