A/N – prepare yourself :)

Grand Romantic Gestures

Chapter Five – Part Two

Eric watched his brother down sips of scotch between every photo, the sullen frown not leaving Chuck's lips even as the tart liquid burned beyond them. Eric tried to craft a statement that would disarm the game his brother was playing: Something about how drinking oneself to oblivion one day and avoiding a single drop for the next two was probably no better than being outright smashed on a daily basis. He considered, reworked but couldn't find the insult that was subtle enough to provoke the conversation he wanted. Chuck would carve through his bullshit before he was done speaking. "I thought I could talk to my mom," Eric suggested instead, "show her the pictures."

"Not worth the energy," Chuck admitted and seeing that Eric had collected more evidence than he could hope to manage, Chuck proceeded to fill the younger brother in on his mother's escapade.

"You agreed not to tell Bart?" Eric repeated in surprise.

"She promised me it was nothing and that it was over."

Eric nodded his head contemplatively and Chuck quickly grew uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter what I said. She didn't uphold her half of the bargain."

"So are you going to call your dad?"

Chuck didn't have an answer for that, at least not the answer he wanted to have. He ought to have his father's best interests in mind but telling his father would end this family they'd created. He didn't want to be alone, and perhaps worse, he didn't want to live with only his father. Not that he'd admit that to Eric or anyone else. He needed another scheme: something else. And then, as if to answer his unspoken prayer, an idea sparked. "I have a plan," he decided while the details still formed.

"Yes," Eric waited expectantly.

"I'll be back," He promised and reached for his coat. He'd slipped it halfway on when he stopped. "Unless you'd like to come with me."

"I have a call of my own to make."

Chuck nodded his head slowly and reached for the pictures. "I'm going to need these." He informed rather than asked; shoving them half into his pocket before he even met his brother's eyes. Eric gave a curt nod and Chuck was to his feet, the spark of an idea changing to an outright scheme as he moved, bringing with it a charged excitement.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Eric stared at the nondescript door and hesitated. He had the key in his pocket but he didn't feel like using it that night. He formed a fist instead, knocking against the layer of wood. After a moment Damien answered. The scent of paint greeted him again, signalling Damien's rebirth as the distinguished artist. The Brit put one paint splattered toe behind the other, stepping back to allow Eric entrance. He might have inquired as to Eric's mood, but the glowering frown coupled with his immediate departure from Bedford that afternoon, made the implication clear.

"How did it go?" Damien asked. "With your mother."

"Are you worried?" Eric's brow rose in challenge. "Afraid that Rufus will be angry if I rock the boat."

"Why would I be?"

"You have quite the history of putting the career first?"

"What?" Damien was genuinely shocked. "What! Of course not!"

Eric stared the Brit up and down, the shaky re-established trust on the line. He crossed his arms instinctively, measuring every movement of the other boy's eyes or chin. "Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I just thought, after what you told me about your mom, that she'd likely grow bored. I didn't think it was worth wrecking havoc."

"My mother doesn't grow bored until she sends the white dress to the cleaners."

"I didn't..."

"You would have if you had talked to me about it," Eric spoke with a harsh edge. He was in the right.

"It's just..." Damien took a deep breath. "You're so much younger..." It was three years! It hardly deserved the moniker much. "I thought if I could protect you..."

"Are you kidding me?" Eric's harshness changed to humour. This was probably the worst explanation he could have anticipated, perhaps touching on some odd level, but definitely the worst. "Damien," Eric took a deep breath and excused the Brit's blunder for what it was. "You don't get to make those decisions for me. I'm more than capable of handling things myself."

"I know that," Damien admitted. "I'm not good at this stuff."

"If you're talking about cheating then I'm glad."

"No," Damien dismissed the idea and then, realizing what he'd suggested, backtracked. "I mean yes!" God dammit! He used to be so smooth! "It's just that when you ..." Eric watched his boyfriend struggle for the word and his own breath caught in anticipation of it. "Care," The Brit detoured around it and Eric tried not to feel disappointed, "about someone it's hard to not want to shelter them."

"That's cute," Eric insisted "but I can handle things better than you."

"Whatever," Damien rolled his eyes.

"Love you lover," Eric said lightly as he turned towards the kitchen, leaving his older boyfriend sputtering in his wake.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Blair sat on the edge of a log, darkened wilderness blanketing her from every side. If you asked her where she imagined herself a year ago this would definitely be the last option. Staring at the brunette boy poke the fire, she decided he would have been the most unlikely candidate. It was odd, they'd been dating for over two months and he was still the unlikely boyfriend. They should have fallen into some sort of routine. It didn't feel like that. At times they debated, at others she confessed things she probably shouldn't, but that was the extent of her affection and she supposed his. She should have felt comfortable with him. She didn't. He was still Dan Humphrey and she often caught herself wondering how and why he'd snuck into her life plan. How had Dan carved a niche large enough to shelter in? The smoke shifted with the wind, pushing across the small space and directly into Blair's face. She brushed it angrily away, considered shifting with it and again debated why the hell she'd agree to come. Ah yes! It was because she was the adulterer. She had the "A" tattooed across her heart, though perhaps she ought to have carved it into her wrist instead; that way she could refer to it as miserable night changed to miserable morning.

The pine trees cracked and swung in the evening breeze, sounds that still scared Blair several hours after she first heard them. She wouldn't admit to being scared. Dan might try to comfort her. They'd arrived at the campground after sunset, having driven out after school instead of leaving Saturday morning like any sensible person might. Not that a sensible Upper East Sider would even chose camping as their weekend enjoyment. Another crack of wood and Blair pulled the woollen blanket tighter around her, wrapping one end fully around her head, obscuring everything but her face. It didn't help. At least she was warmer. Blair Waldorf was wearing fleece! Dan had insisted she borrow his sweater (plaid no less!) and measured against the chill of the night it seemed like a reasonable compromise. She shivered again and considered barking at her, whatever he was, to get another blanket from the RV. The vehicle was Dan's sole concession to her lifestyle. She'd rented it. She'd have rented a larger one but he preached prudence then admitted he'd be scared to drive anything as large as she had considered. It was something. Despite the magnitude of her sins, Blair Waldorf was not bedding down under nylon. Not now: not at the end of February. Only Dan Humphrey could suggest camping when there was snow piled to each side of the highway. But he swore everything would be alright because apparently Dan was some undercover boy scout. Well, kind of. He was the type that couldn't make a fire that didn't smoke, and whose culinary offerings consisted of half-cooked wieners and burnt marshmallows. She'd have puked it up already but apparently the campsites offerings consisted of a hole in the ground, and the tin can they were staying in didn't exactly offer enough privacy.

Perhaps she'd skipped right past purgatory and ended in hell.

"It's a beautiful night," Dan sighed into the winter air, eyes twinkling to match the star-filled sky. Blair considered looking up she was afraid any sudden movements would result in another cool draft finding the back of her neck. "Blair," Dan nearly whined and Blair remembered her commitment. She forced her eyes upward and the sight took her breath away. The sky was clear, a sheet of black broken only by thousands of sparkling beams. They glimmered in random patterns, brightened and darkened only to draw her eye from one to another. "You don't get a view like that in New York." Blair was startled by the voice.

"There are other views in the city, beautiful things," Blair countered, her mask reforming layer by layer.

Dan didn't support or contradict her argument. He just sat further back into the log that served as a seat, stretched his legs out to warm by the fire. "My parents used to take Jenny and me here every summer: when we were little."

"Couldn't afford a real vacation?" Blair snickered, pulling her blanket tighter again.

"What's a real vacation?"

"Paris, Milan..."

"I'm sure they're lovely places," Dan decided. "But even the most beautiful backdrop can't make something real if it's not spent with people who truly love you."

"My parents love me," Blair snapped.

"I never said they didn't," Dan reminded her. "But I will always love those summers." He started and Blair stayed silent. He described in detail exactly why and the picture he painted was excruciating in its detail: the loving father and mother, the doting sister. Blair had to cut him off before he went too far.

"All good things come to an end," Blair reminded him. "My parents were very happy once too. We were a very close family."

"I'm sorry," Dan offered and Blair, for all her aloofness found herself offering a sincere sentiment in return. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

Blair stared at the brunette in disbelief? Why would she want to revisit that? "I try not to think about it."

"Why?"

Blair turned away from him and studied their pathetic fire, the burning ambers that barely rose up in actual flame. "Because it hurts."

"So why hold onto it?"

"I'm not! We don't talk about things like this."

"You mean the elite don't have feelings?"

Blair stared again. "You have no idea. Everything you ever do will be brilliant; everything you ever write will be meaningful, say will be purposeful. You have no dynasty to placate, if you make a mistake no one cares about it. You can always reach upward. When your family is already at the top there's only one way to go and heaven forbid if you're the one to take the step that starts the spiral. For you the world is ready to conquer, our only mission is to defence."

"I understand."

Blair laughed at the mere thought that Dan Humphrey could understand what it meant to be a Waldorf, or a Van der Woodsen or even an Archibald. "You could probably craft a five hundred page novel around the concept, construct tension, fashion characters that lived and breathed but you'd still never understand."

"You're afraid of weakness."

Blair took another swig of the water that passed as coffee. She didn't say anything. She hated that he could reduce her diatribe to a single sentence, but even more so because that same sentence summarized every thought.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Chuck leaned against the older brick building, cigarette dangling from his lips, orange trench coat entirely out of place in the land of jeans and hooded sweaters. He'd considered calling outright, dialling the three digit code and demanding to be seen. There were too many drawbacks to the being straightforward: Rufus might be at home, Jenny might pick up, or Dan could slam the phone down upon hearing his drawl. Chuck preferred to play the odds. So he waited for a target, someone needing a bit of attention. He needed to charm his way into the building. He had little doubt that Dan would listen if confronted with the facts, or act once in full understanding. Dan might have had his faults, but his perchance for priggish moralizing was going to help their cause. Chuck tossed the lit butt to the side as a portly woman struggled to balance two grocery bags and hold the thick glass door. This was going to be easier than he thought.

Chuck stood in front of the cherry door. He'd had to check the unfamiliar number downstairs, twice; just to be sure he reached the right place. He should have knocked already but every time he reached up something stopped him. It shouldn't have been that hard. He was Chuck freaking Bass. He hammered loudly, tapping his feet impatiently in time. He wanted this over and down with.

The door opened almost immediately and when Chuck caught sight of who was behind it he breathed a little easier. At least it wasn't a Humphrey. Vanessa froze in surprise when she caught sight of who the visitor was, black curls staying still against her pale face, thin arms staying on the doorknob. "Chuck?" She finally forced into the silence.

"Get Humphrey for me," Chuck demanded loudly as he leaned against the door frame.

"Can't do it," Vanessa didn't even flinch. She crossed her arms across her chest. "The whole family is away for the weekend."

"Then what are you doing here?" He asked sarcastically.

"I'm house-sitting and trying to write." She tried to hurry his departure.

"How cute," Chuck rolled his eyes. "So the Humphrey clan is on a little family vacation?"

"Rufus is in Boston, Jenny is with her mom and Dan took a trip with Blair." Perhaps she didn't need to mention the details, but she couldn't resist the dig. It seemed the logical response to Chuck's bravado. Neither could she resist the guilt once the truth carved through Chuck's intoxicated brain.

"Dan and Blair took a trip together?" Chuck couldn't stop either the repetition or the hitch as he uttered the words. He waited for her confirmation, tried to keep his jaw from clenching, but it moved despite his intent. Why was it even shocking? Blair'd been dating Dan for ages. He'd saw their chaste pecks between classes, the casually held hands. It wasn't the overeager make out sessions of Blair and Nate. Maybe he'd been lulled into thinking that was the extent of Blair and Dan's relationship.

"They went camping," Vanessa explained, her voice naturally dropping lower, hand pulling Chuck into the apartment. She wasn't sure why she did it. It just looked like, well of course it wouldn't be that, but it did look like Chuck Bass was going to cry in the hallway.

"Camping," Chuck laughed aloud at the thought, sound more disbelief than mirth. "In the Waldorf limo?"

"They rented something."

"They rented a car?" Chuck took a deep breath, trying to stop the clenching in his chest from spreading upward. When he chanced a look at Vanessa he realized it was in vain. She was staring at him with genuine pity. He was thankful for it: the anger it sparked let him focus elsewhere. He decided to pick something else, anything else. "Dan knows how to drive?"

"Of course! He'd known for over a year."

Chuck pulled his phone from his pocket, happy for the distraction. Vanessa stared to talk through his dial tone but Chuck put a finger up to silence her. She gasped in shock but nevertheless obeyed. "I'd like you to book some driving lessons." Chuck demanded as his father's assistant answered. He paused as the older woman spoke her piece. "Yes I know you can't drink and drive," Chuck repeated and Vanessa tried to contain her laughter. Chuck leaned back against the door, eyes narrowing naturally, "Yes I know what a zero tolerance policy is," He rolled his eyes and then truly considered. "Just forget I asked," He finally barked and shut the phone.

By the time he looked up Vanessa was nearly falling over with the attempt to keep her laughter in check. She didn't know why she was trying. Perhaps it was how sad he'd looked when she'd mentioned Dan and Blair's little trip. "Just laugh and be done with it," He snapped, the lack of humour killing Vanessa's. Vanessa straightened up and stared the enigma in the eye.

"Would you like to leave Dan a note?" Vanessa asked. "I mean, you could leave your number and I'm sure he'd call you back.

Chuck couldn't help but defer to her logic. He tapped his side pocket and the photographs they held. "Do you have an envelope?"

"I'm sure I can find one," Vanessa stood back, shutting the door as she retreated, waving at the pile of shoes to one side.

Chuck eyed the towering stack of shoes and decided that the Humphrey loft needed a house cleaner. He seriously debated adding his priceless loafers to the collection of manufactured heels. Maybe if he hesitated long enough he wouldn't need to truly step into the space. "Chuck?" Vanessa called from across the loft, waving note pad and pen. He kicked the stack to one side and, once the barrier was breeched, tossed his trench to the other pile. Despite the months his stepsister had devoted to the younger resident, Chuck had never been inside the Humphrey loft but it was exactly as he imagined it, if not a bit dingier. The walls were light, but the space was so overcrowded with photographs that it created a darker appearance; an absurd number of family photo frames marking Christmases, birthdays and parts in between. It couldn't quite compare with professional design but after another quick glance perhaps design couldn't compare with this.

He felt entirely out of place as his eyes swam between the personal touches cluttering every inch. It wasn't as it ought to be. He should have marched in like reigning royalty. Instead he felt closed in by the chaotic mess. "Are you alright?" Vanessa's voice broke through his internal monologue. His eyes turned abruptly to hers, his narrowed eyes hesitating just slightly over her eyes. They were a fascinating colour, almost violet under the right light. He snatched the pad and sat wordlessly at the breakfast bar. He had a bar like it in his own suite, except his was chiselled out of granite, not carved out of dark wood. His was pristine; this one showed its age through countless crisscrossing scratches and a single circular burn mark. The stupid thing was that Chuck knew that there would be a story behind each one.

"Pen," he barked and held his hand expectantly. He didn't even look up as the tiny cylinder was laid against his palm. He did when he drew the pen down and saw the pink, fluffy ball suspended on a spring. He chanced a look upward, the contented grin on Vanessa's features causing him to fight one from his own. He turned back to the paper and the battle between smirk and incredulous glare intensified. The paper was shaped in an enormous heart, pinks and blues competing with a ridiculous amount of glitter. "This is the best you could do," Chuck dismissed her.

"I was pressed for time."

Chuck just shook his head, smile initially winning the war before being swallowed up by his task. He put pen to paper but no words materialized. He knew what he wanted to say. Stop your father from fucking my stepmother. Somehow that didn't have the right ring. Vanessa shifted awkwardly behind him, moving from his side to stand within the kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink?" Vanessa finally offered as the time passed and Chuck hadn't managed his chore.

Chuck snorted at her suggestion. "Can or bottle?" He could almost hear her roll her eyes as she moved away, staring up as she dug through several cupboards, eyes flitting from her to the tiny cooking space. One entire wall was a push pin board. There were writing samples, ticket stubs and hundreds of pictures pressed one upon the other. He felt like the proverbial outsider spying on a happy family. The Bass men put nothing on display, erased the past before they'd even progressed beyond it. This space had so many pictures of their family, father and mother. If you didn't look carefully, notice the fact that each parent always appeared separately, then you might have imagined that they were still the perfect nuclear unit. How could Rufus destroy another family while playing at father of the year? He was as much a hypocrite as his son.

Vanessa put a glass in front of him, drawing his attention back to the present moment. He eyed the amber liquid with disbelief, once his eyes trailed along the bar to the bottle his disbelief tripled. "Scotch right?" Vanessa remembered.

"How?" Chuck eyed the three hundred dollar bottle in shock.

"Rufus likes a good drink time and again," Vanessa enlightened him. "The operative words being time and again: This bottle's been laying her for six months already."

Chuck took the glass in his hand and tried to forget that the same bottle wouldn't last six days with him.

"So are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"

"It's strictly on a need to know basis."

"Dan will tell me sooner or later."

"He might have reason not to."

"Is it true then?" Vanessa asked. "That story about you and Blair?"

Chuck's eyes moved at her question, returning to the punch board and the perfect family. "This is not about that." He avoided the question as his eyes weaved. They caught in the left corner, casual observer replaced by obsessed examiner. He saw the chestnut curls first, flung from one side of a photo to the other: her eyes beckoned from another, mischievous but light: her hands pulled at him even as they covered Dan's chest. Blair was laughing, deep throaty chuckles that he swore he could hear despite the two dimensions of film. Something inside dragged, pulled, jerked from side to side: Perhaps the last few ticks of his heart before final silence. He ought to have turned away, but just like the first time, the swing set and the smiles it was entirely captivating. His glass emptied even before he realized he was drinking. "How come you didn't end up with Dan?" He spat, trying to pretend the other brunette in Blair's place.

"Some things are priceless just the way they are." Vanessa refilled his glass and then poured one of her own.

"I could make it worth your while," Chuck turned back to the waifish girl and smirked. "Five times what I offered before."

"Like I said, some things are priceless, some friendships aren't worth losing." Vanessa's lips curled in a smirk to match his. "Why don't you try to win her back?"

"She looks happy with Dan."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

"She deserves someone more like Dan."

"I think she deserves someone like you," Vanessa countered and Chuck knew she didn't mean it in the complimentary sense.

"You don't know her," Chuck defended Blair and by doing so Vanessa began to understand something she'd long wondered: What Chuck Bass truly thought of himself. "She was there for me through everything, not just last year but before. It was my fault that things went to hell."

"I never understood why. Nate told me bits and pieces but I never understood how Georgina managed to better both of you. I figured you both had enough strength of mind to defeat the antichrist," Vanessa moved from behind kitchen to take the empty stool beside him. "Or create it."

He snorted at the idea, tipping his scotch again.

"Why don't you tell me about it?"

Chuck stared at her in disbelief, a thousand snarky comments forming on his lips to reaffirm the needed distance. He opened his mouth to silence her curiosity but that's not what came forth. "You'd better keep pouring if you want to know." Vanessa did as told, filling the chipped glass to the brim. It was a few splashes on already heavy evening consumption, not enough to bring forth the words that were already forming in his mouth.

"Georgina was my first love," Chuck acknowledged for the first time, waiting instinctively for the walls to cave in or the floor to open up and swallow him. It didn't, the only thing that broke was Vanessa's detached neutrality.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

"Was it true," Dan finally broached the subject as the first embers of morning light invaded their campground. Blair knew the topic had likely been on his mind since they left. It was probably his sole purpose in dragging her here: To get her to confess. She eyed the stones that were gathered in a circle around the fire. Would he throw them at her? He seemed like the stoning type except it was 2009 not 1609. Maybe he would stab her to death with the oversized cooking fork and then feed her body to a pack of stray wolves. It was a more modern solution to their problem? "Did you sleep with Chuck?"

"I did," Blair said despite the danger, fingers shaking just slightly against her tea cup. She waited for the litany of insults, the overly developed opinions and expressed judgement. She waited a good ten minutes but it never came and that made Blair's fingers shake so hard that she put the cup aside. "Don't you want to know why?" She finally broke the silence.

"I think I already know," Dan admitted and removing one hand from beneath his blanket he threaded his warm fingers through her cold ones, rubbing her fingers idly with his thumb. "You love Chuck Bass."

"You love Serena Van der Woodsen."

"I can't believe she's with Nate."

"He's such a better fit for her," Blair decided.

"Thanks!"

"What? It's obvious."

"You might find that people fit together in ways you never imagined, and don't fit together no matter how much they should or want to."

Blair stared across at the brown-haired boy and wondered just who he was talking about because it didn't seem like Serena or Nate, or even Dan and Serena or Chuck and Blair."

It sounded a hell of a lot like them.

The later part anyway.

He kept talking, a tidal wave or words that had finally been set free. It's like her cheating had freed him to discuss his own thoughts, most of which centred on her blonde best friend. He waited for her reciprocate and she did at first. It was nice to be understood. She almost felt free, at least for the first twenty minutes. After that, well, she just kind of wished he would shut up. She buried herself deeper under the blanket, listened to his torrent of feelings, deciding as one hour lapsed into another that no matter how hard she tried, Blair Waldorf could never going to love the sentimental type. She wanted to stab him: she wanted to feed him to the wolves. "Can we talk about something other than Serena or Chuck," Blair finally spat out.

"Of course," Dan quickly agreed but then just as quickly lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

That's just great! Blair thought to herself. She never had a relationship; she had a steady progression of after school specials. The uncomfortable minute dragged into another, and then another and Blair swore she could hear crickets chirping but there were never crickets in New York.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

By the time Chuck had guided Vanessa through his twisted tale, they were both staring at the bottom of a bottle of ____ and Chuck was wondering how the hell they'd ended there. He'd just told his life story to a complete stranger. Okay, maybe they weren't complete strangers but it was close enough. The strange thing was he didn't feel the way he thought he would. He could feel the embarrassment creep up his throat but it wasn't closing it off as he expected. The anger had dulled rather than grown through the retelling, the pain as real as it was then but muted by the time that had passed.

He very nearly felt better for it.

"That was..." Vanessa's voice trailed off and she savoured the last of the scotch.

"Yeah," Chuck threw the last of his own drink back. He grabbed his cell from the counter and started flicking through. He needed something to occupy his fingers, to keep his eyes from looking up.

"I..."

Chuck laid the phone back down and without meeting Vanessa's violet eyes asked the question that underlay everything else. "I just don't understand how I could have loved someone like that." That was the issue that always lingered in his mind. How could he love someone who stole his dignity and soul along with his heart? He'd built enough walls to prevent it from happening for years after, but he'd never understood why it had happened first.

"It doesn't sound like you loved her," Vanessa philosophized and it caught the boy's attention. He turned immediately her way. "It sounds like you loved what she did for you."

Chuck let the thought fester a moment, certain comfort in the idea that he might not have truly loved Georgina. It was undone by the idea that he wanted what she had done. "How could I have loved what we did? Do you know how much I hurt my dad? I made him cry," Chuck finally admitted and the mere thought made the tears start in his own eyes, clouding them over until his brown eyes turned a glassy black. "Not a couple little tears, I made him full out cry...gagging sobs." Vanessa put a hand to his shoulder, her own shock mixing with empathy to create warmth that transferred from her fingertips to his shoulders. "I would have to be a monster to have loved that," He admitted between his own tears.

Vanessa put a hand out and brushed the hair from his eyes. "I can't believe I'm going to say this but you, Chuck Bass," Vanessa put a finger to his chin and made his eyes meet the sincerity in hers, "are not that bad."

There was something in those words, the quiet belief that he wasn't the devil he pretended to be and secretly believed he truly was. It lifted something from within and if it didn't stop the tears, at least it let a genuine smile peak through then. "I'm not that bad?" He repeated, a playfulness emerging bit by bit.

"I suspect," Vanessa admitted, hand still to his chin, her own eyes lightening in teasing. "That a part of you might just be great."

His genuine smile tugged at the end, a tiny smirk playing at one corner, tears slowing underneath her belief in him. It might not be the person who needed to forgive him, but it was something. It was something good. Like the softness of her hand underneath his chin, the unbroken examination of her eyes. "Thank you," He whispered into their small divide, watching as it grew smaller, realizing in the last minute that he wasn't the initiator.

Vanessa kissed him urgently and he let her lead a moment until his natural instincts took over, guiding the movement of his hands. He grabbed the back of her head, each balancing precariously on their stools as their tongues touched. Her shirt was ripped before they collapsed to the floor, backs pinned against linoleum, hands everywhere else. He was inside her, his name was on her lips before either considered exactly where they were, or the hundred reasons why this was an entirely bad decision.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

A/N – Sorry it was a bit longer for this post, I'm working on report cards right now (at least it was a long post). The next couple posts might be delayed. I hope you don't kill me for the CV. CV has always been my secondary ship (after BC) so I couldn't resist throwing a bit in :)

I had to add one more comment on the episode before the last one. The head teacher so wouldn't have taken Ms. Carr's side with what happened between her and Blair (the Opera). Teachers aren't supposed to fraternize with their students after school. They finally got that right the next episode (with Serena & Carr and Dan & Carr), but I was shaking my head wondering why they were punishing Blair when Carr shouldn't have planned to meet a student in the first place. Sorry, this storyline is really bothering me (for obvious reasons).

Puresimplicity – Chuck and Blair find their resolution before they graduate. We're in the beginning of March right now so still a lot of time to solve their problems.

Bradshaw-esque – Chuck might wish he'd slept with Nate instead. Despite Chuck's advice, Eric is definitely going to confront his mother and he won't be the only one.

Doxeh – It wasn't actually the Jenny cameo but it set up the actual cameo. I hadn't planned on writing her in there but I thought you guys would need a transition to understand what she'd been up to since the beginning of TH. She's basically been trying to crawl her way back up by trying to date the right guys etc. As for DB being a fail, I totally agree. I think they've been a fail since the first time they kissed but alas I'm enjoying having the train wreck chug further along.

Ashtondene – I think Chuck's self-esteem is too much in the toilet at the moment to worry about making Blair love him. He has to get through his current issues first and until that I don't think they could be successful together.

CBEBTR troryl12 – thanks :) DB have been on their last legs since day one. They just don't really mesh.

BRKOD – Sorry, no VD (hides). I just love their dynamic as friends so much that I haven't figured how to take that and turn it into a romance without it being outright boring.

Sky Samuelle – I love that you took Chuck's side. Most of the rest of the readers were supporting Blair. It was cute to see such a division (and fun too, it's nice to see I can drag people in different directions). I tend to side more with Chuck too. Blair really did use him and he took it because his self-esteem is at an all time low at the moment. This chapter is the first on the road upward.

Annablake – I think Nate and Serena do suffer from the lack of substance. I've tried to pen a few scenes for the two of them but it's missing something.

Xcshortie – thanks :)

GrantingTroyTurner – ding, ding, and ding. You are the only one to guess the OMFG coupling right. I am also a CV shipper (to a lesser degree than CB though) and I had their little storyline sketched out before the CV on the show.

:D – thanks :)

Up Next – the moment most of you have been anticipating since the end of YCFYF, Chuck and Vanessa...errr..maybe, and someone is about to take their last transatlantic flight...yep, the very LAST one.