Disclaimer: This show was not mine. I would not make people wait for MONTHS! How was the new episode, guys? Haven't gotten around to seeing it yet.
Summary: More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.
Pairings: Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D…)
Spoilers: Every chapter would center on a new episode, so…
Note: This chapter is unfortunately unbetad, which I realize could lead to all kinds of disasters and crime against the fine English language. Just a few days ago I wrote "ontology" instead of "anthology" on a paper. Yes, I know, how stupid is that? So anyway, if you see an error, please let me know. Really, it's for my own good. Also, I'm so sorry for taking so long! The show already has a season and a half on me! Stoning would be an appropriate punishment. I don't even want to see how long it's been… thanks for still reading, though!
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Chapter 9
Blair Waldorf Must Pie
"While the cat is away, the mice will play."
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It took a long, hot shower to get the Brooklyn out of her hair and ten minutes of brushing her teeth to get rid of the foul taste in her mouth from vomiting and then proceeding to eat a sandwich that was anything but delicious (contrary to what she told Serena). Blair felt refreshed and clean. Of course, she was still an ugly cow, but at least she was a clean ugly cow.
She combed her hair and took in the calming silence. She was alone. Finally alone.
Well, perhaps being alone wasn't her first choice, but… well.
It's not like she needed her father or anyone in her life. Especially people who didn't want to be in it.
It was just too bad that it seemed like no one really wanted to be in it. Serena had her glittery blond family to get reacquainted with. Blair had no such luck. Just because her mother consented to suffer through a few minutes of tea before a business call forced her into the office, didn't mean she actually enjoyed her daughter's company. Blair would have drunk pity-tea with a broken down mess like her as well, especially if she had been unfortunate enough to conceive her.
Whatever. At this point, Blair was beyond needing her mother as well.
She did need a stupid boyfriend, though. Didn't really matter who, as long as he looked good by her side whenever she needed him. Aesthetics were important, see. Also, that way she could avoid sleeping with Chuck Bass whenever he so much as tilted his head in invitation.
Ugly, fat, weak, pathetic and also a slut, to top it off. Just great.
She put on her favorite silk nightie even though she hardly saw the point in it. What she wanted to do was crawl into bed in one of her father's old t-shirts and fall asleep to My Fair Lady, if only to draw some comfort from the fact that at least in movies, filthy, inarticulate, insufferable girls got some love in the end. There was no real reason for her to groom as much as she did.
Still, though, she had to admit that the silky blue material that clung lovingly to her skin cheered her up some. If no one wanted to touch her ever again, at least she'd always have her pretty clothes to keep her warm at night.
A knock on her bedroom door disrupted the less-than-cheery direction her thoughts drifted to.
Damn it, she told Dorota no visitors! And without proper announcement as well! Clearly, Dorota wasn't her best after a whole night of tending to the party guests. Good help was so hard to find these days.
Blair flung the door open, good and ready to scream her head off at Katty or Iz or whoever the hell dared disturb her self-pity party.
Only to be faced with Chuck Bass.
CHUCK BASS!
She didn't even have any make-up on! Not to mention a robe or the amount of energy required to survive an encounter with him with her clothes on.
"Chuck!" she gasped, fighting a sudden urge to pass out.
"Blair," he greeted calmly, grinning from ear to ear. He looked her up and down and his grin widened beyond the realm of possibility. She looked scandalized and delectable and certainly worth the 10-hour-long flight he had to suffer in order to get here.
Blair straightened her back, drawing strength from what she assumed was his scrutinizing stare and derisive grin. She might not look her best but neither did he, with his wrinkled suit and mussed hair. She raked her mind for something not retarded to say.
"Aren't you supposed to be in…" What did Gossip Girl say? Not that she had looked or anything, but she happened to catch a spotted with his plans for Thanksgiving. Although, standing so close to him after the day she had was making her a bit forgetful. What was it? "Rome?" she tried faintly.
Chuck smirked, ridiculously pleased that she had bothered to check his whereabouts for this inane holiday. He closed the space between them, taking note of the way her back stiffened and her breath hitched.
"Yes," he answered silkily, tucking a stray bang of soft brown hair behind her ear. "But one should be with his loved ones during the holidays."
Blair would have melted at his words had she believed even a syllable of them. She managed to be annoyed at the blatant way he invaded her personal space instead. "Right," she said briskly, brushing his hand off. "Then why aren't you with yours?"
Chuck smiled like she was being slow and pushed her back gently, thus pushing his way into her room. Alarm bells started going off in her head when he closed the door with his foot and positioned himself directly in front of her, his lips a breath away from hers.
Honestly, considering Chuck's one-track mind, his plans for the evening weren't that hard to decipher.
Uh-oh.
He never bothered to answer her question, of course. As if he had any loved ones.
"And how is my lovely Queen B?" he asked quietly, growing bolder by the minute.
She pursed her lips and shivered slightly – whether from excitement or wariness, she'd never know. What the hell was he trying to achieve with those sweet – if disturbingly possessive – insinuations? Surely he didn't want to get any ideas in her head, did he? Blair was certainly very reluctant about even considering the possibility that Chuck Bass was anything more than a manipulative scoundrel.
Was he trying to make her fall for him so that he could control her?
Oh, not on his life.
"I'm a bit bored with this conversation," she snapped, surreptitiously wrapping her arms around herself as a shield. She might as well have been naked, with her suddenly highly inappropriate slinky nightgown.
With a stroke of genius, Chuck realized that her irritation was not entirely for his benefit. She was obviously baiting him in hopes of starting a fight and Chuck struggled to suppress his glee over the situation. She never could resist him when she was bitter. He searched his brain for a possible trigger to her delicious vicious streak.
What had gone wrong?
By all means, she should have been in the living room, happily snuggled under her father's arm with a box of tissues (for Breakfast at Tiffany's), and on the table, two plates of pumpkin pie – one half eaten and one merely nibbled on.
Yes, okay, it was not the first time he had invaded the Waldorf home at this innate and lonely holiday his father never bothered to acknowledge. Mr. Waldorf was always ever so accommodating, even in the light of his daughter's dark glares at their guest, who dared interrupt the few times a year she had her daddy all to herself.
Hmm, everything suddenly seemed so clear.
"I didn't see your father downstairs," he murmured, testing the waters.
Blair didn't disappoint and he received his well-deserved infamous Waldorf Dark Glare (Inc.). It usually took some prodding to get her this annoyed – things must have gone bad.
"What, you looked?" she hissed.
His smirk was carefully monitored. Too much would get him kicked out on the curve. Too little might seem sympathetic and put her on the defensive side – resulting with him being kicked out on the curve. He was aiming for just so. "Usually there'd be heartwarming snuggling by the fireplace, no?"
Her glare intensified but her shoulders sagged ever so slightly. It was how he knew he was winning. And if some dark corner of his seldom-used heart felt bad about using Blair's pain as a way of getting her into bed, he paid it no mind. Ultimately, he reasoned, digging her nails angrily into his back would make her feel better.
Blair wanted to sigh but that would be a blatant sign of defeat. Instead, her eyes narrowed impatiently. "Chuck, is this really what you came here for?"
"My, my, no need to be so crude, Blair," he smirked, pleased that she didn't seem as scandalized as he feared she would be. "Didn't you have a good holiday?" he pressed.
"Best ever," she answered just a sweetly. "Especially since you were away. Well, until now."
Chuck's smirk threatened to expand into a grin. This, here, was what he lived for. How sick was that? "I wonder if you thought I'd really be offended by that remark."
"I could only hope," Blair snapped.
Quick as the wind, Chuck's lips found their way to her ear. He planted a gentle kiss right under it and despite herself, she gasped at the sudden pleasure from such a simple action. It was as if she was powerless to push him away but she knew that wasn't true. She knew just what she was doing. She knew what Chuck embodied, the sweet feeling that came from losing all sense of culpability. Everything was allowed with Chuck because he didn't care, because he didn't live in the world and neither did she. Or at least, she didn't want to.
Something was wrong with her because she wanted this.
"I have no problem with you venting out your anger on me," Chuck whispered, planting another kiss on that perfect spot like only he knew how.
"I'm not angry!" she protested, jolted awake by his vulgar statement of the truth. She managed to pull away but not enough, as he held her firmly by the hips. The result was that again they stood face-to-face, eye-to-eye, lips-to-lips.
Blair wasn't sure this new position would help with the fortitude she was trying to achieve. Maybe it was better when she couldn't see him, when she was only close enough to feel his hot breath on her skin, whispering promises into it.
Maybe not.
Chuck raised his eyebrows. He didn't even have to verbally tease her about the fact that she wanted this as much as he did. She knew he noticed and he knew she knew. Such was the level of their synchronicity.
"I mean, except at you! I'm angry at you." she added quickly, frustrated. "God, you're so annoying!"
He took her hands in his, first the left and then the right. She was struck with the way it made her feel, understood and enveloped, connected and adored. It was really the smallest of gestures. Nate used to hold her hand a lot but it never felt like this. With Chuck it was like they were building a fortress only they were allowed to enter.
He chuckled, sounding surprisingly warm. "I'll have you know, annoying you doesn't always come easy."
Blair refused to soften; her bitterness still simmered too close to the surface. "Thank God for that!" she snapped, though her voice was just a tiny bit too mild for her liking.
To Chuck it was like a white flag waving over the horizon. Getting through Blair's defense shields, even the tiniest crack, pleased him more than getting a girl to strip fifteen minutes after getting her name. He became aware of the butterflies just as he realized this, after their first night when she told him to stay away from her. At the time, he had freaked out and denied it; now he was resigned.
"Tell me what happened," he urged, voice barely above the whisper.
He knew she wouldn't.
Blair felt a telling tear prickling at the corner of her eye but she refused to yield. Chuck asked her two things: to surrender her body and to surrender her heart. She had no doubt that with her heart he'd do nothing good and his motives for asking for it in the first place were questionable. Was it a trophy he wanted? A game to play? She couldn't tell. With her body, however…
He let go of one of her hands and cupped her cheek gently. Too gently. "Blair…"
"Shut up," she snarled as she grabbed a handful of unusually messy hair and brought his lips crashing against hers. She never let go of his other hand.
Chuck didn't bother to act surprised. He spent ten hours daydreaming about this and he knew it wouldn't last. She was just proving a point and would soon push him away but he didn't care, this was too good. He kissed back with equal fervor until she pulled back. Her eyes were so dark they were almost black. He could only imagine what he looked like.
"See," he murmured hoarsely, lightheaded despite himself. "This is more the welcome I had hoped for."
Blair's breath was heavy, causing her chest to rise and fell, an ever-so enticing sight that served to skyrocket his inexplicable need for her.
"I thought I told you to shut up," she said, pushing him in the direction of the bed.
Chuck smirked, his hand on her cheek lowering to her neck, her collarbone. "Gladly, if this is the reward for my silence."
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Blair opened her eyes, slowly coming back to the land of the living. Only to find herself on her bed, naked and with a naked Chuck Bass stuck to her like the best quality Falke stockings money can buy.
Panic seeped in. When had she fallen asleep? At no point was falling asleep part of the plan. The room was dark but the drapes were shut. What time was it? Why was he here? She wanted to run and hide.
Then again, she was so tired and he was warm and comfortable. How easy it would be to just sink back into him and forget who they were for a little while.
But no.
Danger.
She shoved him away from her, rousing him into consciousness. He looked at her sleepily, his hair even messier than before. Had he not been the devil incarnated, it would have been the cutest sight she has ever seen.
But he was.
She groaned. "Please tell me you didn't spend the night?"
Chuck glanced at the clock behind her head, making no move to get up. At least she exhausted him just as much as he did her. All things considered, it was quite flattering. "No, it's been an hour." He smirked and added, "Since we were done, of course."
Blair buried her face in the pillow in an effort to evaporate. "Why does this keep happening?"
"Desire that will not quench?" Chuck suggested silkily, his hand finding her thigh under the blanked and stroking it in long, languid motions that he knew she liked.
She settled back without realizing it. Her thoughts were still focused solely on what she had let happen, yet again. Sleeping with Chuck once was a mistake, twice was an inexplicable slip, three times made it a dirty habit. Worse, a pattern.
"No need to look so scandalized, Queen B," he chuckled good-naturedly. "You'll wound my ego."
She couldn't stop the amused grin that parted her lips by force. Apparently, sex had the magic ability to make him agreeable in her eyes. "Please," she scoffed, looking up at him. "Like that has ever happened and/or is even possible."
He looked way more pleased with himself than he had any right to be. "If anyone could, it'd be you."
Well, wasn't that a great way to make a girl feel special? So maybe no one would ever lover her and maybe she would always be Serena's less pretty, less fun, less adorable, less likable, less everything friend, BUT she had a good chance of hurting Chuck Bass' feelings if she really put her mind to it.
So in his eyes, and consequently the world's, she was nothing more than the evil witch, destined to live in the shadow of the fairy princess.
She lowered her eyes, feeling the knot reform in her throat.
Chuck softened immediately, the smirk dropping from his lips. "Blair," he nudged. Not Waldorf, not B, just Blair. "Blair," he nudged again. "Look at me."
She looked up, her lower lip trembling slightly.
"You know me pretty well by now, don't you?" he asked.
"Unfortunately," she rolled her eyes, no longer brittle. Simply resigned.
It would have been obvious to anyone who cared to look, that Chuck Bass was resorting to his most basic, cave-men instincts. Like girl. Like girl smiling. Make girl smile.
Otherwise known as love.
He pulled her closer, just a tiny bit. Enough for her to catch the scent of his aforementioned natural musk, mixed with his fine cologne and her soft perfume. He always did smell good. She used to like burying her face into his neck when they danced at society events. Of course, as they got older she had to stop, since it could lead to unnecessary complications and misunderstanding.
Ha!
Irony always got the last laugh.
"So you know," he continued, unaware of the whirlwind of directions her thoughts scattered to. "You know that, on rare occasions, you can just talk to me. And I'll listen quietly."
"Not anymore," she said, a bit sadly.
I've lost you now, she didn't add.
Chuck smirked knowingly. "Why, because I've seen you naked?"
"Too many times too, and in full light," she sighed.
Chuck let out an unexpected chuckle, the kind that rumbled against her skin where they were still touching and caused her to shiver.
He shook his head. "Only you would come to such a stupid conclusion that makes absolutely no sense and make it sound like general knowledge," he noted in amusement. At her annoyed glare, he asked quietly: "What happened?"
His tone of voice was the last straw. Like the camel in the story she felt herself folding, cracking under the pressure. He won this time.
"He didn't come to see me," Blair answered, even quieter. The words were out before she agreed to set them loose. "He didn't even call."
Chuck stiffened immediately, any and all traces of amusement slipped from him. This he didn't want to hear; this he didn't want to help her with. "… Nate?" he sighed, almost inaudibly.
Blair rolled her eyes like it was the stupidest thing she ever heard. "Not Nate, my father. I haven't seen him for a year and he didn't even see fit to call me?"
He sagged against her in relief but tried not to show it. He almost blurted a 'that's it? Thank God!' but fortunately managed to stop himself at the last minute. That would have fallen on deaf ears and gotten him shoved off the bed. While the most he could hope from his father was a frosty acknowledgement that he fathered him in the first place (by calling him 'son' on occasions), he knew Blair relied on her father to attest to her beauty and brains, her worth as a person.
The year without him or Serena had been a trying year indeed. For others, of course. Chuck had enjoyed to no end the seething bitch that Blair turned into seemingly overnight. Nate never appreciated it much, on the other hand. He used to complain about Blair going on and on about things like destruction and humiliation, plotting against anyone who so much as looked at her in a way that didn't sit well with her.
Obviously Chuck, as an active part in most of those plots, didn't really see the problem.
In those days no one had been safe.
And this year, with Serena back but with a luggage of trouble the size of Canada, this year has been volatile for everyone. He could only imagine how much she needed her precious daddy.
Actually, he didn't even have to imagine it. She had been quite verbal about it before Thanksgiving.
"Why wouldn't he call?" he frowned. Harold Waldorf was nothing if not nurturing.
"Oh, you'll love this part," Blair spat. "Because my mother told him I didn't want him to. And he believed her without even questioning it. Does that even sound like something I would do?"
Chuck smirked. "In a heartbeat."
"But he's my father!" she insisted, scowling.
Chuck took advantage of the fact that she was distracted by her vehemence to pull her closer until she was flush against him. He released a secretive little sigh of contentment at the contact. "You know how convincing Eleanor Waldorf can be," he reasoned. "She convinces you about everything."
Blair's gaze shot up to connect with his. "No, she commands me. Big difference. It doesn't matter, anyway. Even if he did believe her, he should have come and set things straight. He should have fought for my forgiveness. Isn't that what fathers do? Doesn't he care that I supposedly hate him?"
By now she was close to tears and too hurt to care that he was watching.
"Maybe flying makes him sick," he suggested softly.
Blair's glare would have made babies cry and dogs run away. "Really, Chuck? That's the best you can do?"
He swallowed hard and braced himself. "I can't think of another reason why someone wouldn't drop everything and travel half the globe just so that they could wish you a happy Thanksgiving," he said softly, disbelieving himself but too far gone to care. He tipped her chin upwards so that she was forced to look at him. "I did."
Blair stared, shell-shocked to the core. Such a romantic, dizzying statement could not have been issued for her by Chuck effing Bass. These were the sort of statements Serena got to hear from the love sick puppies that followed her around wherever she went. No one would do something like that for Blair Waldorf – they would have to be demented.
Then again, Chuck Bass was certainly that.
His eyes were soft but his jaw firm, in response to her obvious skepticism.
Blair was moved beyond comprehension. Her lungs refused to transfer oxygen to her brain. One could even say she was swooning. She couldn't stop the horde of butterflies that got loose in her stomach – now she understood how Chuck must have felt. That Basstard always knew just what to say, didn't he?
She knew she'd start crying unless she did something so she kissed him, hard, positioning herself over him for better access.
Everything slipped away. Suddenly they were alone in the world. It was magnificent.
"Well played, Bass," she breathed, smirking, almost jovial now.
"I know you, Waldorf. Blair." His voice was silk against her skin, deadly in its seriousness. He liked making breathy declarations when they were in these compromising positions, she noticed. "I know you, backwards and forwards." Their lips met briefly, desperate to taste. "I know you've hated me until just now," he murmured softly. "I know you're still a little disgusted by this. Nothing that can't be healed with a bit time."
His words struck her with their honesty. It was true; she couldn't hate him anymore for making her lose control, for helping her escape. She couldn't blame him. She couldn't love him for it, either.
She looked at him shyly from under her eyelashes. "Does that mean you're planning to stick around?" she asked, more vulnerably than she would have liked.
Chuck simply returned her gaze, not answering. She realized that type of declarations was a bit too much for the unholy Chuck Bass. However, the fact that he didn't immediately break into vehement denials and run away spoke volumes. Instead, one of his hands found hers again and closed around it. A silent promise to adore her for just a little while longer.
Blair's lips parted in a smile. Chuck's cheeks reddened damningly and it only caused her smile to widen.
She swallowed back the last of her reservations and asked:
"Spend the night?"
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