Chapter Eight

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"And I don't know where we are going
but we're here on this ride
and we'll stand side by side
all along the way."
'There Will Be A Way,' Bad Religion

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She falls asleep on his shoulder and though he feels the slightest smidgen of guilt at rousing her, he's growing restless from staying in the same position for so long and he's certainly not about to carry her to his room, so that only leaves one option.

Besides, she keeps saying she detests being treated like a china doll, so she can walk herself.

She blearily opens her eyes, rubbing at them as she wakes, looking around the space with a confused expression.

"Why am I here?" she asks, suspicious. "And why is it dark out?"

"It's called nighttime," Chuck quips, edges of his lips quirking upwards, "It's what happens when you sleep the remainder of the day away on my shoulder – if you've left drool marks, the dry cleaning is definitely on you this time."

Belle shoots him a look with the retort, "Like you'd have even let me stay asleep on your shoulder if I was drooling on you."

"That's true." He smirks. "I would ask how you know that's not why I woke you, but that seems fairly transparent, since apparently I value my wardrobe more than your feelings."

"Yes, it does," she agrees, and then takes pleasure in observing, "Although, you should really think about investing in some other clothes," she looks him up and down as he sits next to her, still impeccably decked out in his dark suit from earlier. "Baby is definitely going to drool on that."

"Baby will do no such thing," he refutes, smoothing down his tie and readjusting his lapels.

"We'll see," she comments, with a cluck of the teeth and a wink.

"I don't think we're supposed to be exploiting our child for our own personal gain quite so early on," he remarks.

She rolls her head to the side and sends him a look, "Please, like you've not spent most of your time thinking about how you can use your newfound status as a dilf to score with the ladies."

He grimaces, "I've let you hang around Nate too much."

She lets out a low, tired laugh that gets cut off with a yawn and she reaches out to grasp his wrist, tilting her head to make out the clock-hands on his watch. She groans when she realizes the time.

"You should stay," he tells her, because it's the most logical option with the least amount of energy expenditure needed to be carried out.

"Or you could get your man to drive me back to Dom's," she counters.

"Or you could stay," he repeats. "Besides," he reminds her, "You're not even staying there right now, remember?"

She scowls at the reminder and then it fades as she seems to contemplate his offer for a moment, "You're not going to stick me with the couch, are you?"

He smirks. "While the thought had crossed my mind, especially after that horrible dilf comment," she smiles tiredly at that, "I think I can stretch to providing you with a bed for the night," he lifts one shoulder, motioning with his hands, "given that you are carrying my child and I'd rather have you well-rested and comfortable than cranky and in dire need of a massage."

"I dunno," she trails off, testing the cushions with both hands then, a mischievous look on her face, "Sofa doesn't seem that bad, and having you foot the bill for a day of pampering does sound rather appealing."

He chuckles and then stands, holding out his hands to take hold of hers and pull her up as well.

"You only have two bedrooms," she says as he starts to lead her round the sofa, "And Nate's already in his."

"I imagine you'll cope in my bed for one night," he says, opening the door and gesturing with a sweeping arm for her to enter.

"I don't know about that," she remarks, looking from the bed to her baby bump and back to him.

"Well, I'm not sleeping on the couch," he says, putting stop to that idea because he's simply not.

She releases a laugh. "Right, because that thought crossed my mind."

He nudges her forward, fitting her with a look. "Just get in the bed already."

"Gosh, so pushy," Belle pretends to be scandalized as she jumps forward at his touch, her lips twisting in amusement, "You've already knocked me up, Bass, you don't need to prove you're good for it again."

Chuck shakes his head at her and turns to close the door behind them.

"So," she looks to him expectantly with a grin that makes him wonder why he didn't just have his limo take her home. "Which side is yours?"

"All of it," he replies.

She mock scowls at him. "Fine," she rephrases, mouth curving again already, "Which side is mine?"

"You know, I'm beginning to think you would be more suited to the couch," he quips.

"I presume you're going to provide me with something to wear?" she merely responds to that instead.

He arches a brow. "And you'd have me believe that I'm the pushy one?"

She flops down on the right side of the bed, his side of the bed, and starts to reach to remove her shoes as he pulls out a set of pajamas for her to wear.

"Would you like the use of the bathroom, or are you going to undress in front of me too?" he asks, and then frowns as he observes her current struggle.

She gets frustrated with the task quickly and extends her leg forward, directing a half-pleading look his way. "Do it for me, would you?"

He raises an eyebrow and she just huffs, looking about as put out as he feels.

"How did you even get them on if you can't take them off?" He makes quick work of the buckles round her ankles, placing her grey wedges against the skirting and turning back to face her, "And why are you wearing such high heels when you're pregnant anyway?"

"I'm tired, leave me alone," she grumbles instead and she pushes herself to her feet, grabbing the pajamas as she rises, from where he'd left them on the comforter as he set about his task. "And they look good."

"So you'll risk tripping over your ankle, breaking your neck and crushing our baby because they look good?" he asks; because he's all for fashion and style and looking good, but this is a whole different matter.

She scowls at him. "Now you sound like Dom, stop it. I'm perfectly capable of walking in slightly raised shoes," he scoffs at that; he'd wager she averages on five inches of added height every outing, "and our baby is totally safe inside me."

"It better be," he mutters, and his eyes hone in on her stomach where it lies.

"Shut up, it is," she nudges him out the way as she moves towards the bathroom, "And while I've no doubt you'd just love having the satisfaction of getting me naked in your presence once again, I have this little inkling that this time might be just a tad different from last, so I'll spare you the strip tease."

"How thoughtful of you," he responds though his eyes never stray from her figure as she shimmies across the threshold.

"What can I say?" she calls back, turning and then shutting the double doors between them with a flyaway grin, "I'm all heart."

.

She wakes with a start, curling in on herself like it's instinctive.

"Belle?" he murmurs in the darkness, stirring with the movement.

"I'm ok," she assures him quietly.

"Are you sure?" he asks, because he's not entirely convinced.

"Yeah – "

Her words are cut off with a hiss and he pushes himself up, craning his neck to look over her shoulder.

"No, no, it's fine, it's just – " she starts to refute his concerns as she feels the mattress move around her and then she's apparently struck with an idea.

She reaches back and pulls his arm around her, placing his hand beneath the silk of her nightwear and flat against the soft skin of her midriff.

"You feel that?" she asks, her hand splayed out over his.

Almost immediately the quick, sharp flurry of movement relaxes to a slow wave under his influence.

He nods, all he can do when he finds words have left him.

She sighs contentedly and sinks into the pillows once more, her body unfurling as the restlessness eases from the inside.

"Baby listens to you already."

There's slight amusement in her words, coupled with a twinge of amazement, and he thinks he can make out her smile like an eclipse; overshadowed by his own.

He can still feel the slight shuffle and flow beneath his palm and it's the strangest feeling, because this is his child, he created this being and – this tiny thing that demands attention all hours of the day and night and calms when he's around, when he offers his touch; this is his, his and hers, but… it's really his and – he's going to be a father.

He feels a small jump beneath his fingers; Hell, he's already a father.

And it hits him that this is really happening; this isn't a case of what-if he's playing through his head or a scenario he's thought up to preempt a suitable reactionary outcome. This is real and he's honestly scared shitless.

He's a father. He can see his child move around its little bubble, can feel it as it grows while wrapped up safely in its cocoon.

He's going to be responsible for this little person, and he knows he'll love it and ensure he's everything his own father wasn't to him; but there's a niggling, terrible thought inside him of what is he can't be, and what if he doesn't and what if he isn't?

There's no going back now; this is it and he really, truly, does not want to mess this up.

This is one thing he can't afford to do wrong; he can't lose his child, he won't.

(He lost hers and then he lost her and he thought he'd lost everything, but somehow this came along and now it's all he has, so he can't, he won't, lose this too.)

He stays awake for the rest of the night, while mother and child sleep beneath his protective hand and he's suddenly, utterly terrified of never being a part of their lives.

There's nothing quite like it, no feeling like he's ever experienced before and he wants this; more than anything he wants this.

And he knows, with absolute certainty, complete resolve; this time he's never letting go.

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"So I was thinking," he announces over the table, as he fills her glass and hands it across to her, "We should probably start looking for a place as soon as possible. It'll be more difficult after the baby's born and I don't know how quickly mothers are supposed to recover, but I can't imagine you'll be up for moving and redecorating right after the birth so that means – "

"Hold on," Belle raises her hand to stop him, puts the tumbler on the table and asks him to clarify, "Chuck, what are you on about?"

"I think we should live together," he tells her quite simply and then takes a swig of his drink. "I've already got the realtor lining up a few properties for us to look at, so as soon as you're ready we can start viewing them and decide which one is most suitable."

Her eyebrows lift as she watches him, silverware caught in her grasp. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he queries, calmly crossing his leg over the other and replacing his own glass on its coaster.

"I don't know, maybe because we can barely breathe the same air for any length of time without annoying one other?" is her first suggestion, followed closely by, "Because we couldn't even agree on the simpler points in the contract over how to raise our baby? Because I already have a place to live and so do you?"

"You live with your brother in an apartment you refuse to acknowledge as your own, and I share the penthouse suite in my hotel with my best friend," he responds, "What part of that sounds like the most conducive environment to raise a child in?"

"Alright," she concedes to his point.

He stands to go and fill the feeding tray as his four-legged-pet pads into the kitchen area, reaching him as he places it on the wooden floor for him to enjoy.

"What's your dog's name?" Belle asks.

"Monkey," he replies, with a faint smile, scratching behind the dog's ears.

"See? I didn't even know that," she remarks.

He finds that somewhat difficult to believe. He wipes his hands on the hand-towel and then drops it back to the counter, making his way back to the table. "So now you're basing your refusal to live with me on the fact you didn't know my dog's name?"

"No, I'm basing my refusal on the fact that we don't know each other," she tells him, and her utensils still in her hands, she punctuates her words with gestures they make, "For all you know I could be allergic to dogs."

"Are you?" he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

"No."

"Well, what's the problem?"

"Oh my word!" Belle cries out, frustrated. "The problem is we don't even know each other, Chuck! And what we do know we find annoying – so in what world could us living together possibly work?"

"Our world," is his simple response.

"Now I know you're mad," she tells him, and stresses her point by stabbing her fork into the grape that lies at the top of her mountainous bowl of fruit.

"Because I want my child's parents to reside under one roof?" he questions, in a tone that suggests she's the one who's not thinking rationally right now.

She fits him an unimpressed look. "Because you want two people who just happen to be sharing this life-changing event to reside under one roof. Chuck, we don't know each other."

"And what better way to get to know each other than by living together?" he reasons, reaching across and stealing a grape from her collection, popping it into his mouth a second later.

"Look, you have a job that's supposed to keep you busy all day and I… well right now, I don't, but that doesn't mean just because I don't seem to have to fit my life into a schedule that I want to spend all my time with you," she tells him, and then realizes how harsh that might've come across and adds, "Sorry."

"And what if I want to spend all my time with you?" he counters, savoring the last taste of the juicy fruit on his tongue.

"Except we both know you don't," she replies, "And anyway what's going to happen if we get with other people?"

He frowns and makes a face at that. "Who are you planning on getting with? I thought you didn't know anyone here."

"Thanks for reminding me," she rolls her eyes, "And you know what I mean. I'm still in love with Crispin, though my little jaunt across the Atlantic and insistence on raising my baby with its biological father even after he was all set to play Daddy could be interpreted as evidence to the contrary. And you're still in love with Blair, even though you're not with her because… of… reasons… "

"She married a Prince," he mutters the reminder, "Even when I begged her not to."

"Oh yeah, that's right," she says, her voice deliberately neutral.

"And made a pact with God after I nearly died that she was insistent should keep up apart," he continues.

"So she did," she answers; that story was certainly interesting.

"And now she's off playing loft-lover to Humphrey the Brooklynite who I have Serena to thank for bringing into our lives and Lily to thank for ensuring he remained part of them even when I thought my sister had come to her senses and ditched the prick," he says, and his frustration with everything that happens is obvious, although he allows for the point, "Although he did leave me Monkey as a parting gift, so I suppose you can take that however you want to."

"Yeah… so… when your girl finally comes back to her senses and wants to speed off into the sunset with you in your limo, or ride up in the lift together to your penthouse suite, do you really think what that reunion needs is me standing by your front door with our child in my arms waiting to greet you?" She shakes her head, a mildly sympathetic expression on her face. "Just throwing it out there, but I can think of better welcome home parties than that."

"Look, whatever happens in the future, is just that – in the future. All I know is you're having my child and I want to be there when you do," he tells her straightforwardly, and she has to concede that the man makes a good point. Now. "You wanted me to be a part of our kid's life, well I want us to live together to make that possible."

She sighs. "I'm not going to change your mind on this, am I?"

"No."

Belle nods, and Chuck can hear the acceptance in her tone the moment she starts to speak, "Well then I guess all I have to say is that there better be some sort of garden for our child to run around in, because I can't see us having them in the park every day and they need to get the fresh air from somewhere in this city."

He smiles, drawn-out but true, "I think we can just about stretch to that."

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"Charles," a female voice calls out, the sound of her heels on the floor reaching them before she does. "What's this I hear about you buying an apartment?"

"Lily." He steps around the pool table to greet her. "I didn't realize the news would travel that fast, we haven't even started viewing the prospective properties yet."

The blonde resists the urge to raise her eyebrow at his use of 'we', instead smiling indulgingly at him; he should know better by now, she's as good as finding out information as he is, though she doesn't divulge how she knew.

"What's wrong with this place?" she asks, gesturing to the space around them.

"It's no longer suitable for what we need," he tells her, choosing his words carefully.

This time the elder does raise her eyebrow, questioning, "We?"

"You must be Chuck's mother," Belle observes with a smile, moving over to his side.

"Stepmother actually," Lily corrects.

The brunette turns to him, confused. "I thought you said she adopted you?"

"She did," he answers, "after she married my father."

"And that's different to adopting you before marrying him?" Belle inquires, not trying to be cruel by questioning their terms, merely curious.

"We use them interchangeably," Chuck offers by way of explanation, even though he's never really contemplated how he refers to Lily before; everyone who matters already knows what she is to him, what she means to him. There's never been any need to explain it, their relationship. He watches Belle nod, apparently accepting this, and wonders if it's possible she might already understand.

"I'm sorry, and you are?" Lily interrupts, looking to the brunette with an expectant look on her face.

"Right, you don't know me, sorry, I'm Mirabel," she strikes out a hand, that easy smile on her face once more, "Mira. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bass."

"It's Humphrey now, actually." The elder takes the proffered hand, society smile in place. "And you know my son how exactly?"

"We met in Maui," is the easy response, "I was there on holiday with my brother when Chuck and Nate stopped by on their flying visit before moving on to LA."

"I see," Lily intones, "So this you returning the favor with a short visit of your own, is it?"

"Not exactly," Belle utters and then takes a deliberate step back, turning to tell him, "I did Nate and Serena; your Mum's all yours."

"Lily," he strides forward, his palms sliding together as he attempts to find the words that will best describe what's going on.

"Oh, Charles," the blonde speaks for him; apparently already well aware of what he's about to say, though she looks at him almost pleadingly to refute her thoughts, "Tell me you didn't."

"He did," a certain brunette answers for him, nodding.

He shoots her a look. "I thought you were staying out of this one?"

"I'm sorry!" She shrugs, looking mildly apologetic. "I couldn't help it."

Chuck shakes his head at her, and then turns back to the Lily, taking a breath and then releasing in one go: "Belle's pregnant. It's mine."

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Belle pipes up, and then at his look shirks away, hands held up in defense. "Right, sorry, staying out of it."

"Are you sure?" Lily questions, "I mean, after everything that's happened, are you certain it's yours?" She looks to the younger as she adds tightly, "Nothing against you personally, you understand, it's just sometimes very easy to get so wrapped up in what someone else is telling you that you don't bother to fully corroborate what they're saying."

The brunette just waves her off; they've moved on from those early instances of distrust and skepticism, with the point of the day being the fact they're now going to live together. Dear God. "Oh, no bother, totally understand. Plus, I've had it all already. This is nothing new."

"We had a paternity test done and I also had the results compared with those from the amniocentesis that Belle got back home," he informs the blonde. "The baby's definitely mine, Lily."

"You had amnio done as well as a paternity test?" Lily asks of the younger, because that's more than she would've asked for; at least at this stage.

"It was to test for CF since my ex and I are both carriers," Belle explains, "We wanted to be at least a little prepared, although there was a 25% chance the baby would be completely clear of it. Except even when the doctor told me that was the case, something just didn't sit right so he tested for the paternity and I realized the reason the baby was completely clear of CF was because Crispin wasn't the biological father, so that meant it had to be Chuck, and now here we are."

"Indeed," the blonde murmurs.

Nobody speaks for the longest moment and then Lily steps forward and engulfs Chuck in a hug.

"Oh Charles," the elder bemoans, sending him a look as she pulls away, "I can't believe you're making me a grandmother at this age."

He smiles despite himself, and remarks, "Serena's won't forgive me for letting her miss this."

"Serena?" the blonde questions, raising an eyebrow and looking at him expectantly, "She knew, and she didn't tell me? She's known all this time yet you're only telling me now?"

"That would be my fault," Belle owns up to that one, complete with raised hand, as she looks somewhat bashful at the memory of how she'd gone about it. "I sort of dropped the bombshell on her and Nate pretty much right after I'd done the same to Chuck."

She looks apologetically over at him and then turns back to other woman with a small, but genuine smile.

"He wanted to make sure we went about it the right way with you," and then there's that rueful look on the brunette's features, "Although I suppose I sort of ruined that one too. Sorry."

"Didn't want me having a heart attack on top of everything else when I walked in on you, is that it?" Lily quips a beat later.

Belle nearly chokes, but Chuck just smiles, near laughing.

"It's not like that," he reassures her easily, "We're not together."

"Oh God no!" is the exclamation from the brunette by his side and he can't decide whether to roll his eyes at her dramatics or scowl at her immediate reaction.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just assumed – " Lily gestures between the two, looking pointedly at Belle's attire.

" – because I'm too lazy to change into my own clothes from his that means we're sleeping together?" Belle surmises. "No. Once was quite enough, thank you very much."

Chuck clears his throat at her count, which is horribly off by anyone's standards nevermind his, and she rolls her eyes at him.

"Once was most definitely enough," she repeats, with added emphasis on the first word.

He dips his head as his lips curve in his amusement.

"I was just tired and Chuck offered to let me stay here for the night in a purely platonic, I'm-exhausted-from-his-spawn-stealing-all-my-energy kind of way," Belle explains. "Nothing else. I can assure you."

"Right," Lily accepts with a smile. "Of course."

"What can I say? Chivalry isn't quite dead after all," he remarks, looking pleased with himself. "And I'm enjoying taking part in its revival."

The blonde sends him a look, like she knows he's only saying it to get a reaction and he really shouldn't do such things; for all of their sakes.

Case in point, Belle responds with, "It would've been more chivalrous of you had you not gotten me pregnant in the first place, but I suppose a girl can't have everything, can she?"

"No, she can't," he returns, with a tight smile that's just as mockingly sweet, "Not when she's already getting a home and monthly child support payments coming her way."

"Hey!" the brunette disputes his phrasing, not to mention his tone, "I never asked you for that, in fact you were the one so keen on moving in together. I'm quite happy as we are. Living separate lives."

"Well, since I'm the one with all the money, I get to decide where our child lives," is his smarmy retort.

She rolls her eyes, muttering through clenched teeth, "You and your bloody money."

There's not as much malice in the statement as there had been previously, when she'd actually been adamant he was trying to buy her, and admittedly that was sort of exactly what he had been trying to do. Now it's more mild frustration and grudging acceptance, and she responds to it like he's a dog with a bone that he's never going to let go of.

"And on that note," he turns to direct to the blonde, "It's a townhouse, Lily, not an apartment."

"Naturally," the elder comments, humoring him.

"Wait, what?" Belle takes that moment to question.

"You said it had to have a garden," Chuck replies, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and the answer to any and all of what she's about to say.

"Yeah, thinking you'd jus' go for something with a terrace on the roof like you have here," the brunette tells him, eyeing him like she had earlier when this topic had first been brought up, and she was sure he'd become even more deranged overnight, "Not a full-blown back yard with grass and a patio or whatever."

"You said garden, I'm going for a garden," is his simple response to that, throwing his arms up in the air like he's asking what more he can do here. "Townhouses have gardens."

"I really don't want to know how much this is costing, do I?" Belle deduces from that, grimacing slightly.

"I thought you wanted this?" is his answer to that, because if they've been over it once, they've been over it a thousand times; money is not an issue for him, its overabundance is just part of his life.

"What part of our conversation ever gave you that impression?" she asks, shaking her head at him. "I mean, seriously? Enlighten me, please."

"Now you're being ungrateful," he tells her, unimpressed.

"And you're being unreasonable," she snaps back, face mirroring his.

"You said you wanted a garden so our kid would have somewhere to play in the fresh air without having to go to the park all the time," he repeats, because she'd said exactly that and all he's doing is giving it to her; where is the problem here? "A townhouse is the most sensible option," he reasons, because it is, not to mention: "I'm not about to risk their life by having them run around on a roof twenty storeys in the air. That's just asking for them to try and play Superman."

"Maybe they'd be more like Icarus and try and reach the sun," Belle offers in suggestion, "Since they'd be so flipping high up in the sky in one of your penthouse roof gardens."

Lily watches the pair with vested interest. They make for an odd, yet entertaining, coupling; though she doubts that's their intention.

"So, we're agreed on the townhouse with the garden then, yes?" Chuck concludes smugly.

Belle heaves a sigh, relenting, "Fine, since you've clearly put so much thought into this, we'll go for the townhouse with the garden."

He smirks, triumphant. "Not that you were getting much choice in the matter."

"No, I got that," she remarks, having deduced as much early on, humoring him with a smile.

Lily clear her throat when she senses a gap in their exchange with interest, "Charles, can I speak with you a minute?"

"Of course," he responds easily, instantly, directing to the brunette like his upbringing instills, "Excuse us."

"Sure," Belle returns, not bothered. "I should go make myself presentable anyway."

"Yes, you have been lounging around in my pajamas for the better part of the day now," he comments, casting a glance over her attire, chastising, "That's hardly the way to behavior when we have guests visiting."

"I see we're back to trading barbs," she says to that, flashing him a humorless smile. "I'm so glad we've managed to attain a sense of normalcy throughout all this."

He chuckles and calls over, "I had Arthur collect some clothes from your apartment."

"You mean you didn't just buy me some new ones?" she returns, mock hurt and surprise displayed across her face, as she pouts back at him, "That's really disappointing, Chuck. And here I thought you were going to be generous with your cash."

He shakes his head at her, sending an eye roll her way. "Go get ready."

Her laughter is the gift she leaves them with as she moves to do just that.

.

"Charles, what's this really about?" Lily inquires when it's just the two of them alone in the space.

"What do you mean?" he asks evenly, turning slowly to face her.

"Well, I can see that girl in there is committed to having you as part of your child's life, and yet she's not pushing for you two to live together," she observes, and then poses the question she really wants the answer to, "So, why are you?"

"I felt it would be the best environment for our child," he replies, like this is what he's been going over in his head. It's not that it's not the truth; it's just not the whole truth.

"Is that so?" she queries, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

He crinkles his brow, his words affected in the same manner, "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"It's not," she tells him, because it's not; indeed it's a very Charles thing to do. A slow smile turns her mouth, "But I know my son."

He purses his lips, stays silent for the moment and that's how she knows she's right.

"What else is going on here, Charles?" Lily beseeches him softly, "Why do you want to live with her so badly?"

"I – " he starts and then stops himself just as quickly.

"Are you afraid she's going to leave? Is that what this is?" she asks, eyebrows only lifting so far as the questions leave her tongue, "Your way of ensuring she'll commit to letting you be a part of your child's life?"

"No, I know she won't, and she will let me be a part of it, I – " he replies almost flippantly, and then breathes out a short laugh, "Even without the contract I'm pretty sure she's not going anywhere, that I'm stuck with her now."

Lily nods; understands that, could've understood the others. "Then what's the problem?"

"I just don't want to miss out on anything," he finally admits.

When he turns his head to look at her, emotion swims in his eyes and she can hear the belief in his words; everything within him is telling him this is how he ensures he's not like Bart, that this is how he can be there for his child.

"My father was never there for me – "

Lily opens her mouth to refute this claim, because she lived that life too and just because you aren't there, doesn't mean you don't care; but he continues before she can even get a well-formed word out.

"He might've known what was going on, but he was never really there for any of it," he refines his point, because this is what he means: if he's there, there's no question over whether he cares or not and he will, he does; she doesn't need to be looking into the eyes of her own son to know that this man before her is determined to love his child. "I don't want that for mine. I want to be there, I want to know what's going on; I want them to know that I'm there and I know what's going on. I want my child to know me."

"But they will," she assures him; because a world in which the offspring of Chuck Bass is unaware of their father's presence, his prowess, is not one she can even imagine; especially not when she tries to couple the thought with the look on his face as he stands before her now; "You don't need to set up home with their mother to know your child, Charles."

"I know," he answers, exhaling; and she believes him.

Except this is when she realizes that there's more to this. It's not just what he deems a proactive move that will cancel out the possibility of reenacting many of the instances he lived through, or didn't as the case may be, with his own father. It's a move that should both safeguard and promote the reoccurrence of whatever it is that's happened to have him so motivated.

"But – last night," he divulges, takes a breath, licks his lips, "Last night the baby was moving around and it kicked Belle so hard it woke her up – and she – " he frowns as he recalls the moment, but it's not disapproval, rather he's still trying to comprehend what transpired, " – she reached over and took my hand and placed it on her stomach and I felt it," his whole face is alight, amazement and marvel and pride; and in that instant he's never looked quite so remarkable, she's never seen such an incredible sight; "I felt it kick, I felt my baby move beneath my palm."

"Oh Charles," she breathes out because her son, her boy, is so beautiful as he relives the moment, her emotions manifest as one to try and let her experience it with him.

"I know I won't be there for all of it, last night was different, whether we live together or not, we're not going to be sharing a bed, we're not together… and yet we are; and if I can help it, if I can be there for some of it, surely that's better than nothing?"

"You really want this, don't you?" Lily deduces with a soft smile.

"I really do," he confirms, an admission in itself.

"Then, of course, I'm here for you, Charles," she assures him, stepping towards him and grasping him by the shoulders, cupping his face, as she affirms, "Whatever you need."

"Thank you, Lily," he says, the corners of his mouth lifting, "That means a lot."

"I mean it," she reinstates her promise, not letting go of the vow she's making to her son, "Anything."

He nods and permits his own response to her embrace then, smiling into the curve of her shoulder.

"Well, I'd appreciate you not telling Rufus about this just yet," he manages when they pull apart, "Or at the very least, ask him to refrain from telling his son, who'll no doubt jump at the chance to tell Blair and – "

"You've not told Blair yet?" she asks, and in her confusion she unintentionally holds him at arm's length.

"No, and I have no intentions of doing so until everything is settled with Belle," he responds, in a tone that tells her he doesn't see how anyone can question such logic and he has no intentions of changing his mind even if they do.

She can't help herself. "Charles, don't you think it would be better – "

She reaches for him, but he deftly twists out if her grasp.

"I think it would be better if I didn't have to deal with a Waldorf inquisition right now," he tells her and it comes out as something close to a sneer, so she imagines this has been a hot topic already; apparently he's had enough of considering Blair over anyone else, at least for the immediate time being, "So I plan to avoid it as long as humanly possible."

"You know she's going to find out," Lily reasons with him in a gentler tone.

"Naturally," is Chuck's reply, aiming for nonchalance because it's the truth, but falling into the trap of knowledge from memory instead, "It's Blair."

"Well, so long as you realize the fallout will likely be worse if she has to hear it from someone other than you," she warns, because if living here has taught them anything it's that secrets will always come out and when they do the people you've been trying to protect all along are usually the last to offer forgiveness.

"She's currently shacked up in Brooklyn with your husband's son, Lily; I can't imagine how my current situation will in any way derail that. If anything, it'll most likely just push her further into his arms when she hears of how I ruined another girl's life, and she realizes she was lucky to get away when she did."

"Is that what Mirabel says you did?" she asks; because only a moment ago he was talking so hopefully about his life with his child, she doesn't want to be the one to derail that by suddenly sending him into a pit of self-loathing.

"Mira," he insists, says in quieter voice, "Only her Mom called her by her full name, she just can't get rid of the habit on introduction. And no," his lips twist ruefully, "Well, only when I piss her off, which is fairly often, so I suppose, the answer is yes."

"Charles, she'd be lucky to have you," is her answer to that and there's no doubt she's referring to Blair now. "And you should know; I'll always be rooting for my son, so long as whomever he wants to be with makes him happy."

"She's with Dan, right now," he says, like he's been saying it repeatedly in the hope that maybe one of these times it'll be enough for it to make sense, except it doesn't; it won't.

Lily nods. "I know."

"And I'm having a baby with someone else," he says, and there's marvel in his voice because he still can't quite believe it; this is happening to him and he doesn't just want it, he's actively seeking it out.

"I know," she repeats in that same soft, but steady tone.

He takes a step back and drops to the seat, lifts his hands to his face and exhales between them.

"I don't know what to do," he confesses with a shake of the head, and it never fails to amaze her how honest he can be; and how his words can travel the length of time and space so easily even when the admission is tied so tightly to the weight of his soul.

"Yes you do," she insists, placing herself right alongside him and taking his hand decisively in hers.

He turns to look up at her and she smiles, nods, determined.

"You're going to do what you said you would. You're going to be there for your child, and you're going to concentrate on being the best father that I know you can be," she tells him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, her eyes shining, "And your family is going to be there for you. Every step of the way."

He'd once made a promise to be there for her, this is hers to him; and more than anything she's determined to see this through.

"You do that, and those that love you will be right there alongside you," she assures him, "Helping to shape your future."

"Thank you, Lily."

"Anytime, Charles."

.

TBC…


I feel sorta bad, like I'm playing the role of one of the GG Writers and throwing every possible obstacle at CB to keep them apart. Rest assured, there can and will be resolutions lol and I know I said there would be Blair in this chap, but I got carried away with the Lily inclusion (really carried away given the final length of this chap). Blair is DEF in the next one though, which I'll try have up tonight, and there's even CB interaction! Wahay lol

Thanks for reading, your thoughts are always appreciated :)
Steph
xxx