A/N: Goes AU at end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely conversation between Chuck and Blair about "if two people are meant to be together…" didn't end on that bittersweet note? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months.
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Before Nate registered that it was Blair standing outside his door, she had already flung herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. As he instinctively reached up to stroke her hair, he wondered what could possibly have gone wrong this time. According to Serena, Henry had come up with an ironclad plan to force Chuck and Blair to come to terms with everything that had happened around them. Serena seemed absolutely certain that Blair would wind up being the future Mrs. Chuck Bass. But from the sounds of her hiccupping and near hyperventilation, he suspected things had not gone as predicted. Nate didn't know if he had ever seen her so distraught before—it was as if she were literally suffocating in front of him. After what felt like hours, her sobs seemed to have mildly subsided.
"Blair! What's wrong?" Nate crooned softly into her ear. "Tell me what happened."
This set off yet another wave of tears and hysteria. He was beginning to get scared as he maneuvered her out of the entryway and towards the large sectional couch in his living room. When she yanked herself out of his embrace and threw herself onto the settee and continued her wailing, he was officially frightened. He leaned over and said, "I'll be right back. I'm going to make you some tea."
As he walked into the kitchen, he reached for his cell phone, and quickly punched in the all too familiar digits. As the phone rang, he busied himself with putting the kettle on the stove and searched for the fancy tea Blair had sent him from Hong Kong last year. He remembered receiving the package and being completely clueless as to why she would send him something so…girly. When he called to ask her why, she had just snottily informed him that it wouldn't hurt to have something soothing and appropriate on hand when he was entertaining a proper female. Who would've guessed that she had essentially sent the tea to him for her future self? As he was about to slam down the phone, he heard a familiar voice drawl, "Nathaniel—to what do I owe this pleasure?"
Despite the fact that Nate knew he should be groveling, seeing Blair in such a state had him ready to rip Chuck a new one. But the unmistakable hollowness in Chuck's tone had Nate changing his tactic. Instead of yelling obscenities, he hissed, "Care to enlighten me on why Blair has been sobbing hysterically in my living room for the past hour? When we last spoke you implied that you would stop bringing chaos into her life."
"I'm trying to!" Chuck said brokenly.
"Her crying uncontrollably is you trying to stop hurting her?" Nate wondered incredulously. "Are you out of your mind? In what universe is that any kind of a rational statement?"
"You were right, all I do is hurt her." The whisper was barely audible. "I let her go, so I could never hurt her again."
"You're a complete idiot, you know that?" And with that, Nate hung up the phone and threw it on the counter.
He was trembling in frustration. More than anything he wanted to go to Chuck's and beat the shit out of him—until he saw reason. But he could only deal with one best friend at a time. Nate prepared the jasmine tea to the exact specifications Blair's handwritten note had detailed. He placed the porcelain teapot on a tray, and rummaged through his cabinet and found some cookies that he laid out on a plate.
When he reentered the living room, Blair was sitting upright. Blotchy-faced, puffy eyes and all, she couldn't help but drop her jaw at the sight in front of her. "When did Nate Archibald become domesticated?"
With a sheepish grin he softly explained, "Can't have my favorite girl pause her crying to tell me I've incorrectly set out a tea tray, now can I?"
"Oh, Nate! Why can't I still be in love with you?" Blair cried, as a fresh set of tears poured out of her.
"There, there," Nate soothed. He fixed her a cup of tea and handed it to her. "Because we're not kids anymore, Blair. And somewhere along the line you fell out of love with me, and in love with that moron I'm still calling my best friend. Besides, you find me exhausting."
His words squeezed a fond smile out of Blair as she started to sip her tea. "True. Who would have thought I'd have the fortitude to send you tea for my own use? This is so delicious!"
"I even prepared it step-by-step with your attached instructions," he gently teased. "Now, are we done avoiding the subject, or are you going to tell me what happened?"
Her expression froze as Nate watched the pain cross her face, as though she was reliving her worst nightmare over and over again. But suddenly she shook herself and in a shaky voice she spoke, "He said that he was a better person without me. That since I've been gone, he hasn't hurt anyone."
"Those were his exact words, that he was a better person without you?" he demanded, awestruck.
"Huh?" Blair looked up, confused.
"Did he actually say the words 'I'm a better person without you'?" Nate clarified, impatiently.
Blair thought carefully, "No, but I'm sure that's what he meant. He said he was a better person, that even if he hasn't been happy since I've left, he hasn't hurt anyone, either."
"Idiots, the pair of them. They're a matched set," he mumbled to himself as he shook his head.
"Excuse me?" Blair's indignant voice interrupted Nate from his thoughts. "Nathaniel Fitzwilliam Archibald, did you just call me an idiot?"
Nate looked over at Blair's distraught face. "Yes!"
The shock on Blair's face was priceless, but he was exhausted from this rigmarole that had started their junior year in high school. Chuck and Blair's little dance had been going on for over seven years, and he just didn't understand how everyone could see it but them.
"Do you remember the night of Tripp and Maureen's rehearsal dinner?" Nate asked abruptly.
"What are you talking about?" Blair snapped. She was still smarting from Nate yelling at her and calling her an idiot.
"DO-YOU-REMEMBER-THE-NIGHT-OF-TRIPP-AND-MAUREEN'S-REHEARSAL-DINNER?" he repeated slowly, as though she were a child who had to be spoken down to.
"What does that night have to do with anything? And don't talk to me that way Nate!" she shot back.
"Just answer the damn question, Blair! Do you remember it or not?" he asked again, refusing to back down.
"Yes!" Blair took a deep breath, as she slowly started to remember that particular evening. In a sad quiet voice, she recited the events of that night. "That was when you found out that your grandfather had been responsible for your dad going to prison. You were mad at me because I had agreed to convince you to go to Yale in order to be a bridesmaid and get the spot on the Whitney committee. But once you explained what happened, I changed my mind, I had decided that you were more important than my misguided society ambitions."
Nate's expression softened, "I know that now, Blair. I'm not trying to blame you for anything here. But you remember how upset I was, right? How I said some hurtful things to you?"
Blair nodded. "But you came back, Nate, and you forgave me. You knew I was just so scared about not having what I had planned out happen. You gave me another chance."
"Yes, but I never told you why, did I?"
"No…" her voice tailed off. "It wasn't you just being nice?"
"Sorry, but no."
"Oh, I see."
"After I left, I went to Chuck's," he announced. Her eyes widened in shock. "Over a glass of scotch, I told him what you had done, and I asked him if I was stupid for thinking you had changed. Do you know what he said?"
She didn't know if she wanted to hear the answer. There were so many moments between Nate and Chuck that she had never felt privy to. Blair had been the girl from high school who had gone back and forth between the two friends, just as Nate had done with her and Serena. But she knew that Nate wasn't rehashing the buried past, just to torture her, there had to be a point. "Tell me, Nate."
"He said that it was stupid for me to want you to be anything other than you were. And that you just needed someone to believe in you."
"He did?" Blair asked in awe. Tears were threatening to surface again. It still took her breath away, the depth of Chuck's love at various times in their lives. She had remembered him telling her once, during that only summer they had been together, how he had tried to do everything to make her happy—even if it meant it was without him. That sometimes Chuck thought he had never loved her more than during that time, when she was breaking his heart all over again by getting back together with Nate. The jealousy that had consumed him—that she found Nate to be that comforting, favorite old sweater, something Chuck never knew if she would ever feel about him.
"You're falling in love with him, all over again, aren't you?" Nate interrupted with bemused grin.
She hadn't realized that she was smiling.
"So now it's his turn. Chuck's scared of hurting you again, and it is stupid for you to want him to be anything other than who he is. Now he just needs you to believe in him," Nate paraphrased.
When she threw her arms around him this time, it was gratefully and a silent thank you.
He pulled back slightly so his eyes could meet hers. "I can't believe I'm gong to say this, but, you guys tried this the very mature and adult way. You've tried it the normal way. I'm sorry, but neither you nor Chuck is normal. So do this the Chuck and Blair way. Come up with Plan A, B and C, up to Z, if you have to, and don't give up until you get your way, ok?"
She flashed her signature Blair Waldorf smile at him. Nate was right—she wasn't being herself—she hadn't been in a very long time. She wasn't ordinary, she was extraordinary. Blair wasn't going to let Chuck let her go without a fight, and if she went down, then he would go down with her.
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Beep.
"Dude! This is the fifth time I've called in the last hour, when are you going to pick up your phone? I know you're still mad at me right now, but there's no need to be an ass about it. Your birthday's on Monday—let's do dinner—you, me, Serena and Blair. I'll even invite Henry if you want me to."
Beep.
"Don't think I didn't see you sneak out the back entrance at Bass Industries, just now. You're lucky that I had a cup of coffee in my hand, or I would've been able to run and jump in front of the limo. Arthur would've stopped, he loves me. Stop hiding, man."
Beep.
"Look, either pick up the phone and call me back or I'll have to call for reinforcements. I'm just asking for you to come out to dinner, not have a civil ceremony."
Beep.
"Grow the fuck up! Pick up your phone."
Beep.
"Chuck? It's Serena. I thought you were supposed to call me. If you're not going to call Nate back, could you please call me back?" There was a slight hesitation. "Blair and I would really love nothing more than for the four of us to celebrate your birthday together this year. Come on—non-judging breakfast club and all. Please, think about it."
Beep.
"What if I bring you some joints…with kief? It'll be like old times! We can get baked before dinner!"
Beep.
"I don't know if you know this, but this would be my attempt at trying to be a good friend! Can't very well be making it up to you, if you're not making yourself available. C'mon, Chuck! Just call me back!"
Beep.
"Nathaniel, your loquacious messages are irritating, at best. If I agree to dinner, I have your word, the calls will stop?"
Beep.
"7pm at Butter. No more calls, pinky swear, man!"
Beep.
"Seriously? Pinky swear? Just stop calling. Fuck Butter! We spent enough time there during high school. Pick somewhere else, and not Per Se—tell Serena it's my birthday, not hers."
Beep.
"How can I stop calling if you keep calling me back? Are you ok with The Lion, then?"
Beep.
"The Lion?" There was a long pause followed by the clearing of a throat. "Only if Blair doesn't mind."
Beep.
"Blair approved—it made her nostalgic. I didn't know you guys had been there together before. Are you ok, man? Do you need a hug?"
Beep.
"I'll take that as a hint. And yes, that means I'll stop calling. See you Monday at 7pm."
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According to Nate, it had been far from easy, but after some intense cajoling, dogged determination and his ability to irritate, Chuck had finally agreed to celebrate his birthday with dinner with the four of them. Blair still felt a slight tinge of guilt at the thought that Henry was alone in San Francisco today. They had spoken just before she left her house for dinner—and for the first time since Blair had met her, Henry had seemed extremely distracted, a touch paranoid, even. Henry thanked her for worrying about her, but said she was glad that Chuck was doing something less morbid for his birthday than going to a cemetery. She wished Blair good luck, and confided that Chuck was nervous about seeing her and that he hoped she knew his intent was just to protect her. Henry's tone conveyed the eye-rolling, Blair could visualize her doing. Just as she had been about to inquire about her trip, Henry abruptly ended the call saying that she was about to enter a dead zone, and promptly hung up.
Blair stared at her phone quizzically. Something was terribly off—but she didn't know Henry well enough to hazard a guess. Maybe it was just how jumpy she sounded, but Blair made a mental note to discuss it with Chuck at some point. She actually wished that Henry was going to be joining them for dinner. Before she could put more thought into it, her doorman buzzed, informing her that the car service had arrived.
She looked out the window, her eyes unfocused. She wondered if Chuck was going to be upset that both Serena and Nate were going to conveniently be about an hour late to dinner. They had volunteered to leave early, as an alternative—but Blair knew that with the lack of thespian abilities the golden duo possessed, Chuck would figure it out, and find a way to keep from being alone with her. Now that she understood what motivated him—his absurd notion that he had to protect her from himself—she knew he'd be a slippery Bass to catch. Fortunately for her, she was more than up for the challenge.
The doorman held the door open while Blair took a deep breath before stepping down and into The Lion. There was a host stand to her left and a small bar to her right. The clock read a quarter to seven.
Blair approached the host, "Bass, party of four."
"Miss Waldorf?"
She nodded, as her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Mr. Bass is at the bar. When the rest of your party arrives, we'll come find you." The host smiled politely, but his eyes twinkled with amusement.
"Actually, I'm afraid the other two members of our party—" she started.
"Mr. Archibald took care of everything," he reassured her with a wink. "We wouldn't want Mr. Bass to catch on, would we? Could I take your coat?"
Blair dipped her head in agreement, and placed her purse on the stand. The host came around from his station and graciously helped her off with her coat. She wore a simple, strapless, eggplant-colored dress. It was snuggly-fitted without being indecent and fell just above her knees. Her hair was pulled loosely away from her face, while her chocolate curls tumbled around her shoulders.
It wasn't how incredibly elegant and sexy she looked—it was the vintage Harry Winston "Holly Wreath" choker he had bought for her, adorning her neck, that had Chuck speechless. When Blair's eyes met his, she offered a smile of chagrin as she walked over. He couldn't stop himself from soaking her look in head-to-toe, she looked absolutely delicious—he was uncertain how he was going to get through dinner in one piece.
He stood up when she reached him, and before he could open his mouth in greeting, her arms twined around his neck as she pressed against him in a warm hug.
"Happy birthday, Chuck," she whispered in his ear.
His hands settled to her waist, and he stopped himself from pulling her any closer. The feel of her body brushing against his and her warm breath dancing on his ear was leading him into dangerous territory. Chuck managed a gravelly thank you, as she kissed him on the cheek before pulling away.
"This is the first time we're celebrating your birthday together," she said softly.
"It is," he confirmed. "And I'm spending it with the most beautiful girl in the world."
"You're just saying that because your bow tie matches my dress," she teased.
Before he could censor his words, the truth stumbled out, "I'm saying it, because I've never seen anyone as beautiful in my life."
His cheeks flushed for a moment, as he watched Blair's lashes flutter and her shy smile spread across her face. Her pleasure at his words did not go unnoticed. Nervously, he glanced around the room. Nate and Serena had better arrive soon, he thought.
"Martini?" He asked.
She cocked her head to the side for a moment, and then shook her head. Chuck's eyes were devouring every gesture and movement she made—he wasn't sure when he'd see her next, and he needed more memories to add to his mental vault.
"I'll just have whatever it is you're having."
"In the mood for Talisker?" He questioned, nodding towards his half filled glass tumbler. Blair was always moody about her single malts.
She bit her lower lip. His eyes were transfixed by her mouth. Chuck watched in rapt fascination as her tongue as she slowly licked her lip. "Do they have the 30 year? Or just the 10?"
"Yes," he said without hearing her question. He continued staring as her mouth kept forming words that made no discernible sounds. He didn't think he had ever wanted to kiss her so badly in his entire life.
It wasn't until she waved a hand in front of his face, that he shook the glaze out of his eyes. Her tinkling laughter warmed his heart, and suddenly, he didn't care that she had caught him not paying attention.
"Penny for your thoughts, billionaire?"
"Sorry. I was just…" he trailed off. His eyes, again, lingered at her mouth. "Pleasantly distracted."
Blair smirked. "Well, I would hope so."
Was she flirting with him?
"I think I'll just have some champagne. I feel like celebrating tonight," she said mysteriously.
"What are we celebrating?"
"Us," she said nonchalantly as she waived down the bartender and ordered her favorite vintage of champagne.
Blair must have felt his shock. She rolled her eyes before clarifying, "Spending your birthday together."
Before he could stop himself from sputtering, the bartender was back, pouring a glass of the 1995 Dom Perignon for her. She gave a glittering smile of thanks before turning back to him, with her glass raised.
Chuck lifted his scotch to clink with her flute.
"To birthdays and old friends," she said sincerely. "May we never be out of each other's lives."
"Cheers," he said softly. The burning sensation of the scotch spilling down his throat was a welcome relief. He was so nervous and antsy—perhaps agreeing to dinner was not such a good idea. But even as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was more than thrilled to be sitting anywhere next to Blair. Deep down inside, Chuck knew that this was the only place in the world he ever wanted to be.
There was a calm radiating from Blair that he hadn't expected, he noted as he continued to collect more mental images. If anything, she was practically glowing. Perhaps she finally felt free of him—free of the burden it had been to belong to him. Why it upset him that she seemed so happy was ridiculous—this was what he wanted. He wanted for her to always be this happy and carefree. Chuck knew he was simply mourning the fact that he had been right to let her go—it had only been one week and she seemed like her old self. Finally he shook his head of these thoughts, it was his birthday, and he was still able to celebrate it with her—it had to be enough.
Blair slowly sipped her champagne as Chuck broodingly stared at his scotch. She could hazard a small guess as to his train of thoughts, but she didn't allow herself to join him there. All she needed was an hour to charm him before she turned his world upside down. It might be a tad naughty of her, but she loved the idea of watching him squirm for their entire meal, knowing that if he got up and left his own birthday dinner, he would be conceding—sort of.
The helpful host approached them before she could continue her subtle tormenting of Chuck. As they were being led to their table, Blair was still relishing in satisfaction that he had been unable to tear his eyes from her lips. She had forgotten what an aphrodisiac being that desired by Chuck Bass felt like. From the moment she had seen him, she felt a lightness that was comfortably unfamiliar. Despite not having been pleased with the end results of their lengthy talk last week—she no longer felt the pangs of sadness and anger that would somehow briefly bubble to the surface. This must be what it felt like to be starting over—really burying the past.
They stopped at a larger table that was set for two. They looked at one another questioningly as they slid into the booth. Before they could ask the inquiry at the tip of their tongues, the host smoothly intervened.
"Mr. Archibald called, he and Miss van der Woodsen are caught in traffic. He insists you start without them, and they will be here as quickly as possible."
Her genuine surprise that the table was set for two, Blair knew, was what saved her from any suspicion. Chuck was far too good at reading her nuanced expressions—and she silently thanked Nate for having the insight to plan ahead. Blair reached for her menu after shrugging at Chuck's slightly suspicious eyes.
A moment later, John Delucie came to the table.
"Chuck! Happy birthday! When Nate called to ask me to personally see to your birthday dinner, I was honored. You didn't tell me it was your birthday!"
"John," Chuck greeted him as he reached out and shook the owner's hand. "I'm normally not in town for my birthday."
"Well, when your birthday date is the beautiful Miss Waldorf, I can understand why a change of plans are in order," John laughed. Turning to Blair he teased, "Miss Waldorf, I'm disappointed to see that you're wearing a dress. I would have gladly made an exception if you wanted to wear a negligee."
Blair's cheeks turned bright red, as she remembered how she had slipped off her dress the moment he had arrived with the dozen lobster pot pies for the board members of Girls, Inc.
John scooped their menus off the table. "Nate pre-ordered dinner. Let me know if there's anything else you two need. Happy birthday, Chuck. Miss Waldorf, it's wonderful to see you again."
He lifted Blair's hand and kissed it, before he shot a parting wink at Chuck.
"So, he's seen you in your negligee?" Chuck asked curiously.
"I may have removed my dress in front of him, before I went to go find you at the Saints and Sinners ball. I didn't have time to change," she said ruefully. "I still haven't tried the lobster pot pie, I hope Nate ordered it."
She flashed Chuck a smile, and was relieved when he smiled back.
The companionable silence that had descended upon them was interrupted by the buzzing of both of their cell phones.
"I'm sure it's Nate," Chuck said, as he pulled out his phone.
"And I'm sure it's Serena," Blair agreed, as she fished for her phone in her purse.
Sorry, B! Nate thought we should sit this one out. Make the most of your time, and wish Chuck a happy birthday for me. —S
Blair had to give them credit, at least they waited until the food had already been ordered before they sprung the news. Especially with John having been out to their table, it would be terribly rude for Chuck to walk out now.
He looked down at his phone. Was it wrong to want to hug Nate?
Happy Birthday! The gift you want most, but won't ask for? Dinner with Blair. I figured maybe I should help, instead of harm. But scout's honor, this is my last bid at 'scheming'. Drinks tomorrow? —N
Suppressing the jubilant emotions at the idea of spending the entire evening alone with Blair, Chuck forced himself to at least offer her an out. "I know this isn't what was planned. But Nate seems hell-bent on playing matchmaker. I understand if you want to leave—"
"Don't be silly! We've always been friends," she insisted, as she shook her head for emphasis.
He exhaled a large sigh of relief.
"Chuck Bass! What is wrong with you?" Blair asked. He could hear the exasperation in her voice. "Did you really think I would have come to dinner, if I didn't want to? You're supposed to get smarter with age. Now, tell me all the details about learning the ropes at Bass Industries…"
Somehow, they managed to have a thoroughly enjoyable dinner. They traded anecdotes over the years—from Chuck telling horror stories about his early mistakes at the helm, to Blair telling him the strangeness of residing in the same country with her four parental figures. The lobster pot pie had been just as exquisite as it had been reviewed, all those years ago. Blair had loudly sung happy birthday to him when the molten lava cake with a sparkler had been brought to their table. Now, they were just lingering over coffee.
"Oh! Before I forget, I got you a present."
"Blair, you didn't have to—"
"With our luck, hand-delivery is best, no?" She asked with a wry smile.
He chuckled nervously. He didn't know if he was ready to make light of their past, it was still all too much. Chuck watched as she opened her purse and pulled out a velvet box, the size of a deck of cards, and slid it across the table to him.
"Happy birthday, again. I would have had it wrapped, but the jeweler took longer than I thought to finish the engraving," Blair said apologetically. "They messed up the first two pairs."
His heart skipped a beat. Engraving? Jeweler? He eyed the box curiously.
"It's not going to bite, Chuck," she laughed. "Open it!"
He flashed a sheepish grin before he reached for the case.
"Do you like it?" Blair asked. Her eyes betrayed no uncertainty.
Chuck nodded as he gazed at the very simple, but well-made onyx cuff links. His eyes furrowed—nowhere did they appear to have any kind of etching.
"It's underneath," she prodded. "You have to take them out of the case and look underneath."
He carefully pulled one of the links out of the box, and flipped it over. He pushed his chair back as it fell out of his hands and onto the table. Chuck looked up and met Blair's eyes.
"I figured this was better than a heart pin," she explained.
"I can't accept this," he said hoarsely.
"It's a gift, one I'm giving of my own free will."
He looked at her. Blair looked completely self-assured. There was no nervousness or even an edge to her. She was completely relaxed, as if it were every day she gave away gifts of this magnitude. His heart started beating even faster. His hands itched to touch the cuff link again—it was unmistakable what Blair had meant. No one could misinterpret the heart-shaped engraving that encircled the initials BW.
"Whenever you wear them and you feel any doubt, you can just look down at your cuffs and you'll know you're wearing my heart on your sleeve."
Chuck stood up abruptly, before she could read the longing on his face. This gift was equally as meaningful to him as the scrapbook had been, but he wouldn't be able to keep it.
"Excuse me." He said, as he quickly walked towards the restrooms near the front of the restaurant. He couldn't hear himself think with how loudly his heart was pounding. Chuck knew if he stayed, he would undo everything. Blair was his kryptonite. He had made his decision—to protect her at the cost of his happiness. Chuck needed to find a waiter, and send him to tell Blair he had left. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, that he missed the telltale sound of her heels approaching him as he paced in the small alcove.
Blair took a quick glance around, and gave a silent prayer for thanks that no would be able to see them. She placed her hand on his shoulder and spun him around. Chuck looked so conflicted—she could see his worry as much as she could feel his hope. Pressing him against the wall, she grabbed one wrist and started to remove the cuff link presently on his shirt as she replaced it with one of hers.
"Blair, please—" he begged.
She ignored him as she focused on replacing the second one. She slipped his old pair into his jacket pocket. "There, all better."
"I really shouldn't accept these—"
She cut him off with a kiss. Her hands reached up and cupped his face as she dove in and plundered his mouth with her tongue. As his mouth molded to hers, and their tongues were in rhythm, a sigh of relief escaped her. His hands caressed her back and he drew her closer to him. He was unable to make himself indifferent to her, she thought victoriously.
Before she could fully lose herself in him, Blair pulled back and looked him squarely in the eye. "Listen up, lover, and listen good. Thanks, but no thanks. Just because you've decided to let me go, doesn't mean that I'm going to let you."
"Please, Blair—"
She kicked him in the shin and he yelped. She arched a brow. "I'd prefer not to be interrupted."
Chuck winced, but nodded in agreement.
"While you think you're doing the right thing, and protecting me from yourself, I think you're being Bassinine. However, you love me and I love you. So, I'm giving you fair notice, game on. Since it's your birthday, I'll let tonight be a reprieve. But come tomorrow, look out—wherever you go, whatever you do—I am going to hunt you down, and I will have you."
Their eyes locked, as she let him read the steely determination behind her words.
"I just want to do right by you. You deserve everything," he implored.
"And I've decided everything is you."
The brief flash of happiness in his eyes did not escape her notice. When the happiness was replaced with guilt, she sighed and stepped back. Of course the Basshole wasn't going to make it easy on her—it had never been easy for them, why should it start now? She ran a finger across his cheek. "Run along, Chuck. You'll need your rest. Tomorrow is the start of our game, and you know how much I hate to lose."
She closed her eyes as she leaned against the wall. When she felt him embrace her again, her eyes flew open.
"Despite everything, thank you," he whispered into her ear. "I couldn't have asked for a more perfect birthday."
And just as quickly as he had hugged her, Chuck pulled away and walked out the restaurant doors. A bittersweet smile crossed her face, maybe it wasn't going to be as difficult as she thought. She walked back to their table to fetch her purse. She signaled to the waiter to send her bill to the bar, perhaps she would have that martini, now.
She took a large sip of her drink as her mind filtered through various plans she had set for the next few days, when a voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Hello, beautiful."
Blair swiveled in her bar stool to look into the familiar face that matched that distinctive voice.
"Carter," she observed. "What are you doing here?"
He slid into the stool next to her, and put his hand on her knee. With a smirk, he replied, "Buying you a drink."
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tbc
A/N: I know, yet another curveball. But fair warning—the old Blair Waldorf, she's back!
For Noirreigne, my beta who rolls with my punches. Thank you for indulging my obsessiveness with this story. You never fail to amaze me.
For my readers and reviewers, I apologize if the transition of Chuck's attitude at the end of the last chapter was a bit abrupt—it wasn't meant to be, as much as I think it ended up coming out. Chuck and Blair will be locked in a battle of sorts—next chapter, I hope, you will find entertaining—it may or may not have angst, I'm weighting my options. Contrary to my prior assumption that the chapters were going to get shorter, I no longer know. They just kinda take a life of their own.
Thank you for continuing to read and review! I value the time and energy you give, it does not go unnoticed or unappreciated.