A/N: Actually submitting on time this week. Go me. Ok, so another pre-series one that seems really familiar to other ones I've written. So...sorry about that.
Summary: She hadn't heard from him in a week, and she knew that didn't bode well for her. He was a calculating, manipulative bastard, and no one knew that better than a calculating, manipulative bitch.
Disclaimer: All quotes and inspiration go to GG, my beautiful muse. Give awesomeness to comewhaymay.x who continues to beta me:)
Mortar-And-Pestle
You know today's the first day of Constance. Do you remember?
How you used to mortar-and-pestle all those spirits?
He missed her. He hated himself, and he was full of self-loathing as he even thought about it, but walking towards the steps of Constance, he almost felt...excited.
It had been so long since he had felt any emotion that wasn't simply selfish pleasure, painful rejection from his father, and, yes, Blair Waldorf Herself.
Because there she was. He felt Eric at his side and even though Chuck knew he radiated self-assured smugness, there she was. And he couldn't help but smirk.
Impersonal was just what Chuck needed at the moment. Impersonal meant no attachment and relief in pleasure that wasn't automatically paired with pain. They had given each other enough in the past.
Impersonal was what he needed because there she was with her haughty look, and her holier-than-thou attitude when he knew what was really underneath.
"The lord and I are better than ever."
Impersonal was a necessity at this point, and someday, Little Van Der Woodsen would come to accept that cold, hard fact. Because she was cruel, she was cutting, and no one would ever compare to her.
This wasn't the first time.
"Are those last season's Tory Burch flats?"
The girl answered it like a question. "I got them on sale?"
Frozen in that moment, he had to smirk. Because even if the lord was apparently doing so well with her, he knew it wasn't going to last. Because Marcus was an outsider. Marcus came from across the sea, and he could never understand what it was like.
What they were like.
The only people who understood them were Chuck and Blair.
"You know there's nothing I like better than tearful underclassmen in the morning."
"A shocking revelation."
She never missed a beat as she kept up her pace, even though she felt his omnipresence behind her.
"Considering you are usually the reason for their tears over their tarnished virtue."
"As I recall," Chuck answered, just as quickly, "the only virtue I had the esteemed pleasure of enjoying was yours. And you were crying in pleasure more than humiliation."
"You really can't take a hint," Blair asked, finally stopping in the courtyard, "can you?"
"I just choose not to."
"There is a reason I'm with the Lord of Brighton instead of the Prince of Darkness," Blair said. "And it's your own fault you were distracted by something blonde and shiny."
"The Prince marries a Queen," Chuck pointed out.
"Like anyone would be fool enough to trap herself into matrimony with you," Blair retorted.
"I guess you're a fool then," Chuck answered, reveling in her shocked disapproval of his blunt statement. "Because if I'm ever going to get married, you know it's going to be to you. No one else satisfies."
"You say that now," Blair said, ignoring the fact how easily he spoke of marriage to her. "But you'll meet some ambitious sex-crazed woman one day, and that will be enough for you."
"I'm looking at her," Chuck smirked. "Besides, marrying someone exactly like me would just get boring after awhile. Too much predictability."
"And here I recall you saying with as much genuineness as you can muster that we're the same," she said with disdain, and in that instant, he knew it. He knew that she listened to every calculated syllable he recited to her.
And she cared.
So he would keep caring to.
"We are," he answered. "We scheme. We're insecure. But most of all, we're unpredictable. You are the most multi-faceted being I have ever had the pleasure of encountering. And nothing can take that away."
"If you don't mind," Blair said coldly, "I have Projects to manage."
"I have no doubt."
He loved watching her walk away as much as he hated it, and that was the moment he decided that waiting to tell her he loved her was the right move.
Especially because first time he realized it, she was laying her hierarchy down on those very same steps.
Sleepover '08
Unfortunately, I've already scheduled an all night cram session with my tutees.
Miss, Blair, you want me set beds before manicurists arrive-
Thank you, Dorota. That will be all.
Are you sure you said cram session and not the annual Waldorf sleepover?
It was the middle of the night that Blair should have realized the problem. To be completely honest, probably even before that. She hadn't heard from him in a week, and she knew that didn't bode well for her. He was a calculating, manipulative bastard, and no one knew that better than a calculating, manipulative bitch.
It seems you've found a way to entertain yourself for the night without me
Blair narrowed her eyes at the carefully calculated text that Chuck Bass must have spent several minutes crafting. Blair looked around the club, her eyes settling on the party sharing drinks and challenges in truth or dare.
"Is everything alright?"
At the sound of Serena's voice, Blair looked up from the LCD screen lighting up the club.
"Fine," Blair answered succinctly. She knew she wasn't paranoid or delusional. She wasn't even that wary. She was just...confused.
She knew how easy it would be for anyone—not just the likes of Chuck Bass—to find her with the ingenious medium of the Internet.
Then again, Chuck always had a plan. And maybe it was about time she started getting wary because she couldn't remember the last time Chuck had communicated with her in anything but hostile terms.
And she was quite aware of how very far she was from any romantic attachment. And how that always seemed to ignite Chuck's internal fires.
"You can't be here."
She understood all the signs, but somehow, her logic refused to believe it.
Whether it was believable or not, there he was. Chuck Bass lounging on her bed in the dark.
The light in her bathroom had already been switched off and they were both shrouded in darkness. Once again.
"And yet..." he drawled darkly into the night, "here I am."
"Much to my dismay," Blair sneered, falling into the familiar pattern that she knew was just a facade to cover everything they refused to say to each other. "How many times do I have to tell you, Bass?"
"That I'm not welcome to your sacred slumber party?" Chuck asked. "Too many times to count."
"It's a soirée," Blair corrected easily.
"Taking into account that this will be the last soirée you'll be holding," Chuck said, ignoring her comment, "I figured you would make an exception."
"And that is where your arrogant confidence spirals into the realm of impossibility," Blair said.
"Can you blame me?" Chuck asked quietly and she felt her stomach drop. She knew that not exiling him immediately on sight had been her failure. And she knew exactly what he had come here for. "Can you blame me for missing you?"
His body was suddenly hot against hers, and fortunately, she was quick enough to shove him away before any further damage could be done.
"Don't even attempt to try that with me," Blair warned.
"Try what," Chuck said softly, "exactly?"
At her prolonged silence, he chuckled.
"I missed you at Yale," Chuck said. "Did it work out as you had planned?"
"More or less."
"Really?" Chuck asked in disbelief. "I couldn't help but notice Serena's name on the wardrobe rack as I-"
"As you snuck into my party that's strictly female?" Blair asked.
"I must confess," Chuck said, ignoring her barb. "When I approached you those weeks ago, I had an ulterior motive."
"Did you?" Blair asked dryly, knowing the steps to their familiar waltz.
"I had plotted to pit you and Serena together so I could get closer to you as we schemed to get your throne back."
"This is such a surprise."
"Your sarcasm wounds me."
"Why don't you tell me something," Blair suggested.
"What's that?"
His voice had turned breathy, and no matter how much she wanted to pull the rug out from beneath him, she couldn't help her curiosity.
"What would you have done," Blair murmured, "if I had accepted?"
"I would be loyal to you and only you," Chuck whispered back. "And the world would tremble before us."
This time, his heat was not something she abhorred, but what she couldn't help but want to embrace.
"Chuck-"
The moment his name left her lips, searing white-hot pain scalded her eyes and she shaded her eyes from the bright light that suddenly flooded the room.
"Blair."
Serena's hand wrapped around her best friend's arm, shoving Blair behind her protectively.
"Hello, sister," Chuck greeted calmly, but Blair wasn't fooled. His eyes weren't even on Serena, but past her barrier.
"How did you get in here?" Serena demanded.
"Fate was on my side," Chuck smirked.
"Well Fate is kicking you out right now," Serena said. Chuck's eyes grew cold for a fraction of a second before his carefree expression graced his face once again.
"For now," Chuck acquiesced, before his voice dropped dangerously. "But you have gotten in my way one to many times, sis."
He leaned away, passing Serena easily to cast his eyes on the object of his perverse affection.
"Waldorf," he said, leaning in swiftly to kiss her on the cheek before Serena could stop him. "Until we meet again."
As Serena's scowl transferred from Chuck to Blair, Blair couldn't help but feel as though that would be very soon.
Understand
You don't understand.
I do understand. Let me help.
It hadn't only been when Serena went away. It was a friendship that you wanted to push away because it was something you simply couldn't understand. But if there was anything Chuck Bass could understand, it was Blair Waldorf. And that within itself was confusing.
It was something that had always been there. In her dark and calculating eyes and the way she didn't even notice how the eyes of every St. Jude's student followed her perfect form. It was never something Chuck could understand. Until he realized that he understood Blair Waldorf.
The bottle of perfume exploded over his head and Chuck would be lucky if he didn't smell like Chanel No. 5 for the rest of the week. Standing there in her evening gown was a seething Blair Waldorf.
"Well, where is he?"
Her chest was heaving and Chuck tried not to pay too much attention to that. It was dirty and sinful and not for his eyes at all.
"I don't know," Chuck said. "He just said that he wasn't coming."
Chuck was just relieved she didn't throw that curling iron that was still plugged in. It may not have reached far, but he was definitely close enough to get burned.
It was these fascinating facets that made up Blair Waldorf. How her rage could radiate for miles, but those vulnerable eyes of hers just welled up. He hated emotion. Showing it to his father and on any other person. But she just had that innocent way about her that made her so precious. And Chuck knew she was one of a kind.
Though it was suddenly clear she wasn't crying because of him, or even his own best friend. The cause of her distress was looking reprovingly at them both and he wished he had closed the door when he came to inform Blair that her date was standing her up.
"What is going on up here?" Eleanor asked in her deathly tone. "Where's Nathaniel?"
"I'll be escorting Blair this evening," Chuck said politely.
Eleanor didn't even grace him with a look of relief. She was still glaring at her daughter and Chuck felt a chilling sense of déjà vu. Chuck knew that look from a disapproving parent all too well. And he wouldn't wish that look on anyone.
"If you could save your temper tantrum until our guests leave," Eleanor said scathingly, "it would be preferable."
"I'm sorry, Mother."
Eleanor responded with closing the door sharply behind her.
Chuck knew that gazing at Blair's vulnerability was exactly the wrong thing to do at that moment. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't help but feel completely himself when he was with her.
"What are you looking at?" she snapped.
"Some way to treat the person who just saved you from attending your mother's party without a date," Chuck said. He knew this was not the way to handle it. But the provoking glances she always sent him made him act in ways that were just illogical.
"Get out."
At least she didn't throw her aluminum bottle of hairspray at his face.
"You're not mad at me."
"Don't tell me how I feel," Blair said with disgust. "You don't know anything about me."
"Quite the contrary, sweetheart," Chuck said, approaching the bloodthirsty lioness, "I know just about everything about you. I know you're not really angry with me. I know that the only true reason you're displeased with Dear Nathaniel is because of the way your mother treats you because of it. And I know the only person you really hate is yourself. Because no matter what you do, or how hard you try, the one person you want to impress the most will always look down on you with displeasure."
It had been too far. That he knew. What he didn't expect was that this small and fragile girl would actually put her hands on him. His back hit the wall and he knew that she would never stop surprising him.
Not even if she tried.
Her nails bit into his shirtfront and for a frightening moment, he couldn't help but think about what those nails would feel like if he wasn't wearing a shirt at all.
"Relax," Chuck tried to say soothingly, grasping her wrists to stop her from attempting to beat him.
Silly girl.
"Don't pretend to understand what I feel," she snarled.
"Quite frankly, I don't care what you feel," Chuck answered, walking forward and pushing her along with him so he wasn't pinned against the wall any longer. "I just know what it's like."
Her eyes were dark and furious, but this time, she didn't object. He sat her gently in the chair before her vanity.
"Now," he said diplomatically, "we're going to go downstairs in approximately three minutes after you've stopped your hysterics."
He hovered behind her as she reapplied her mascara. Her hand froze with the wand clutched in it he slid his hands over her bare shoulders, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. But after a moment she continued just as casually as he was acting.
"Bart came home today."
He didn't know why he said it, but at her trembling sigh, he knew the worst of it was over.
"Don't."
"Don't what?" he asked playfully.
"Don't pretend to connect with me."
"We're not pretending," Chuck said. "It's happening."
"Why?"
"Because you're desperate and needy for someone to pay attention to you," Chuck said. "And you're just lucky that I have an equally self-destructive personality."
"You're not seriously suggesting that we have the slightest bit in common," Blair scoffed.
"I'm suggesting that we have quite a bit in common," Chuck said. "I see the way your mind turns. I see the way you take advantage of every opportunity to gain status. I see you, Waldorf."
Her shoulders were warm from his hands, and he couldn't help but use this opportunity to his own advantage. He knelt behind her, kneading her shoulders. She exhaled breathily and he felt another moment of weakness. For an instant, he let himself imagine what it would be like to hear that sound as he slid into her for the first time.
But the moment was over and he leaned his chin to her shoulder, their eyes locking through the mirror.
"You have a beautiful danger about you," he whispered in her ear. "Just like me."
"Am I narcissistic just like you?" Blair played along.
"Sometimes," Chuck answered. "And you like that about us."
He eased his hands beneath her silken curls, pulling them from where they spilled over her shoulders to tumble down her bare back.
"Don't tell anyone."
Her eyes were dark and taunting, and he just had to play along.
"Don't tell anyone, what?" he asked. "About the fire below that you hide from everyone but me?"
He turned his head to take in her profile as her lips pursed. He smoothed his hands down her hair. He didn't understand why she wasn't pushing away his inappropriately affectionate hands.
"We speak to each other, you know," Chuck said. "Don't ever forget it."
"Do I entertain you in some way?" Blair asked. "Is that it?"
"I like you, Blair Waldorf," Chuck said. "That's it. Because we're a good pair."
"I hope you mean strictly in the Les Liaisons Dangereuses sense."
"What other sense would there be?" he questioned. "You and I scheme together. Because you and I are a matched set."
"And why would you want to help me?" she asked in disbelief.
The truth was, he didn't know.
"Because I always understand."
He didn't know until the exact moment he said it.
And in that exact moment, he knew he was in trouble.
