The service was followed by a lavish buffet in the next room, but Chuck was oblivious to the flowing fountains of champagne and exquisitely prepared seafood. He'd already set his sights on the only thing he actually wanted, and he'd caught hold of her arm and whisked her out of the hall before she could react otherwise. And then it was just the two of them in one small space, out of hearing and out of sight, his face inches from hers.
She jerked instantly out of his hold. "What do you think you're doing?" Her eyes blazed as she regarded him.
He ignored her. "Where were you last night?" It came out too raw, too desperate - so he forced a wall back up. Made his voice cold. "You never came home."
She laughed at that, short and angry. "I'm sorry, are we telling each other things now?"
Chuck ground his teeth together. "Blair-"
"You knew." She just stared at him. "You knew he was back."
(Was that really why she was so angry, he wondered? Was that all of it?) "He wasn't supposed to still be here," he finally snapped. "I assumed he'd just run away again-"
"So you didn't think you'd ever have to tell me? You thought - what? That I just wouldn't find out?" Just like Carter had never bothered to tell her he no longer wanted her or their life together? "Because clueless Blair is always the last person to ever be told anything-"
He grabbed her wrist, and his voice was abruptly very harsh. "I'm not him."
The heat of his fingers scalded her - or the sudden intensity in his eyes, perhaps. She found her voice stuck for a moment. (Because she knew damn well who Chuck was, and that was the point. Because the thought of Chuck doing that-)
"Do you have any idea," she hissed at last, "How humiliating it is, to turn up at his father's memorial-"
"I told you I didn't know he was going to be here."
Her eyes slanted at him, dangerously. "Yes you did. Or you wouldn't have shown up so late." She moved a fraction closer, and he released her wrist. "Or you wouldn't have shown up at all." She saw the truth darken in his gaze - but she refused to let him look away. "You knew."
Yes. Yes, he'd known. But he hadn't known when he'd decided not to tell her at the start of the weekend. He hadn't known last night, when he'd been sitting in her penthouse waiting for her to come home. When he'd been so sure that his little lie of ommission would no longer even matter, because Carter was long gone anyway. And then one hour had stretched into two, and he'd started to feel uneasy. He'd finally gone to the Palace in the hope that she'd show up there to punish him. But instead of Blair waiting for him, there had been a message from Andrew Tyler. Carter never got on the plane. Concierge had then informed him Blair had, indeed, come to the Palace - and left with a young man from the bar. And Carter never got on the plane.
Blair was pissed at him, Carter was still in New York, Blair still wasn't home - the thoughts had repeated, over and over, as he'd ordered his first scotch. He'd wanted to tear down the whole of Manhattan till he found her, and he was too scared of what he'd find to even try.
And now she was so close that he could finally breathe her in, and she was still glaring up at him. He'd missed that glare. "I'm sorry." He lowered his head even closer, so that the words were a murmur in her ear.
And he felt her surprise. Chuck Bass didn't apologise. She tried to look at him properly. "What-"
His nose brushed her cheek, his lips finding her jaw. "I'm not saying it again." Her skin was soft under the heat of his mouth; he sensed her breath catch, despite herself. Her fingers curled uselessly on his shoulder.
"Chuck-"
He pulled her flush against him to kiss her fully, and this time his fingers tangled in her hair as his lips sought hers. He tasted of last night and this morning's scotch, and as she bit down on his lip, she pressed the unbearable tension that had been wound up inside her against the hard, familiar contours of his body; and she finally felt some of it snap free. She closed her eyes.
"I'm still mad."
But he wanted her anger. (Wanted anything from her - her hatred, any kind of heat. He wanted it. On him). "Mm." He kissed her again. And their foreheads stayed pressed together as his heart thumped against hers, lips fused like she was the only source of oxygen in the room.
They broke apart in the end - but she took hold of his lapels to hold him in place, fingers tight. "I was looking after your drunk best friend last night, incidentally. And I mean it." Her gaze was narrowed up at him. "Don't ever do that to me again."
(Don't lie? Don't disappear?)
He didn't care, because the strength of her grip, her nails digging into the material of his jacket - it filled him relief and a sudden desparate need. Let's get out of here. Leave now. Go back to his suite or her room or anywhere where it was just the two of them. But she'd already released him, was already stepping away to smooth down her hair and head back inside.
So he clenched his jaw and followed her.
Carter had expected that coming back would be a lot of things, but he'd forgotten boring. Or maybe he just hadn't expected the boredom to sink in quite as quickly. His mother had looked at him like she didn't know who he was when he'd first appeared. (But then, when had she ever known who he was?) All it had taken was an apology, a show of manners, his place at her side as a dutiful son - and he was accepted, just like that. Because Victoria needed someone to hold her hand now that Edward was gone.
And Carter had realised as he'd sat at the front of that packed hall, staring at the huge photgraph of his father, that he didn't want to be that person. He'd always known he never wanted to be that person. To have someone depend on him -
He wanted to tell his mother to stop being so pathetic. To tell her he knew she wasn't this weak; his father had just let her be for too long. He'd wanted to feel sad that Edward was gone, not bored at the length of the service. He'd ended up scanning the faces of the gathered people in search of anything remotely interesting - and that was when he'd seen her. That was when he'd finally stopped feeling the weight of boredom, and another feeling had crushed him instead. Dread. Blair Waldorf, sitting pure and perfect as ever, with her mother - looking anywhere but at him. Her gaze had been fixed on nothing, as far as Carter could tell. An empty chair.
Sitting so still, so pale and so flawless next to Eleanor - it was like she hadn't changed at all. She was the same Blair Waldorf he'd known three years ago, right down to the tight purse of her lips. He wondered if the Blair Waldorf then could have guessed that in just three years she'd be sitting at his father's memorial service, not even speaking to him.
Had she seen him? She must have done.
He'd headed straight for her the moment the godawful service had ended, with no real idea of what he was going to say. Sorry? For a moment, as he'd held out his hand, he'd been sure she wouldn't take it. But of course good manners had won in the end. He didn't know what else he'd been expecting, really. Of course she'd taken his hand - everyone was watching. The coldness in her eyes had thrown him, even though it really shouldn't have done. It wasn't like he'd never seen that icy look before. Hell, he'd seen it plenty of times. Just not aimed at him. Not for a long, long time. He'd forgotten, he realised, what it was like to be on the receiving end of Blair Waldorf's disdain.
And now he was standing in the damn banquet hall wishing he could be anywhere else. Blair was nowhere to be seen - but he could see Serena all right. At the bar, flirting shamelessly with the guy that kept refilling her glass. And he knew Serena could see him. Knew she was watching. He should have been relieved that Blair and Serena weren't in the same room, but he couldn't help wondering where she was. She never missed events. She wouldn't have gone home, surely? He still had no idea what he wanted to say to her. Or what he hoped to gain, exactly. He'd messed with Blair Waldorf's plan. He'd abandonned her. He would be dead to her now and he knew it.
(But still he couldn't quite let go of the memory of her hand in his, or the way her eyes had used to shine when she'd looked at him. It wasn't the desperate way his mother now clung to him, or the way girls in the past had fawned over him. Because when Blair Waldorf loved you...there was nothing, he knew. Nothing fiercer than that. Except for when Blair Waldorf hated you).
He didn't know why he wanted to see her. He didn't want to. The thought of seeing her was unsettling. It would achieve nothing. He'd walked out on her, and it was too late to apologise, and she wouldn't listen anyway. Carter Baizen didn't apologise. Hadn't he made his choice? Fuck them all, he'd said on the plane. In Thailand, in Singapore. God, fuck all of them and their boring little lives.
(I love you, Carter).
He didn't want Blair Waldorf's love, didn't want to be a part of her perfect life, didn't want her smile when he took her by surprise or her headbands or the dark softness of her curls. He'd thrown it all away, and he wasn't stupid enough to think for a second that she'd let him have it back. That part of his life was over. He didn't want -
He saw Serena's gaze flicker to the doorway. Saw her toss her hair, laugh loudly.
Blair.
He turned, but she was already wrapped in conversation with his mother. An unpleasant memory flickered at the back of his mind - Blair and Victoria and a family engagement ring, a perfect wedding - but he pushed it away with a mouthful of scotch.
Blair looked good.
There was no denying it.
She'd seemed too pale and tense in the other hall - but there was something more relaxed about her features now, and it was only now that Carter started to wonder if she had changed. She appeared somehow more grown up than the girl that had squeezed his hand and squealed over pumpkin pie, though Carter couldn't figure out how. Something had changed about her.
Was it the dress? The absence of a headband?
The truth was that in all the years Carter had been going steady with Blair Waldorf, he'd been so focused on her refusal to even let him put his tongue in her mouth that he'd - what? Stopped thinking she was attractive?
No.
He'd always wanted her. But it had become a goal and a challenge instead of the simple pleasure of, well, fucking. Triumph when he'd been able to rest his hand on her thigh and she hadn't wriggled away with an anxious glance round the room. Not that Carter didn't enjoy a challenge - but in all the years he'd been with her, everything had been done with the objective of getting something. A present in exchange for a kiss. An appearance at a party in exchange for a smile. Everything he'd done with her had always been about keeping the balance - unsettling her enough to win her over and get his own way, but keeping her stable enough to keep her happy. It didn't matter how prickly or difficult she got - he always knew exactly what to say, what to do; how to make her smile and how to calm her down. How to piss her off, too, but it wasn't like that worked in his favour.
It had been a currency and an exchange they were both used to. And it had all been working towards something. He'd known that Blair would eventually sleep with him, known he'd eventually be rewarded with more than a chaste kiss on his cheek. (Though with all the women he'd slept with since, the idea of hand-holding and snuggling was so repulsive, so tedious, that he wondered how he'd ever done it with Blair.)
But now all of that was gone. And it was too strange to look at Blair and think that she wasn't his reward or his future; she wasn't his anything. She was just...a girl. An admittedly beautiful girl.
He was admiring the curve of her neck (he'd never even got to kiss her there) when he felt the eyes on him. He'd ignored Chuck's presence at her side - Chuck was always at her side, if Nate wasn't there, or at least lurking in the shadows - but now he realised that the guy was watching him, gaze narrowed.
Carter cocked an eyebrow back. No doubt Bass was pissed all that money had gone to waste. The thought made him smirk; he would've given anything to have been there when Chuck realised Carter hadn't actually left. Well, there was no time like the present to rub it in his face.
(Not to mention it placed him closer to a certain brunette).
"You look pleased to see me, Bass," he drawled as he approached. "Do you like my suit? You should," he went on, mouth curving. "You paid for it."
Chuck spared him a glance. "All that money and you couldn't find a decent tailor?"
"I've been away," Carter sighed. "What's your excuse?"
The other man regarded him with ill-disguised distaste. But, Carter realised, Chuck wasn't really paying attention to him. His focus was otherwise engaged - and Carter only realised because his was too.
On Blair.
Blair who was still talking to Victoria and quite pointedly ignoring both of them. Or at least, Carter had thought it was both of them. But then Chuck moved away without even bothering to excuse himself and caught her elbow - and murmured something in her ear, to which she actually responded. She smiled. And not her wide, fake smile either; a real one, small and secret. And then both of them were heading across the room, and Blair didn't turn once to look at Carter.
They were talking to some businessman when Carter next saw them.
So.
Chuck was marking his territory, just like he'd done with Nate. He obviously wanted Carter away from all his friends - but Carter could give a shit that Chuck and Blair used to play together in kindergarten and sometimes got wrapped up in each other's schemes. Chuck could pretend to be Carter in every other aspect - with the guys, with his parties - but he'd never get there with Blair. Hell, it wasn't like Blair would ever be his in the same way she'd been Carter's.
But for some reason the idea that Chuck even thought he could steal her too irked Carter far more than everything else he'd taken in Carter's absence.
He scoffed, anyway, at the other guy's delusion, and took another swallow of scotch. Serena smiled coolly and raised her glass to him from across the room; he pulled a face and turned away. It was going to be a long day.
Blair should have known her sense of confidence was too good to last. She'd managed to talk to Victoria without looking at Carter once - managed to beat all of the stares and show them all just how unaffected she was by the whole thing. Poised, cool, collected. Everything a Waldorf needed to be - her mother would have been proud. Although fortunately Eleanor been forced to leave due to some emergency at the atelier.
And all it took was one person to take it all away.
One blonde bombshell.
Blair froze midway through her conversation with the mayor's wife as that familiar voice sailed past her ears; as always, as all the attention left her and focused on the girl now towering over her.
Serena's smile was glowing. "B. I didn't realise you'd be here." Glowing and perfectly patronising. "I thought it would be a little difficult for you, actually, given that Carter's back..."
Subtlety had never been Serena's strong point.
"Actually," Blair started, teeth almost gritted -
"But I guess you have Chuck," Serena carried on as though she hadn't spoken. Her gaze swivelled to Chuck, standing at Blair's side. "Don't you?"
Chuck just rolled his eyes.
"Have you seen the new exhibition at the Guggenheim?" Blair addressed her question to the mayor's wife and ignored her best friend.
To no avail. "Chuck used to be my fiance, you know," Serena announced. "We were actually going to get married." Blair froze - she wouldn't. Serena looked at her with calm triumph. She would, Blair realised. It wasn't like she had a reputation to lose now anyway; she'd burned all her bridges thanks to Blair.
Blair was the only one, now, with any reputation to destroy. "I'm sure we don't need to hear-" she attempted, desperately.
"But I guess Blair has him all to herself now. Don't you, B?" Serena's expression was pure Rhodes, all empathy removed. "Isn't it convenient how that worked out?"
The mayor's wife was starting to look decidedly uncomfortable.
"Serena," Chuck purred. His eyes were slanted. "You know, I don't think we've caught up since you got back." He smiled at the mayor's wife, though his expression left little room for argument. "Excuse us." He was already directing the blonde to the opposite side of the room.
She sent Blair one last cold look before she flipped her hair over her shoulder followed him, and Blair glared icily back as she willed the feeling of nausea to subside. (And the urge to follow them, too, to somehow get between her and Chuck even though she knew Chuck was perfectly capable of looking after himself and it wasn't Chuck that Serena wanted to hurt anyway).
Unfortunately she didn't have long before the nausea returned.
"Blair."
Carter had been waiting for her irritating guard dog to disappear; but Bass was finally gone, Serena was out of the way, and the opportunity was too good to miss. He finally had her to himself.
"Can we talk?"
She was gracious to a fault, though her eyes couldn't have said no any more clearly. "What is it?"
Carter motioned the door with his head. "Outside." He stood back to let her go first - charming and arrogant as ever, because of course he assumed that she'd just do what he wanted. And of course she found herself going, even though it was the last thing in the world that she wanted.
But she reminded herself that if she refused, then it would look like weakness on her part. She needed to get this over with as quickly as possible and find Chuck, anyway.
Carter smiled and followed her out. Finally.
"So now Blair's using you to fight all her battles?" Serena accused as she picked up another glass of champagne.
Chuck's smirk back was pleasant. "Actually, I really did just want to catch up. Have you seen Nate?"
The blonde's bravado wavered almost instantly. She focused on the glass in front of her instead - anywhere but on Chuck and his question. And the thought of - "You're not going to stop me," she insisted. "You can't protect Blair forever."
"I'm fairly sure she doesn't need my protection," Chuck responded drily.
Serena frowned but didn't argue. "So this has nothing to do with you."
"I'd agree," Chuck nodded, "Except that you were the one who just dragged me into it." He arched a brow at her. "I wasn't aware that I broke your heart when our engagement was called off. Or are you trying to tell me you were actually in love with me?"
As he'd expected, she rolled her eyes. "You know I wasn't."
"Then why bring it up?"
She watched him for a moment, and then shook her head. "When I told Blair about it, I knew something was wrong. I knew she wasn't happy. I may not have known you were sleeping together," she pulled a face, "But I knew she cared about you. More than she was willing to admit. So I told her." She glared at Chuck, eyes bright even though the anger wasn't even directed at him. "I told her I'd go against what Lily wanted, ruin all our parents' plans - their stupid business deal - and tell my mom to go to hell. Blair only had to say the word." Chuck could see the hurt in her gaze, but she shook it off. Her face hardened. "And she said nothing. She told me it was all fine - and then two weeks later, I found out she'd told the entire world about me and Tripp. Including Nate. Including my mom."
There was silence for a moment. "Maybe," Chuck said at last, in a very low voice, "You don't know the whole story."
Serena just snorted. "Yes, I do. She wanted you to herself. And instead of telling me, she went behind my back to destroy me. She did exactly what Blair always does." The blonde lifted her chin. "So now I'm going to destroy her." She stared down at Chuck without really seeing him, defiant. "And there's nothing you can do about it."
Blair folded her arms tight across her chest, aware that she was standing with Carter almost exactly where she'd stood with Chuck almost an hour ago. She wanted that same anger to fortify her, to be able to face him. But instead she found herself feeling oddly hollow.
She looked at Carter and she felt...ill. Humiliated. She felt sick every time she thought of their plans together, every time she looked at that cool gaze and it hit her all over again that she could never really trust it. She could never trust him, and she had for so long. Because it couldn't have been love that she'd seen in those eyes - not when it had been so easy for him to leave. It couldn't ever have been love.
It had all been a lie, and that made her even sicker. Blair Waldorf did not get tricked; no one fooled her. And now everyone knew just how easily Carter Baizen had. Was he still laughing at her, she wondered?
But for once his expression was serious, and that unsettled her even more. "So," he murmured. "How have you been?"
Why are you asking? she wanted to scream. Why did you come back and why are you even talking to me? Why even bother? "Good," she responded evenly. "Thank you. How were your travels?"
He smile twisted. "You know."
"Not really."
He paused; he hadn't expected the conversation to go like this. He still wasn't sure what he'd expected. A temper tantrum, perhaps, now that they were alone - she'd always loved to yell at him. But they were past that now. He'd gone too far. "Well, nothing beats New York." It came out too bitter, and the cold indifference still hadn't melted from her gaze. "Blair," he paused, realising his tone was the same as the one he'd used to use - when she caught a girl flirting with him, and he raised his eyes in exasperation and waved it away, smirked at her paranoia - except this time she wasn't overreacting. "I'm sorry," he said. He wasn't sure where it had come from.
She regarded him for a few seconds. "I accept your apology." Her voice was brittle and she was already turning away. "Now, if you'll excuse me-"
"Blair, come on." He'd reached for her arm without realising it. "Cut the crap-"
She stilled. "Don't touch me." She spoke very softly, almost distantly. But her eyes were like flint when she finally looked at him. "Don't ever touch me again."
"Blair-"
"I don't want your apology." She just shook her head at him. "I don't want anything from you, Carter."
And then she was gone.
Carter's hand curled into a useless fist, left alone in the corridor. Well, that had gone great.
Chuck caught her as she was heading out the door; she didn't even need to say anything. He'd already motioned for the car to be brought around, and she was already sliding onto the leather seats.
He closed the door behind them as the car pulled away.
And then she was on his lap, hands fisted on his lapels, reaching desperately for his shirt buttons as she lost herself in him. His taste. She needed his heat to drive out the horrible sense of emptiness she'd felt from Carter's touch. She needed Chuck's hands and Chuck's mouth - Chuck's body underneath hers and his voice saying her name.
She needed to forget Carter, forget Serena. Forget the stares.
"Do you want to go home?" Chuck murmured against her lips. He'd caught her, tight. And she needed it - the simple understanding without a word..
She nodded as she buried her face into his neck, closing her eyes to breathe him in. Chuck. She needed Chuck. She needed him to need her as much as she needed him. She heard him give Arthur instructions for the Waldorf penthouse - and she shook her head, still clinging to him. Her fingers grazed his cheek.
"Your suite."
She wanted to go home.
A/N - Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews! I'm glad most people didn't seem to think there was too much Carter/Blair last chapter - and for this one, I tried to balance it out with Chair? :)
