A/N: I heard this song on the radio and immediately "this bed is on fire with passionate love" reminded me of Chair so here it is. I wrote a lot of song-fics in a short time but I think they came out alright.

Summary: He wasn't a stalker. It wasn't like that. But there were several contributing factors including alcohol, deceased fathers, and intense women that he was in love with that led him to being arrested and forced to see a shrink.

Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me and the song "Laid" by James (fitting, I know) doesn't belong to me either.

This bed is on fire
With passionate love
The neighbors complain about the noises above
But she only comes when she's on top

His breaths heaved from his chest in sharp bursts. His brain couldn't keep up with his body as he acted out of primal instinct.

But it still wasn't right.

Whatever this was, it wasn't right. All he heard was own release as he groaned out, loud in his ears. His eyes strained in the darkness but there was nothing to hear.

She wasn't really there anyway.

He felt her roll off him and he knew this thing was over. This nonexistent thing between them wasn't really there anyway and it broke his heart every time she came to him.

The bed sheets ruffled and he knew she was searching for her clothes.

But he couldn't let her get that far. Not this time.

"Wait," he husked in the darkness, grasping for her wrist. He felt her still beneath his grasp but as usual, it wouldn't help. It never did.

"I have to go," she whispered back.

"You don't."

"Your neighbors might call the cops again," she said, pulling away. He had to swallow his laughter because in any other situation, it would have been funny because it was so true.

Not anymore.

Nothing was funny anymore.

"It doesn't matter," he said, hating the desperation lacing his voice. "None of that matters."

He wasn't talking about the police force that kept giving them warnings but never really did anything about it. There used to be a time where Blair would be mortified that they had noise complaints that Chuck would playfully flaunt at parties.

But they weren't like that anymore and it killed him. She only came sometimes and even when she did, it was full of bitterness. She wasn't really with him. She was numb now and there wasn't anything he could do about it. It had gotten to her and he couldn't stop the disease that was spreading through her veins like a cancer. He didn't think this would happen. Even after that bitter break up that tore them both apart, he hadn't expected her to be like this. He wanted to save her from things that had yet to get to his pseudo-step sisters.

The Blair he loved was fading and the only way they could hold onto each other were the fleeting moments with flesh pressed against flesh. He knew that Blair wanted to save herself as well but she just didn't know how.

As th door closed fatally behind her, Chuck didn't know how either.

My therapist said not to see you no more
She said you're like a disease without any cure
She said I'm so obsessed that I'm becoming a bore, oh no
Ah, you think you're so pretty

It was a court order thing.

He didn't see a psychiatrist out of free will. But he hated to admit that it actually helped sometimes. He couldn't talk to Nathaniel. He couldn't really talk to anyone.

He wasn't a stalker. It wasn't like that. But there were several contributing factors including alcohol, deceased fathers, and intense women that he was in love with that led him to being arrested and forced to see a shrink.

He wouldn't say it was helping. After all, you couldn't cure terminal cancer and you couldn't cure Blair Waldorf. But at least he could talk to someone without his rep being ruined. Even though she had that stupid emotion of pity in her eyes, he could hack it.

"How's your drinking?" Dr. Sherman asked.

Oh yeah. She was also Blair's shrink for eating disorders. Cruel fate liked to fuck with him.

"I'm not an alcoholic," Chuck had been saying dryly since his first day. Maybe in some suburban high school he would be compared to one but this was what he had grown up with. And this was how things were.

"Wouldn't you admit that was one of the contributing factors of your agreement to come here?" Dr. Sherman asked.

Contributing factors.

It was a polite way of saying how out of his mind he was. He had discovered this when he discovered he had actually let himself fall in love with someone.

Bad move on his part, but it was beyond that at this point.

"Or would that have more to do with Blair?"

"Blair doesn't control me," Chuck said automatically. He still had some pride even though the scotch had eroded it most away.

"Would you really agree with that?" Dr. Sherman asked. Chuck just looked at her blankly. She was unfazed. He wasn't surprised. She had Blair as a patient. "She is the reason why you're here."

"Are you about to wave that patient confidentially clause?" Chuck smirked.

"You know I can't divulge any information I receive from my sessions with Blair," Dr. Sherman smiled back. She understood Chuck which he was thankful for. The last thing he needed was a judgmental shrink.

"So she's still coming?" Chuck asked, looking uncomfortably at his ridiculously expensive pants. He knew she couldn't answer that but he still needed to know.

"Why are you so afraid of loving her?" Dr. Sherman asked instead.

"Because I ruin her," Chuck said. "I'm the reason she had to come back."

"From what you tell me, she makes her own decisions," Dr. Sherman replied.

"I could be making it all up," Chuck said.

"Just because this is a court order doesn't mean you have to not want to come here," she said. "Seeing a therapist isn't a bad thing."

"What I did was bad," Chuck said. "If it wasn't for me..."

"You were under a lot of stress," she said. "From what I hear, the work you do is very time consuming."

"You and I both know that's not why I did it."

"You were under the influence," she nodded. "Which brings us back to your alcohol use."

"I don't have a problem," Chuck repeated. "Everyone drinks like that."

"So it's your society's fault," Dr. Sherman said. "But if it hadn't been for society, we wouldn't be here."

"I'm not a stalker," Chuck said bluntly. Dr. Sherman smiled.

"I was never insinuating that."

"Eleanor did," Chuck replied.

"And what about Blair?" Dr. Sherman asked. "Was Blair frightened?"

"I told you," Chuck said roughly. "Blair isn't anything anymore. She doesn't love me anymore. She doesn't say anything anymore. She doesn't feel anything anymore."

"And why do you think that is?" she asked.

"You mean because of me?" Chuck snorted. "I'm surprised it took me this long to break her. I've done too many things to her already."

"This isn't about you," Dr. Sherman said. "We both know that. You crept into Blair's room that night because you were trying to see if she was alright. Because you love her."

"No," Chuck said shortly. He couldn't even think it anymore. It was too painful knowing that she couldn't reciprocate his feelings.

"The more you say it, the easier it will become to accept," she said. "You love her."

"That much has become blatantly obvious even before I apparently assaulted her," Chuck returned. "I just can't do anything about it anymore. She doesn't want me."

"Has she told you that?" Dr. Sherman asked.

"She isn't capable of feeling anything anymore," Chuck said. "I wish I was so lucky."

"You think she doesn't love you."

"I know it's too late for me," Chuck replied. "I'm just glad that she got out while she still could."

"This isn't a case of unrequited love," she replied. "You told me as much. She loves you very much."

"Maybe she did," Chuck said. "For a little while at least. But I should have known better than ot think it would last."

"Why wouldn't it last?" she asked. "Do you not want it to last?"

"It... hurts every time she leaves," Chuck mustered. "But we can't be together."

"Because of Eleanor?" she asked.

"I'm new money," Chuck laughed bitterly. "I'm okay for a fling but Eleanor wants Blair with someone who can bring more money to the family."

"That doesn't dictate what Blair feels," Dr. Sherman reasons.

"You vastly underestimate the power of matriarchs on the Upper East Side," Chuck replied. "I know what its like to want to please your parents so much even if it won't do any good."

"So what if Blair wants to please her mother?" she asked. "She could still be with you."

"Well she isn't."

"You said so yourself you're still seeing each other."

"It would be called casual sex if I was even giving it that much respect," Chuck rolled his eyes. "But she sure as hell isn't."

"You said you know what she feels," Dr. Sherman says. "When your father died, didn't you do something to that effect? You went to see Blair so someone cared but still pushed her away."

"Eleanor isn't dead."

"So Blair can only act this way if someone close to her has died?" she asked.

"No," Chuck said in frustration. "But this isn't about Blair self destructing. This about her becoming something that she has to become."

"And what's that?"

"She's turning into a cold society matron and that was bound to happen. Now she has to go and find herself a rich husband with a cold marriage bed."

"Do you want to marry her?" she asked. "Is that it?"

"If I were to commit myself to anyone," Chuck said slowly, "it would only be her. It was only ever her. But that isn't going to happen."

"Why?"

"Marriage here isn't about love," Chuck said. "It's about making strong blood lines."

"Didn't your father marry for love?"

"Yeah," Chuck sneered, "and look what happened to him. I killed her and he hated me for that until the day he died."

"That's something we have to get back to," Dr. Sherman said. "We've talked about this. You're not responsible for your mother's death."

"Tell that to my father," Chuck said bitterly. "Oh wait, you can't."

"Did you ever think that your self destruction was a way to get back at your father?" she asked.

"Maybe after he died," Chuck said. "But that was more about me getting through the pain. I'm not self destructing."

"Well you can't deny that seeing Blair like this isn't the most healthiest relationship."

"She's the only relationship I've had," Chuck said. "I'm not going to change that."

"You could stop seeing her," Dr. Sherman said. "You could find something that was right for you."

"Blair is it," Chuck said. "We've never been healthy but passionate. I could never love anyone else. There's no one else like her out there."

"And you don't think that's your obsession talking?" she asked.

"I'm not obsessed," Chuck said. "I love her."

Dr. Sherman smiled. "Well at least you can say it out loud again."

The hour usually went by quickly. Chuck didn't do anything after it. He had to think. The only time he spoke more about his feelings was when he and Blair were actually still in their relationship. It was thoughts like those that made him surprised when he saw her in his penthouse.

She turned at his approach and saw her shuddering with tears.

"I'm pretty," Blair rasped, "right? You think I'm pretty. Don't you?"

He didn't need to say anything as she collapsed in his arms.

Caught your hand inside a till
Slammed your fingers in the door
Fought with kitchen knives and skewers
Dressed me up in women's clothes
Messed around with gender roles
Dye my eyes and call me pretty

The tranquility never lasted long with them. Maybe if it did, they would be like other couples with holding hands and going to the movies. Maybe if it did, they would actually be a couple. But they weren't. They just weren't. So he watched his beautiful fury morph from her beautiful disaster to her gorgeous destruction, flinging things across the room while tears melted into nothingness.

He let it happen.

He let her demean him because it was better than making her leave. Because if she left, then she would never come back. She would irreparably be some cold society girl that would just turn into some cold society wife. And he couldn't watch it happen to her.

Not this time.

Not ever.

Her screams of anguish ricocheted off his walls but no one would call the cops. Not in his building. Not this time.

"At least my father loves me," she taunted him.

It is a wound that has never healed. Much like her insecurities and her own father's absence. And he's breaking but he saw it coming. When she was threatened, it was what she did. She had to protect herself. He was caring about her and she couldn't let that happen.

He just didn't know why that was. He didn't know why she wouldn't let him love her. But he hated her. He hated her so much he wanted to scream.

But he loved her.

Because right after she said it she did something she had never done before.

Usually she hid beneath herself and never showed her vulnerability. But he knew she was aware of the pain she was causing him. And he could see the remorse flit across her as she continued to fall. And she just wouldn't get back up.

Her footsteps were full of tragedy and reluctance. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't look at her anymore. He didn't know why he kept shredding himself to pieces for her.

But he knew.

As she cradled his face in her palm, he knew. He knew he could never love anything the way he loved her. He looked into her stricken eyes.

"I'm sorry, love," she promised. "You're too beautiful for me."

He was sure this time that was the last time she would walk away from him.

Moved out of the house, so you moved next door
I locked you out, you cut a hole in the wall
I found you sleeping next to me, I thought I was alone

He had to escape her. It was the only way. It was strange how she broke him but when it was her turn to walk away, he couldn't let her go. He could walk away from her any time he wanted, but when she left him for the greater good, he couldn't watch it happen. He wouldn't.

But this time was different.

It made him violently ill to think that she was changing so much that they weren't meant for each other anymore. But if it wasn't her, there was no one else. He would be totally alone. That wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't experienced what it was really like to have everything.

And have it ripped so wholly away from him.

He had to escape from the apartments that was so full of her that he couldn't see straight.

But he couldn't rid himself of her. She was everywhere. She had walked away from him but he knew he was the one being unattainable. It was healthy that she stay away. So naturally, she didn't.

It didn't help that he couldn't stop seeing her. He saw the shadow beneath her eyes of who she used to be. He wanted to reach out to her. He wished he could save her like he used to. But apparently that wasn't healthy.

He was okay with that. It was okay if he had her in short bursts so he didn't overwhelm himself with thoughts of being without her.

He was doing okay.

Until she kissed him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I told you that you were too beautiful to me," she murmured.

"What?" he asked in confusion.

She smiled bitterly. "You're pulling away."

"Because you pulled away first."

She took a hesitant step away before he grabbed her arm. "What's going on with you?"

Blair shrugged nonchalantly.

"Do you really think you can fool me?" he asked. "You're more transparent than you think."

"Did you ever stop to think that I'm too broken for you?" she asked.

"No," he said bluntly. "You've got it the other way around."

"Don't think like that."

"If you think walking away was the best option," Chuck said, "what are you doing?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I don't know what I'm doing without you."

"Don't do that," Chuck said, feeling the tendrils of her manipulation enclose his throat. "You can't keep doing this to me."

"Okay," she replied.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Okay."

It was the next day he realized when she had moved back into the apartment he had vacated.

Okay, I won't leave you anymore.

Maybe this was better.

It wasn't better when she would call on him at all hours of the night, begging him for the help he didn't think he had the strength to give anymore.

He had to save her.

He had to save her for her own good.

So he locked her out.

It was for the best.

His dreams were full of her sweat and tears. It was so real he could smell her.

And then he did.

He jerked awake to find her slumbering peacefully next to him and he was hit full force with a sense of deja vu.

And he knew it was the first full night's sleep she had gotten in awhile.

She stirred and their eyes met in the darkness.

"I thought I was alone," he said to her.

"Why do you keep trying to save me?" she asked.

"The answer to that is simple," he said. "It's only three words."

"Why?"

"That's just the way it is," he said simply. "I can't help it. And you're here for that exact same reason. You can't help it either."

"Then you won't turn me away?" she asked shakily. "If you love me... you won't turn me away."

"Is that why you're with all of them?" Chuck asked. "They don't love you so they can't reject you."

"I don't know what you want me to say," Blair said.

"Say you'll stop jerking me around," he answered. "Say you'll stay."

"I promise."

You're driving me crazy
When are you coming home
Pretty
Pretty

He wasn't really sure what he expected. Thinking that this would make things better may not have been the most logical of reasoning. He was still breathless when he saw her and his eyes still rolled to the back of his head. This couldn't be helped. It was how desperate his love for her was.

It was in the moments when he would arrive home before her. He drummed his fingers in agitation across the arm rest of the couch. He wondered idly what it was that she did when she was home without him.

The door would open and he would take her face in his hands, kissing her fiercely. She laughed lightly into his mouth crushing against hers. He loved that sound. She was happy with him. It was something he didn't think that would happen ever again. Her fingers intertwined at the back of his skull and he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"Did you miss me?" she taunted.

"You drive me crazy, Waldorf," he replied. He pushed her hair away. "So pretty."

Maybe he would marry her.