The first thing Blair noticed when she woke up was that she wasn't in her own bed. Then she realised she wasn't in a bed at all.
She sat up, sharply, on the sofa – and the blanket that had been covering her slipped off her shoulders. Jesus, she was still in yesterday's clothes.
Yesterday.
She gazed round Chuck's living room, wincing as she noticed the cluster of glasses on the bar – that would explain her headache.
Then she yelped as she realised Chuck was, in fact, sitting in the armchair opposite her. In a dressing gown.
He glanced up from his newspaper.
"Morning, sunshine."
She hastily covered herself with the blanket again (forgetting that she was the one who was fully dressed while Chuck decidedly...wasn't) and sat up even straighter.
"What are you doing here?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You mean, in my suite?"
"No," she snapped. "I mean in the same room as me. While I was asleep." Why did the idea of Chuck seeing her sleep make her feel so...strange? (Because it was creepy, she told herself. Of course. This was Chuck. Who knew what he did to vulnerable girls-)
Chuck sighed and returned to his newspaper. "You're the one who crashed out on the sofa. I was actually trying to get you into the guest room, remember?"
"No."
(Actually, she did remember curling up on some very soft cushions; but she was sure she hadn't had a blanket).
"You asked me to carry you at one point."
"I did not!"
She prayed to God that she hadn't.
He smirked, faintly.
She glared at him. "This is all your fault." Her gaze fell on the glasses again. "Just how many of those lethal concoctions did you make me last night? And what is you obsession with getting girls drunk?"
"Trust me," he said drily, "You managed quite well without my help last night. You were the one saying you wanted to get drunk. And," he glanced at the glasses too, "You were the only one making lethal concoctions." He gave them a nod. "Those are all your attempts at cocktail making. I have to admit," he mused, "You've got quite a flair."
So perhaps she did have a vague memory of taking over his bar last night.
But it was still his fault, she remembered. If he hadn't confused her quite so much in the car with the inviting her back to his suite – if she hadn't seen him wince, in fact, as he'd climbed out of the car – then she wouldn't have suggested the drink in the first place.
She shot him another glower. "Can you at least put some clothes on?"
"I'm hardly naked," Chuck sighed.
He was naked. Under the robe. And why was she even thinking about that? This was why he should be wearing proper clothes. Clothes that wouldn't come off with one tug of a cord, and didn't show her the hair on his chest that made her wonder just how far under the robe it disappeared -
"What's that?"
She suddenly leaned forward, sharp, as she noticed the faint shadows on his exposed chest. Not shadows – bruises. Impossibly faint bruises.
"What?" he frowned.
He was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was staring at his body; he doubted she meant it to be as arousing as it was. Christ.
"I didn't realise they'd hit you that high," she frowned. The bruises looked very small - but she'd heard how hard they'd hit him, and bruising on his chest could mean broken ribs -
Chuck, however, had glanced down at the bruises too; and now his mouth twitched a little. "That wasn't Fabiano's men." Blair's frown deepened and he tilted his head. "That was you."
"What?"
She stared in disbelief. He had to be lying.
"Well...You didn't just fall asleep on the sofa. You fell asleep on my lap."
Blair froze in absolute horror. It hadn't been very soft cushions that she'd curled up on at all. It had been...Chuck's thighs. She distinctly remembered, now, telling herself that she really needed to move before she'd drifted off. (Except she also remembered thinking that the heat of his legs under her cheek was far nicer than any cushion).
"You – took advantage of me," she said furiously.
On his lap.
He rolled his eyes. "That's what you said after you woke up when I tried to move." (He decided not to tell her that he'd had to move because of...where her head had ended up). "Before you started hitting me." He raised an eyebrow at her again; she glanced at the bruises on his chest and tried not to flush. "You were really quite...aggressive. I had no idea you were so-"
"I'm going to take a bath," she cut him right off, outraged, and leapt to her feet. "And you are never going to speak of this again." She gave him a vindictive look. "Or next time I'll hit lower down."
He was still smirking as she stalked away to the bathroom.
By the time Blair emerged from the bathroom, hair washed and skin scrubbed, Chuck was – mercifully – in one of his usual suits. Though she did catch herself wishing that he was wearing a jacket. She realised she'd never actually seen him at home during the day – and not in a shirt and suspenders. Or tilted back in his chair, hair for once not slicked back and the crisp shirt just a little too...thin, against his chest.
She dragged her eyes away, irritated, from the lock of dark hair that had fallen against the pale skin of his forehead. What was wrong with her this morning?
Why was seeing Chuck lounge against the breakfast table putting her all out of sorts?
His golden eyes perused her figure lazily as she took the seat opposite him.
"I'm shocked," he murmured as his gaze grazed her collar bone. There was no high collar there. "That dress is positively...indecent. Is there a reason I'm getting such a treat for breakfast?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Yes, you moron. I didn't leave 'some things' in the guest room – I left one dress. An under dress."
Only Blair, he reflected, would have an under dress that could be mistaken for an actual dress.
Still, he smirked. "So you can take issue with my dressing gown, but it's perfectly acceptable for you to prance around in your underwear?"
He decided he'd really grown quite fond of that glare.
"You disgust me," she informed him as she helped herself to a strawberry. She did not prance. Then she noticed that he was tracking the fruit's progress to her lips and stopped, giving him a deadly look.
He was tempted to tell her that it really didn't make what she was doing any less provocative.
The truth was, he was winding her up deliberately. Like if he could be smarmy enough it would cover up the confused lump in his chest whenever he thought about what she'd done last night.
Like if he teased her enough about her – admittedly hilarious – drunken antics, then he could stop thinking about the sound of her voice in Victrola, her face as she'd gazed up at her penthouse and the warm weight of her head against his legs.
Like if he leered at her enough it would cancel out that moment last night. After she'd fallen asleep for the second time, when he'd covered her with a blanket and had found himself pausing as his hand brushed those dark curls, and it had suddenly been impossible to breathe and he hadn't been able to blame it on his sore abdomen -
"I need you to stop being a pervert long enough to focus on the task at hand," she snapped at him now. "Last night may be a little...hazy, but I do remember what we talked about." Or, the important and non-humiliating parts of what they'd talked about. "You agreed we were going to take down Fabiano."
Chuck paused, and they glanced at each other.
He had agreed. She'd been drunk. He knew Blair never made plans – especially ones for revenge – that she didn't intend to carry through; but still. This was Fabiano.
Not a socialite or a low-life that needed sorting.
If they took him on -
"Did you mean it?" she pressed.
He watched her. He had meant it. But he wasn't sure he wanted her to face a risk that big unless she did too. Unless she was sure she did.
"Did you?"
His shirt was white and she could just make out the darker shading of his skin on his torso; and despite his nonchalant position on the chair, she caught his faint intake of breath every time he shifted.
And she could still picture his expression every time he looked at Victrola.
Her gaze slanted. "I meant it."
He tried to ignore the way his heart raced at that light in her eyes (at the fact that she was on his side). He smirked instead. Hard.
"Then let's get the bastard."
"So it's not just me being crazy?"
Two blond heads were bent together, completely ignoring the auction going on at the podium ahead of them. Neither were all that enthusiastic about antique art; they'd been more tempted by the stupendous banquet afterwards. Sadly, the auction part seemed to be going on forever.
"No," Serena whispered back. "She really is...different, lately."
They were both watching the brunette two rows ahead.
"But good different," Nate added. "I don't know. I mean she's...lighter. Happier."
Blair was smiling at the moment, eyes narrowed and face animated with competition as she waved her paddle. Events like this always did get her blood going.
"She's glowing," Serena smiled fondly. And she had a feeling she knew why. Blair was always excited by competition. She was usually far too competitive to spend time smirking at the person next to her. Serena knew from personal experience – you did not distract Blair at something like an auction. But apparently that rule didn't extend to the dark-haired man who currently had her hand in his. "They're so sweet," Serena sighed.
Georgina, listening from the row behind, rolled her eyes in disgust. But she was also watching Chuck and Blair between narrowed eyes.
Glowing.
Ugh.
Blair's hand was currently inching up the inside seam of Chuck's trousers.
"Give it up," Chuck muttered back, struggling to focus. "You're not going to win this one."
Blair smiled and raised her paddle again. Her fingers brushed the highest part of Chuck's thigh – and just as they reached the bulge, his own hand clamped down on hers.
"Don't you dare." He grit his teeth as her smile widened.
She leaned her head into his, lips brushing his ear while her eyes never left the figure on the podium.
She was going to win this one.
"Chuck," she purred as her hair tickled his cheek and its scent assaulted his senses. "I really didn't think you'd be complaining about something like this."
"Is that five hundred thousand?"
Chuck just about managed to raise his paddle with Blair's. Of course, neither of them could afford to be splashing out half a million on a painting.
But the game was chicken.
Serena had dragged Blair to the auction (you and Chuck are always busy nowadays; we never go out!) and, since they knew they couldn't actually outbid anyone in the room, they'd needed something to keep them entertained.
"Can I get fifty five thousand dollars?"
Blair had already spotted the old dear at the back who was clearly desperate for the painting – she wasn't worried. The trick now was to stop Chuck noticing the same woman.
He went to turn his head, slightly; and Blair squeezed.
Next moment a string of curse words were being hissed into her ear.
She grinned.
"Sixty thousand dollars?"
The auction had not been as enjoyable for everyone.
"Finally," Georgie groaned as she dragged Blair into the cloakroom. Finally – she'd got her away from Chuck. The man was impossible to shake. "Jesus. I was about ready to die of boredom. Next time, please don't leave me to chaperone blonde and blonder."
Blair rolled her eyes.
(But Georgie had noticed the faint flush in her cheeks and the light in her eye. Glowing).
"Can you explain to me now what all that stuff with Fabiano was?"
Blair raised an eyebrow at her; Georgina gave the other girl an impatient nudge.
"Come on. All that stuff about selling Chuck out? When you practically attacked me?" Her expression lit up a little. "I mean, is he in trouble now?"
"No," Blair said. Her eyes had a gleam to them as she smiled, grimly. "But Fabiano will be soon."
(Damnit. Chuck Bass was like a cockroach). Georgie frowned."What are you talking about?" Oh - no. She recognised that gleam. "No. Do not tell me Chuck is making you go along with some crazy vendetta against Fabiano."
Usually, Georgie was all for vendettas – but not when they consisted of Chuck and Blair. On the same side.
"He's not making me do anything," Blair retorted easily. "Fabiano needs to be destroyed."
Georgina couldn't believe it had all backfired on her quite so spectacularly. This wasn't supposed to be happening. "Chuck is the one with a problem with Fabiano," she said between ground teeth. "His problem – not yours."
Chuck and Blair, on the same side.
"Fabiano made it my problem the second he decided to threaten me," Blair corrected her.
(Even though that wasn't why she'd showed up with the money and it didn't quite explain the feeling she'd got when she'd seen Chuck almost on the floor).
Georgie had gone even stiller. "He...what?" Blair glanced at her; she gave herself a little shake and realised it was probably best to change the subject. Fast. "There's something I don't understand, B." Her tone was suddenly cool. "What happened to destroying Chuck? Because I'd say all the giggling and hand-holding are sort of sending the opposite message."
Blair's smile disappeared, just like that.
"Drop it."
Georgie's lip twisted. "Drop it. That's all you ever do, Blair. Serena steals your fiance – but it's ok, we'll drop it because her brother died. Chuck humiliates you and tricks you into marrying him – but it's ok, we'll drop it because now you want to sleep with him." She stared at the other girl. "When did you become so pathetic?"
The flush had gone now too. Blair was white, her lips pinched.
"Look," Georgie sighed. "I'm sorry. That was harsh. But sometimes I feel like I don't understand you any more." She shook her head. "You're Blair Waldorf. You never used to let anyone walk all over you-"
"No one's walking all over me," Blair spat.
"So playing Chuck's happy little wife, helping him with all his schemes? What's that?"
Blair was suddenly very, very cold. "None of your business, Georgie."
She was turning away now. Shit. Georgina had gone too far. She repressed a snarl of irritation - fucking Chuck Bass.
"Wait," Georgie sighed. "B. Look, I just want to understand." It was a real struggle to get the next words out, but she knew they needed to be said. "Do you care about him now? Is that what it is? Have you fallen for him?"
She wasn't sure what would be worse – if Blair said she did, or if she denied it. Because if she'd reached denial then she was in way, way over her head.
"No," Blair said vehemently. Far too quickly. "Of course not."
Great. She was screwed.
Georgie tried a smile. "Ok. I just wanted to check. Because Chuck is bad news, remember? Him and Carter-"
"He's nothing like Carter."
Georgie stared at her in silence. That had always been her one fall-back; linking Carter and Chuck together. If Blair wasn't even doing that now -
"And why is that?" she asked very softly.
The other's girls lips tightened. "He's just not."
Georgie watched her a moment longer. "Do you really know that, B? Do you even really know him?"
"I know him."
There was a quiet calm in Blair's eyes.
Fine.
Georgie didn't want to say what she said next. "Ok," she breathed. She had to get Blair to see. "But does he really know you?" Her blue eyes were unforgiving. "Does he know everything about you, Blair?"
Blair was silent.
"I just don't want you to get your heart broken. I'll always look out for you – you know that." Her voice was gentle. "The best way to stop him hurting you is to hurt him first. You know that."
There was suddenly an icy light in Blair's eyes. "If you do anything to hurt him, Georgie, I will destroy you."
Georgina held up her hands. "Look, I won't. Ok? If you don't want me to-"
"I don't."
"Ok," Georgie murmured. "Jeez, B. No need to go all psycho on me. I won't."
Blair stared at her for a moment longer. "Good."
Georgie watched her leave. She needed a plan. And she needed a brilliant one.
They said bad things came in threes.
So with any luck, Carter thought with a groan, this was the last time he'd see Georgina Sparks in his club. She smiled at him as she dropped into the bar stool at his side.
"Let me save you some time," Carter sighed. "They're married, and there's nothing anyone can do about it."
Georgie rolled her eyes. Carter had already flagged down a drink for her, lest she had any ideas about stealing his. She stole his anyway. "I'm not here about that." She moved onto the drink he'd ordered for her. "I'm here to propose a deal, actually."
"Why," Carter drawled, "Should I even pretend to be interested?"
She smirked at him and sucked the cherry from her drink, slipping it between red lips. "Because it's to do with Fabiano."
Well, that got his attention. Carter's eyes narrowed instantly. "I don't even want to know how you know about him."
"Good." Georgie set her glass down on the bar. "Because I probably know more than you do." She waved for another drink as she reapplied her lipstick, tilting her head at Carter.
"Like what?" He made no attempt to hide his sneer.
"Like Chuck and Blair are trying to take him down."
Carter did pause, at that. He'd suspected as much. He still didn't know exactly what had happened that night Chuck went missing. But the other mand had turned up in Gimlet the next day to tell him Fabiano had come back early and he'd been paid. But Chuck was a fool if he thought Carter hadn't noticed that he'd obviously taken a beating – even if he'd managed to hide it from everyone else – and that he was now up to something.
Carter bet its reasoning had something to do with Blair.
"Well," he snorted. "That's their suicide mission."
(Great. Now he'd have to waste more time trying to talk Chuck out of this).
"Yours too," Georgina pointed out idly. "If Fabiano finds out, you can kiss your little business goodbye."
Carter scowled at her.
"I'm surprised, actually," she mused. "That you don't want revenge on the guy yourself. Seeing as he's the one Chuck double-crossed you with. Well...maybe not that surprised. You always were spineless."
Carter just snorted, unaffected. "And you're insane. Which is why you'll go too far and end up with a bullet in your head. Sooner rather than later, I hope."
Georgie smiled as she raised the next glass to her lips. "You say the sweetest things, Baizen."
"Can you leave now?"
"No," she said pleasantly. "Not till you agree to help me."
Carter let out a sigh. "My doormen are getting very bored of throwing you out, Sparks."
"Chuck and Blair can't take Fabiano down by themselves. They need our help."
The man looked at her like she was crazy. "The best thing we can do to help is to stop this before it goes any further."
"Have fun trying," Georgie shot back, dry. "You know how easily they let things go." About as easily as she did. As Carter did.
"Why?" Baizen groaned. "Why do you always try to ruin my nights? Don't you have a life of your own?"
She grinned nastily at him. "Don't worry, precious. As soon as you help me with this, I'll let you get back to lonely booze-filled nights wishing Chuck wasn't at home with his wife."
"Careful," Carter warned as he spared her drink a contemptuous glance. "That's your fourth in as many minutes. Better get the mints ready for your pathetic little date tonight."
Georgie was quite serene. "I cleared my schedule, actually. Just for you. So I'm not going anywhere till you get that brain in action and figure out this is the best plan for all of us."
Carter finally looked at her. "What exactly is in this for you?"
"It's revenge." Georgie's eyes hardened suddenly. "What's not to love?"
Carter regarded her from the side. Ah. So that was it. "Fabiano tried to do something to Blair." That explained why Chuck wanted revenge so much.
Despite what he'd told Georgie, Carter had harboured a soft hatred for Fabiano for a long time now. Not just because Chuck had gone to him behind his back – but because the man was too big for his boots. Carter didn't like being threatened. Carter didn't like his business or his best friend being threatened either.
"Are you in?" Georgie pressed. "Or not?"
Carter pursed his lips.
"I suppose taking him down could be...satisfying."
She smirked. "Excellent. We'll meet tomorrow." She downed the last drop from her glass before sliding off the bar stool; and then Carter suddenly caught her arm.
It was a casual grip.
"And Sparks? If I catch even the faintest whiff of betrayal from you – you're going to wish you'd never been born."
Georgina just smiled, coldly, and slipped free.
"Terrified. I'm sure."
Blair had a nightmare that night.
She dreamt that she was trying to get to Victrola again. Chuck was there, and she had to get to him to stop whatever was about to happen. She knew that if she didn't, those punches would start again.
But it was raining and she couldn't find her way, and every time she tried to call out his name thunder drowned her out. Her old fear of thunderstorms, back to haunt her.
And somehow she was simultaneously trying to find him and watching him, in the room, getting beaten up. The only sound she could hear over the thunder was his noises of pain.
When she finally grabbed one of the attackers to try and stop them, she was met with a pair of blue eyes.
"But this is what you wanted, Blair. This is what you always wanted."
And the last thing she saw before she woke up shaking, heart pounding like crazy, was Chuck's lifeless face, contorted in pain; his blood on the floor mixing with the rain, and the knowledge that it was all her fault.
Chuck had just got into bed and switched off the light when he thought he heard a knock at the door.
This was exactly why he'd been staying up so late recently. Because otherwise he just lay in bed and thought about the room just down the hall from his – and Jesus, now he was so desperate that he was hearing things.
"Chuck?"
But the handle was turning now. And this wasn't a dream this time.
Blair was standing at his doorway.
Her hair was loose, her feet bare; she was wearing a little white slip and in other words was everything he'd spent the past several nights fantasizing about.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
And now she was moving, cautiously, towards his bed. He sat up before she could come any closer. (Otherwise he'd have known he really was dreaming).
"What is it?"
She paused.
And he realised then that there was an odd expression on her face.
"I...nothing." She'd stopped approaching his bed. "I just had an idea, and I saw your light was on..."
An idea?
Under any other circumstances, a girl having an idea at night, in bed, and then coming into his room -
But he could still see that look in her eyes. Something was wrong.
(Definitely not a sexy idea).
"About what?"
"Nothing important." She hesitated and he knew then that she was about to lie. "Just...Fabiano. I thought if you were awake we could do some more plotting. But it's fine." She shook her head. "It can wait till morning."
She was already turning to go.
"Blair."
He studied her.
"What was the idea?"
She was still standing there in her slip and it was driving him crazy all of a sudden.
"You know, I don't bite-"
"Please don't say unless you want me to. I don't want more nightmares."
His mouth quirked, faintly (though he'd noticed the more nightmares); he rolled his eyes and nodded at the bed.
"I'll even stay on my side."
She glanced at the vast expanse of mattress. And then, slowly, she lowered herself onto the edge of it.
He tried to ignore her slender white legs as she curled them under her – she saw him look anyway, and narrowed her eyes. But for once she didn't say anything.
"So what were you thinking about Fabiano?"
"Just the champagne idea." She sighed. "Delivering crates to Victrola in broad daylight. It's amateur."
She was a good liar. He'd give her that. Still, he thought about it before he nodded. "I guess it is."
"And the underage girls," she added. "That won't work either."
"It's a little hard to prove," he reflected in agreement. Reluctantly, though – that one would have been fun. "And now that I think about it, the narcotics could blow up in our faces too."
She gave a little nod.
"So I guess we need to think harder," he murmured. It was ridiculous that she was on the other side of the bed and he could feel the mattress dip where she sat.
Blair was silent for a moment.
"What if...we can't think of anything?"
Chuck frowned. "Well, we knew it wasn't going to be easy. We just need to keep trying." He glanced at her. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet?" he teased lightly.
Her feet were currently tucked under her bare legs. For God's sake.
Then he realised she hadn't answered him.
"What?" He cocked his head at her, searching her eyes. "Do you not want to do this any more?"
"I do," she muttered. "I mean, I want revenge. It's just," her voice faltered for a second. "It's dangerous."
He watched her in silence.
"It is," he said at last. "Blair. I don't...want you to put yourself at risk. If you don't want to." Because if anything happened to her - "I understand," he murmured, softly.
No, he didn't.
He didn't have nightmares about his screams of pain and blood on the floor. He hadn't seen the look on his face when -
"I mean it's dangerous for you." The words came out fast.
Chuck stared at her for a moment, brow furrowed like he didn't quite understand.
"I think we should stop," she said, very quiet. "Both of us."
He was still staring. "Just give up?"
Drop it.
When did you become so pathetic?
Was it the nightmare she'd had, he wondered? Was that why she looked so pale now?
"Blair?"
She wasn't looking at him; and he couldn't take it any more. He suddenly leaned forwards and caught her chin, tilting her face up to his. She was perfectly still in the dim light of his room.
"Whatever your nightmare was...it's not real." He gazed down into her eyes as his thumb grazed the soft skin of her jaw. "It's not real," he muttered.
She shook her head.
And then her hand was on his chest; suddenly slipping down to the hard plane of his stomach through his silk pyjamas – and, as she'd known he would, he flinched. Just for a second.
"What?" Her hand slipped against the gap in his pyjama top, and then her fingers were brushing his hot bruised skin. "Like this isn't real?"
He caught her wrist, and her fingers curled.
The bruises didn't make her want vengeance now. They just made her afraid.
"Please." Her voice nearly broke. "Please can we stop?"
He looked down at the fear in her eyes – it was her nightmare, he knew, that was making her so irrational.
"Ok," he said at last. "We'll stop."
They were having breakfast when the elevator pinged.
And the two people that walked in might not have been that unusual by themselves – but together, they were enough to make both Chuck and Blair stare in disbelief.
Neither Carter nor Georgie bothered with pleasantries.
They dropped straight down into the other two seats at the table, and Carter helped himself to a croissant while Georgie grabbed the tea.
"Right," Georgie announced. "You can stop floundering around now. We're going to help."
Chuck and Blair exchanged a glance. We? As in – Georgie and Carter? They were a we now?
"We know about your little plan for Fabiano," Carter sighed. "So...we're in. And you're welcome." He didn't miss that both of them had gone very still. Georgie's eyes narrowed, a little.
"We're not going against Fabiano."
"Ok," Carter said, impatiently. "Let's not waste time denying. I told you we know. And we're going to help you destroy him."
"No," Chuck snapped. "We're not doing it any more." He was very aware of Blair at his side.
This time it was Carter and Georgie's turn to exchange a glance.
"Sorry...what?"
"You're just going to let him get away with what he did?" Carter demanded. "Are you serious?"
"It's too dangerous."
Georgie scoffed. "The only person it's going to be dangerous for is Fabiano."
And for once, Carter agreed with her. "Against us? He doesn't stand a chance." He reached for another croissant. "Anyway, this isn't up for discussion. We're going to annihilate him."
Georgie sipped her tea. "With or without your help."
A/N – So...this chapter really was meant to be a light one. It started out that way, promise! The angst just sort of crept in? But I'm not going to lie, I love the idea of a C/G/C/B alliance. It's not quite the NJBC but I still think the show should go there. I know, they never will. They don't even have Carter/Georgina interaction - and Georgie's pretty ridiculous now anyway. (I'll try not to be too negative and say her OTT antics, convoluted plot lines and two-dimensional appearance are like a metaphor for the show in general now). Anyway. I hope you enjoyed the chapter – thanks so much for continuing to review :)