The Thawing
Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
xoxo
This time, when Chuck gets back into the limo, he is grinning from ear to ear (there have only been a handful of times he's actually smiled and the bulk of them had taken place after hitting the joint hard). He can't believe how easy it was to get rid of Casey, and while he's not complaining, Chuck can only hope the dude stays away. He also hopes that his little visit to Mr. James' apartment won't come back to bite him in the ass.
Taking a celebratory gulp of whiskey out of his flask, Chuck eases back into his seat. He directs his driver Arthur back to his hotel and pulls out his iPod Nano from the inner breast pocket of his jacket. Few people are aware that Chuck Bass has any sort of musical taste; if only they could see the large array of artists that Chuck clicks past before finally settling on "Mr. Right" by Mickey Avalon.
"Who's that dude sleepin' with your girlfriend, getting' lewd and rude in your bed," Chuck sings along (albeit terribly) under his breath. He can't carry a tune for the life of him, but damn it if Chuck Bass doesn't enjoy his private limo karaoke time.
The sound of "Candy Shop" by Dan Band coming from Chuck's iPhone interrupts his jam session and Chuck scowls, annoyed as he removes his ear buds and reaches for his cell. The screen flashes Blair and the scowl immediately disappears from Chuck's face, replaced with a pleased smirk. "Hello sweetness," he greets her.
"Hi Chuck," Blair replies casually.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" asks Chuck, cradling his phone between his neck and head while he uses one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs to dry his sweating palms.
Damn nerves.
Blair pauses and Chuck can sense that she is about as flustered as he pretends not to be. "Meet me on the steps of the Met in fifteen minutes."
"Why? Public sex is punishable by law," Chuck answers with a mischievous grin that he knows if Blair were to see, he'd receive a slap to the back of the head.
Sighing loudly, Blair snaps, "Just do it, Bass. Don't make me ask twice."
"Alright, alright. I suppose I can stop by. Don't get your panties in a bunch," Chuck acquiesces in a bored voice that he hopes will get Blair to be a little more… giving in her affections.
"Seeing as how I'm not wearing any, that won't be hard to do," Blair returns teasingly, as if seeing his bet and raising it double.
Chuck's mouth falls open at her admission. He loosens his tie – when did it get so hot in here? – and starts, "I –"
"Ta!" Blair interrupts before hanging up the phone.
Chuck is met with a dial tone. "Damn you, Blair Waldorf," he mutters under his breath before lowing the partition between Arthur and himself and barking, "Forget the hotel. Go to the Met instead."
"The Met?" Arthur grins mutedly. "Since when is Mr. Bass a fan of modern art?"
Chuck drinks out of his flask again in anticipation. "Since I've got a chance at landing the most gorgeous piece of arm candy the Upper East Side has seen in ages."
Arthur quirks an eyebrow knowingly. "Arm candy, Mr. Bass?" the elderly driver inquires, his tone skeptical.
Running a hand through his gelled hair, Chuck bites his cheek. "Shouldn't you be focused on, say, navigating through traffic without getting us both killed rather than dissecting my personal life?"
Chuck knows that Arthur won't take his mildly insulting words to heart; after all, the driver's been with the family for over ten years and while Chuck's had his share of rude moments, he's also been incredibly generous towards the gray-haired man. For Christmas Eve last year, Chuck had invited Arthur and family (kids and grandkids included) to Lily's annual soiree and surprised his favorite Bass employee with two tickets to St. Tropez.
Of course, a week later, Chuck had thrown a glass of scotch at the window partition in a fit of anger because traffic was heavy and Arthur could not fly the limo over New York City, so in the end, the driver is definitely familiar with Chuck's tendency to be temperamental. Truth be told, Chuck's always thought of Arthur as the Alfred to his Bruce Wayne, though Chuck has no alter ego and his only power is bribery.
"Of course, Mr. Bass. You're completely right," Arthur answers calmly, before pressing a button that raises the tinted glass that separates employer and employee once again.
xoxo
Soon, the limo pulls up in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and Chuck opens the door, stepping out a little too eagerly. He knocks on the passenger sign window as a sign of gratitude to his driver, and proceeds to make his way towards the enormous stone steps. Dark eyes scan the crowd for Blair, and when chocolate curls swing bouncily into his vision, Chuck leaps forward. "Hey beautiful," he whispers into her ear, turning her slender frame towards him.
Chuck leans into to kiss plump rose lips but is pushed back swiftly. "What the hell do you think you're doing, creep!" a woman who is certainly not Blair Waldorf shouts angrily, pushing him again.
"I apologize. I was looking for someone else," Chuck replies, slightly embarrassed. "Someone else" is right; this woman has the leathery skin of an elephant and teeth like pats of butter and Chuck is positive she can pass for a mummy at the museum if she so wishes.
The woman sneers, "Yeah, pal, well look the other direction!" She smooths the wrinkles out of her cheaply-made blouse and crosses her arms in intimidation.
Chuck raises a brow. He can't help himself. "Since when did the Met allow West Side trash on its premises?" he asks, quite serious.
"Why you son-of-a-"
"Oh, Chuck! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Blair's jubilant voice interrupts the woman's tirade and she prances up to Chuck, slipping her arm around his. "You've just got to see the new Taylor exhibit! You'll have to excuse us, ma'am, the line is getting rather long."
As Blair pulls Chuck away, he watches her in amusement. "Line? You know we don't wait in lines, Blair."
"Obviously," Blair says, rolling her eyes, "but Jocelyn Wildenstein over there doesn't know that." She drags him halfway up the stairs and they both sit down on the large step.
"Right, so exactly how long were you watching me before you decided to swoop in and save the day?" Chuck smirks.
Blair shrugs with a cheery grin on her face. "Oh, I saw it all. I was just laughing too hard at first to do anything about."
"Ever the thoughtful one, I see," Chuck drawls sarcastically. "So, praytell, what are we doing here? I suspect my getting in an argument with the crack child of Whitney and Bobby wasn't in the itinerary."
"No, but it did make for some mild entertainment, at least for me," Blair answers, her smile fading. "Really, though, Chuck, we're here because I wanted to tell you something. Something kind of big."
Chuck feigns ignorance. "And what would that be? I can't see anything being bigger than the revelation that you're not wearing panties." His eyes lower towards Blair's lap suggestively.
"Shut up, Bass! You can't possibly think that I was serious," Blair says sharply before softening her tone. "I broke up with Casey. It happened just this afternoon. I wanted to tell you in person."
"You don't say," Chuck replies, pretending to be surprised. "Well, it's about time, Waldorf. And you made this a special occasion why?"
Blair raises her head indignantly, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. "It's not a special occasion. It's nothing at all. I just thought you should know that I'm –"
"Ripe and ready for the picking," Chuck cuts her off and presses his forehead against hers. "You know I've been dying to call you mine, and now there's nothing to hold you – or me – back."
Chucks lips bristle against Blair's gently. Her breath is saccharine-smelling, like cherries mixed with peppermint, and Chuck's tongue instinctively darts out to taste it.
Victory's never tasted so sweet, his mind buzzes.
Blair suddenly pulls back, and with a sugary smile and a tilt of the head, says, "I say we talk."
This time, Chuck is genuinely taken by surprise. "What? Talk? Why?"
"Easy, Detective Bass," Blair grins, locking her arms around Chuck's neck. "I just think we should get to know each other better before we go any further. I feel like I hardly know anything about you."
Chuck smirks. "We've already gone pretty far according to last night's festivities, and I already know you outside and… in."
Blair shakes her head. "Nope, not going there, Chuck Bass. We are going to take a long walk and have a nice conversation. There will absolutely no mention of last night. We're starting fresh."
"Virgin reborn?" Chuck asks smarmily.
"Single for life?" Blair snaps in reply.
"Cool your jets, Waldorf," Chuck says with both hands raised. "I was just kidding. Whatever you want to do. Honest."
Blair smiles, appeased. She gets to her feet and tugs down the hem of her lavender Michael Kors sheath dress. Bending down and patting Chuck on the head, she teases, "Good boy."
"Starting fresh does not mean I'll be referred to using pet names, I'll have you know," Chuck grumbles as he stands up, fixing his messed hair.
"Whatever you say, sweetness," Blair laughs, echoing Chuck's earlier greeting. "By the way, notice anything special?"
Chuck purses his lips as he scans Blair's figure. His eyes drift from her black Louboutins all the way up to her silk, diamond encrusted Maison|Michel headband that looks strangely like… "You're finally wearing it?" Chuck asks, his attempt to mask his joy a failed one.
"What do you think?" Blair twirls around as if the motion will showcase the headband better.
Lifting a hand to the headband, Chuck caresses the fabric. "It's decadent and one-of-a-kind. It certainly belongs on you," he says admiringly.
Blair bats her lashes playfully. "Why thank you, Bass. If you're trying to win my heart with flattery, it's working," she teases, grabbing Chuck's hand in her own. "Now take me on a tour of Central Park. I'm dying to see what all the fuss is about!"
Truthfully, the only time that Chuck's been to Central Park had been when he lost his virginity to Georgina Sparks underneath the bridge. It hadn't been very memorable, apart from the bum approaching them mid-intercourse and commenting that he's seen better sex acts take place in the junkyard. Naturally, Chuck isn't eager to take Blair on any "tour". "Why don't we go to STK or something? The only thing I've ingested today was cigar fumes," Chuck suggests hopefully.
Shaking her head vigorously, Blair replies, "No way. We're doing this on my terms this time around."
"You've got to be kidding me," Chuck groans. "I offer you a two hundred dollar meal at an expensive restaurant and you want to take a leisurely, and might I add, free, walk in the park?"
Blair drops Chuck's hand and saunters down the stairs, her hips swaying from side to side. "The best things in life are free, you know. Laughing, sunbathing… sex," she preaches, tossing the last word over her shoulder with a seductive smirk.
Swallowing hard, Chuck struggles to keep the upper hand that he quickly seems to be losing. "Coming from Miss Dior over here, I find that hard to believe," he returns dryly.
"A girl's gotta look good while partaking in said activities," Blair defends herself.
"You don't need a Chanel dress to fuck," Chuck points out. In the end, though, he decides to catch up to Blair, walking briskly until he is at her side. It takes hardly any time at all to enter the park and it's clear that Blair's already won this game. She wraps her arm around his and leans against Chuck's shoulder as they stroll lazily along the cement path.
"Central Park really is beautiful," Blair admires dreamily. "I can almost imagine Prince Philip galloping through here on his big white horse."
Confused, Chuck asks, "Prince Philip?"
"From Sleeping Beauty," Blair explains. "Although I hear the real version of that was way less romantic. Something about the prince getting it on with Briar-Rose while she slept. I prefer the Disney version."
Chuck watches Blair as she marvels over the lushness of the park's vegetation. "Not me," he murmurs. "How can you know what good is without a little evil?"
Blair doesn't respond for a good minute. "Chuck," she says suddenly.
"Blair?" he answers.
Blair squeezes his arm affectionately. "Tell me something about yourself that you've never told anyone."
Chuck furrows his brow. "Like a deep dark secret? Waldorf, most of those are already out in the public. Check the Times."
"No, tell me anything. Whatever you want to share," Blair replies.
The two walk in silence for a couple minutes before Chuck opens his mouth to speak. "Alright, but if you tell anyone, I'll personally ship you back to Paris." Like I did Casey, he adds in his head.
Blair makes a zipping gesture across her lips.
"Fine. Sometimes… sometimes I listen to the Godfather theme song while I'm getting ready in the morning."
"Oh. My. God," Blair laughs, her hand over her mouth. Chuck glares at her. "Okay, I'm sorry. I promise. It's just… such a 'Chuck Bass' thing to do!"
"I like to think I bear some resemblance to Vito Corleone," Chuck replies quite seriously. "In presence - not in looks, of course. But now it's your turn, Waldorf. What's one of your dirty little secrets?"
"Well…" Blair bites her lip in thought. "Okay, here's something. When I lived in Paris, I had a dog, Sir Charles. Don't even ask; Daddy's a huge Suns fan for some strange reason. Anyways, one day he brought a cake home from one of the local bakeries for Roman's birthday. I… I ate it all and when Daddy found the empty platter and asked me about it, I blamed it on Sir Charles. Daddy was so furious that Sir Charles was literally in the doghouse for the rest of the night. It rained for hours."
Chuck tries to ignore the obvious implications of her admission, instead focusing on the dog. "What happened to him?"
Blair sighs. "He caught pneumonia and almost died. When we brought Sir Charles home from the vet, I told Daddy the truth and my sweet dog has been treated like a king ever since. I still feel terrible guilt because of it, though."
Chuck rubs her shoulder. "Trust me, Blair, lying about a cake is nothing compared to some of the stuff that I've done."
Looking up at him quizzically, Blair asks, "Like what?"
An image of Evelyn Bass flashes in his head and Chuck suddenly clams up. "Forget it."
He doesn't like to talk about his mother, about how his birth caused her death, about how that is the reason Bart hardly talks to him. No, Chuck had already buried those simple facts in the deepest part of his mind and forever there they will stay.
Obviously Blair senses his uneasiness and backs off. "Alright, all is forgotten. Except for the fact you think you're the Godfather," she jests lightly, her airy voice bringing Chuck back to reality.
Their stroll soon brings them to the bridge where Chuck lost his virginity. His expression turns sour and Blair evidently notices "What's wrong?" she asks him, slightly concerned.
Chuck looks as if he's bitten into a lemon. "More bad memories," he answers vaguely.
"What? Did you get mugged here or something?"
Smirking, Chuck shakes his head. "I'm a Bass. Basses don't get mugged. They do, however, give up their v-card to bloodsucking succubae against walls of Central Park bridges."
Blair groans. "You've got to be kidding me. A bridge, Chuck? Really? How old were you?"
"I was thirteen. Obviously an unlucky number as my partner was Georgina Sparks," Chuck answers.
"Georgina Sparks, huh?" Blair looks around the area and is satisfied at the lack of people. Leading Chuck underneath the bridge, she smiles, biting her lower lip playfully. "Forget Miss Sparks. I have an idea."
Chuck follows her to the middle of the bridge wall, where Blair stops and leans back against the stone. "And what would that be?" Chuck whispers lowly, his eyes focused hungrily on Blair's glossy lips.
"Why don't we create some… good memories here?"
Blair strokes the nape of Chuck's back with her fingertips and pulls him close to her in a long kiss. Chuck's hands find themselves roughly gripping Blair's svelte waist, the friction of fabrics causing her dress to ride up slightly. Pulling back, Chuck pants, "What happened to not wanting to take things further? We can stop if you'd like."
Blair's chest rises and falls rapidly. "No, don't stop. I didn't want to rush things," she breathes urgently, " but it can't be helped. You just do something to me, Bass, and it's driving me crazy." She crashes her lips greedily against Chuck's and takes his large hand in her own tiny one. Guiding his hand up her thigh, Blair sighs, content, against Chuck's ear.
When they finish, the only name in his head, on his lips, in his mouth is Blair and Chuck is more than satisfied with that.
xoxo
I suck! I can't believe it's been so long since I've updated, but truthfully I had a case of writer's block. I'm really, really pleased with how this chapter turned out, though, so I hope it's enough to appease you guys! Also, yes I know that Basses indeed DO get mugged apparently but I thought that was a cop-out SL so it'll never happen in here, lol. BTW I was watching a Lifetime movie starring Eleanor Waldorf (idk the actress' name, don't really care either lol. She's Eleanor to me) while I was writing this chapter so it was kind of funny. I think that Michael Cera kid was in it, too. Is it me or does he always play the exact same character? I'm rambling now... Annnnyways, thanks for reading and GO HAWKS =)
