Fumbling Towards Happily Ever After
Chapter Twenty – Part Three
Damien was lounging idly on an iron bench outside the arrivals terminal, all three sets of suitcases at his feet, cigarette burned to nothing by the time Serena and Eric finally emerged from customs. He was smiling too, a kind of smug smile that suited the way his hands reclined the full length of the seat and his feet splayed out to its sides. "Fuck it's good to be home!" Damien yelled at his guests as he jumped up and onto seat. At least two elderly passengers were startled, stared on in disgust. "Move along," He sneered right back. Damien stepped from the seat to the back of the bench, before jumping straight over. Serena and Eric exchanged a look of their own. Damien laid out his hands flat, indicated the city that swelled beyond the terminal. "Smell that polluted air," He mocked happily.
"Shall we call a taxi?" Eric suggested sensibly.
"No need," Damien retrieved the keys from his pocket and gave them a little jingle. "Le automobile awaits."
"I didn't think you knew how to drive," Serena said.
"Just because I didn't want to drive on the wrong side?" Damien teased as faced the pavement, turned back briefly to smile again. "We'll be at my grandfather's within an hour," He promised. "Well maybe two because we have to stop at Borough Market first. I need a really good scone" Damien turned again, eyebrow turning thoughtful. "And a real cup of tea, not that half-fat, no-fat, wish-I-could-have-just-a-bit-of-fat flavoured water!" He finished before setting off.
Serena and Eric chased the local through the line of taxicabs, searched through half of the first parkade before Damien realized he had no idea where they were going. He flipped his phone open and dialled. "Bradley!" Damien yelled into it. "Where the hell is my car?" When he got his answer he stopped, battle between scowl and smile playing out across his face. "You're a prat!" Damien shut the phone and grabbed Serena's bag for her. He was going to need to carry it. His brother had parked his car in the back corner of the back lot of one of the largest airports in the world.
Even once they reached the correct lot, it took the three nearly half an hour to find the car, visual searching given up in favour of beeping the automatic locks. Bradley had hidden it well, tucked the sports car between a delivery van and some falling apart Honda truck. The sparkling clean, fire engine red Porsche hardly fit its company. Eric and Serena just sort of stared while Damien tossed their bags into the trunk. Serena's first instinct had been to whistle. It's not that she hadn't been in cars like that her entire life. It's just that she was surprised Damien owned one. The boy was full of surprises. Her second instinct was to fight her brother for the front seat. The back was always three inches too small for her legs. "Oh no," Damien cross his arms against the roof and shook his head at the only girl. "Chuck told me you prefer to ride in the back!"
Eric stood away, couldn't help the sneer from spreading to his sister. She slapped him on the back of his head as she moved to sit behind. Damien fired the engine, classical music immediately filling the small space. Damien arched a brow and slapped eject. The CD had a simple message scrawled across the front: Didn't think so! Damien smirked before he threw it towards the back. It bounced off the seat and landed at Serena's feet. He opened the glove compartment and searched for his usual stack. They were all replaced by another blank case, this one with the words Try this sketched on the case. Damien flipped it in and within moments the more suitable guitar riff to Pull Me In split the air. It reminded Serena of another road trip, nearly five months before.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
By the time Chuck drew the sixth zero on his cheque, he decided the number wasn't as intriguing as he remembered. In fact, he was nearly ready to relegate his favourite to downright overrated. He signed his cheque with a flourish he couldn't feel, tried not to be nervous, to put his faith in Uncle Jack as he had the moment they started their little business ventures. Still Chuck had his doubts. He should never have signed on for a project that big, in an economic climate that uncertain. Mostly he should have trusted his instincts because this was neither an oversight nor a problem: oversights started at five digits, problems at six. Seven digits? They were reserved for massive screw ups! The realizations nearly stopped him from sealing the envelope. He did it anyway, handed it to his servant before he could question again, sat back, waited until the man had left to cover his eyes. He couldn't have done it before. He was the son of Bart Bass after all. He didn't uncover them until he heard the footsteps, then he peeked out to see who had caught him in his weakness. It was Nate and based on the other boy's irate posturing, it wouldn't have made a difference if Chuck was crying outright.
"Yale!" Nate yelled and Chuck understood. His eyes flickered to the side and the blonde capitalized on it. "Of all the schools in the country, why would you pick to go to Yale?"
Chuck swallowed hard. He wasn't entirely sure if he could put it to words. There were different competing reasons, ones he had tried to vanquish but lingered on, and others that were too sensitive to be put to words. "They offered me a placement," Chuck put the most neutral first.
"So accept another school," Nate countered. "Your father has enough money to buy your way into any school you want."
"I want to go to Yale," Chuck firmed his jaw.
"Why do you want it?"
"It has an excellent business program."
"So do any of the Ivy League schools!"
"I prefer Yale." Chuck tried to explain calmly. "When I was in rehab..."
"You think I care about that?" Nate snapped. "You think I'm buying that this has nothing to do with Blair. That of all the Ivy League schools you just happened to accept admission to the school she's attending." Chuck squared his shoulders. He couldn't deny that was his original motive, back when he'd dreamed of their future in unison. "This is textbook Chuck Bass," Nate raised his voice further. "Pretend you don't want something, scheme behind everyone's back to get it anyway. What are you planning to do? Wait a couple years, until she nearly forgets all the shitty things you've done to her, and then swoop in and mess with her again."
"It's not like that," Chuck finally spoke, was emphatic enough to promise. "I meant what I said to you already. Blair and I are done."
"How come I don't believe you?" Nate asked. "In fact, what else have you been doing? How else have you been interfering?"
"God dammit Nate!" Chuck yelled and then pulled back; words dark but delivery controlled. "I can't make her want you!"
"It's your fault that she doesn't."
Chuck shook his head in disbelief. "I'm not the one who fucked Serena!"
"Are you actually going to go there?"
"Maybe you shouldn't have!"
"You don't think I regret that?"
"Do you really?" Chuck asked and there was something in the delivery, the total conviction that brought a realization.
"You don't even want Blair and I together."
The turn of his head away from his best friend explained enough, words cementing the sentiment. "She could do better."
"Some friend you are!" Nate shouted back. "You should be supporting me, happy to see two of your friends together. Instead of plotting behind my back! If you were truly my friend then you'd go to West Point Academy like your father always wanted you to."
That cracked Chuck's determined indifference; caused the antagonism to match the level of his voice. "I'm not planning my future based on your romantic flights of fancy!" He barked as he stood. "Get out of my house!" Chuck waited with clenched jaw for the blonde to execute his command. Nate didn't even hesitate; he marched out with matching fury.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Blair's face was there when Chuck closed his locker. He knew it would be, he'd heard her heels, recognized the perfectly coordinated sequence from the moment they entered the Boy's hall. He didn't dare to look but now he couldn't look away. He saw what Eric had sworn, there was no mask to hide behind, just a kind of gnawing hurt. It made him play with his lock, reopen the metal box. "Why are you going to Yale?" There was no firmness to the question, no bitchy undertone to hide behind.
Chuck stared at the collection of crumpled papers on the top shelf of his locker, pulled a couple down and smoothed them against the metal door. "They offered me admission," Chuck tried as he had with Nate.
"Why did you take it?"
Chuck tossed the papers back up and turned. "Did I ever tell you where Clayton House was?" Blair denied it with a nod. "It's perched on the top of a rolling hill in Connecticut," Chuck explained, "It has these amazing pines trees and decorative gardens that wind through every inch. They were the only barrier between it and Yale university below. So maybe," He looked just briefly away. "I fell in love with it too."
Blair felt the smile form but it didn't spread entirely full. It couldn't be all encompassing because that was the moment Blair knew. If Chuck could go to Yale and still have it be about anything but her then it must never have been about her at all. "I..." Blair took the deepest breath she could but she didn't have anything left to say.
Chuck stared at his shoes a long while before he decided what to say next. "But if you don't want me to go there," He looked up, met her eyes. "Then just say so and I won't."
Blair stared back at him, tried one last time to read his thoughts or intent. They never came through anymore. "It's a big university," she offered as she walked away.
Nate finally found his understanding as he watched the changes in his friend. He'd been following the brunette all day, waiting for that conversation to come. And now that it had, he had confirmation of everything he'd already known. He watched every change in his best friend's demeanour, the way his shoulders fell forward and his eyes followed Blair as she walked away. It could have made him sympathetic but Nate didn't like complications.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
The rolling hills of England's southern coast sped by as pavement turned to gravel beneath Damien's wheels. The countryside passed in a blur as he shifted lanes and clung to corners he'd memorized as a child years ago. Eric adored every moment, the building scent of salt air as the party of three drew closer to their destination, the forests of thin trees and wildflowers. He even loved the manor house as it rose, five times larger than either Van der Woodsen expected. Serena leaned forward and whispered into her brother's ear. "Blair would love this!" Eric laughed because it was true.
"Don't worry," Damien teased as his passengers ogled his grandfather's house. "We're considered the poorer relations."
They were about a mile out when Damien detoured to a gravel road away from the house. "What are you doing?" Serena asked.
"A little payback," Damien smirked into the rear view.
They were about a half mile down the road before Serena heard the first shot. "They're shooting at us," She screamed and put her head down.
Damien and Eric both cracked up at her distress. "My brother Bradley is gearing up for the grouse season. They're shooting at clay disks," He assured the oldest Van der Woodsen. Damien slowed their car by the loudest cracks, counted down the twenty seconds his brother always hesitated between shots and then leaned on his horn with all his might one second before the following shot rang.
It took only a couple minutes before the first brother emerged from behind the row of bushes. He was as tall as Damien with a frame that filled out the dark black pants and white turtleneck fully. Another appeared behind, the family resemblance striking. "You made me miss you know," The second and younger of the brothers yelled at the car.
"That was kind of the point," Damien promised as he stepped out. Eric and his sister followed. Bradley's eyes followed the new arrivals, surprise not even masked. Damien made the introductions and Eric put his hand out as expected.
"You're Eric Van der Woodsen?" Bradley asked in bemusement, stared at his grey dress slacks and yellow polo, at the freshly washed face and naturally styled hair.
"The last time I checked."
"Sorry," He reanimated. "You're just different from what I expected."
Eric accepted it, hoped that the difference was a positive one.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Chuck slammed the cover of his journal shut, put two fingers to the corner and sent it spinning across the table and onto the floor. It landed at the feet of Lewis. "Tough day?" She guessed.
Chuck took a deep breath and looked away. "You could say that."
"Anything I could help with?" Chuck shook his head. It wasn't her business. "Okay," Lewis shrugged her shoulders, picked up the journal and dropped it back to the table.
He let her walk nearly to the door before the admittance came. "I yelled at my best friend," Once again hurt the girl I love. Am 12 million dollars further into a project that is spontaneously combusting. He bit back the other two. One thing at a time.
"Did he deserve it?" Lewis asked. Chuck stared at her, tried to gauge whether she was being sarcastic or not. Sometimes it was hard to figure it out.
"Yes."
"Then all's good," Lewis explained and this time he knew she was joking.
"We've been friends since we were born."
"Sometimes we outgrow things," Lewis admitted. "And if we haven't, then they'll be back. Maybe you just need to redefine things. After all, you've changed a lot."
Chuck furrowed his brow in thought. She had a definite point. "Thanks," He said. "For the advice. I really appreciate having you here."
"Anytime Chuck."
Chuck smirked at that, he put a hand to his lips and smiled. "I just noticed something. You've started calling me Chuck!"
"Good night," The older woman rolled her eyes and left.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
By the time she spotted the curls Vanessa was beginning to wonder how her tiny cafe had become a regular with the Upper East Side crowd. The Soho Stop might have the best coffee in New York but neither of her rich guests had finished a single cup and based on the determined crack of Blair's heels this visit would be no different. Her black and white floral print skirt floated as she walked to the counter, snapped as she pulled herself to a familiar stool. She ran her manicured nails against the counter exactly twice and then snapped, "Can I get some service here?"
Vanessa eyed the rest of her customers in resignation; there were only four. She usually liked the Thursday evening shift precisely because it was slow. Now she wished it was half-full. "Would you like a menu?" Vanessa offered up a slip of plastic.
"You mean you serve things beyond coffee and," Blair eyed the central glass tray with disgust "day old muffins?"
Vanessa nearly pointed out that she baked those raspberry and white chocolate muffins herself, less than an hour ago. She didn't. What would be the point? She crossed her arms instead.
"Coffee," Blair arched her brow in bemusement as her server said nothing. "Black," She finished before Vanessa could ask.
It was fetched dutifully, placed before Blair without comment. Vanessa tried to make her escape after but Blair didn't even allow her a step. "You think I really came for the coffee?"
When did they ever? Vanessa recrossed her arms and turned back. "I'm not going to talk about Chuck with you."
"I'm not expecting you to talk at all," Blair countered. "You just need to listen." She took a slow sip of her coffee then, lingered a full moment to allow Vanessa escape. The Bohemian didn't take it. "I just hope you know what you're getting yourself in for," Blair stared her straight in the eye. "Chuck is difficult."
"I know that."
"Do you really. Do you actually understand how difficult it is to be with him? You have to meander between his screwed up past, the mommy and daddy issues, figure a way around his masochistic tendencies and alcoholism, all the while knowing, that if you push the wrong way or too hard, he might just kill himself for it." Blair could see Vanessa's eyes round with each piece. She was fully terrified by the end. It didn't make Blair happy to see it. It almost made her sad. Despite the force of history predicting it, Blair's intent had never been to scare the other girl away, but to relate a history that could become essential. "Trying to coexist with Chuck Bass is a constant struggle between equal and sometimes opposite fears and issues." Blair could feel her doe eyes turn to glass as she finished. "Trying to be with Chuck is very nearly impossible," She promised.
Blair didn't wait for any reply to her thoughts, she was too afraid she'd cry if she lingered. So she grabbed her purse back, threw a couple bills on the stained countertop and left. She had her phone out before she was halfway down the street, waiting through the international beeps. "S!" She called out as it connected. "How's the weather over there?"
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Chuck was reclined against a metal pole when he heard it, the insistent "Duck!" followed by the racing patter of tiny feet. They barely were distinguishable against the dozen other that ran in sequence to the largest slide, the childish cries and screams that echoed from the playground behind him. The other kids didn't have those same green eyes, bouncing brown curls or stunning mother chasing behind. So Chuck butted his cigarette before the wobbling two year old feet could catch him. He rose only one eyebrow when Aidan did catch him, it spiked higher when the little boy's two arms encircled his leg and held on for dear life.
Lewis was more embarrassed by the display. Her cheeks were carved out in a dusting of pink as she tried to persuade her son to let go. Aidan eventually did but only to try to grab at the older boy's hand. "Sing, sing!" Aidan insisted with a finger at the metal swing set to the side.
"Aidan. I'm sure Chuck is too busy push you on the swing."
Chuck took a look to the left and right: both sides were still empty. He took a look at his casual shirt and pants: suitable for roughhousing. Why would Lewis think he was busy? Okay, so maybe he didn't usually jump at the opportunity to play with droolers but that was before the play involved swings. Chuck had a natural affinity for soaring high. So he held his palm flat and let the toddler grab hard. "A few minutes won't hurt," Chuck decided.
The only one it hurt was Lewis and she wasn't really hurt, just scared to the point of insensibility. She bit her tongue after the seven admonishment to be careful, listened to her son's enthusiastic giggles and tried to reconcile the height that had garnered them. Chuck had tried to sit the two year old in a regular swing first. That was easily changed to an infant strip of leather. Lewis couldn't as easily convince Chuck to not push him so high. Chuck had started out at the top, pushed Aidan high enough so that he could race underneath, set the toddler halfway to the sky before running underneath again. He pushed him until the tiny swing jumped at the top, until his smile matched the child's and one chuckle of laughter betrayed his own enjoyment.
"Trying to initiate another daredevil?" Nate called and Chuck stepped out of the way of the returning feet, smile disappearing as the little boy soared upward again. Chuck pulled him to a stop without comment. "I called to apologize," Nate explained as the toddler started to cry. He wasn't happy to see his fun end. Lewis pulled Aidan out of the leather and into her arms. Chuck ignored his best friend, put his hands out for the smaller boy instead.
If Nate had issues with being passed over for a sixteen year old Eric, then he had a whole new level of issue with being passed over for a screaming two year old. Chuck whispered a series of words into the toddler's ear and Aidan started to quiet down. When he was suitably calm Chuck returned him to his mother. Aidan didn't get away before depositing a wet kiss on the older boys cheek. Chuck grimaced as it came, wiped it away the moment the little boy's back was turned.
"How did you get him to be quiet?" Nate asked once Aidan disappeared, mother and stroller in tow.
"I told him I'd buy him Cranky Crane if he shut up," Chuck admitted as he walked the other way away from the playground.
Nate followed behind. "Thanks for meeting me."
Chuck made an impartial noise that sounded almost like "hmmm."
"I wanted to apologize. I was totally out of line yesterday." Chuck stopped walking at that, turned around to face the blonde in interest. "I can't believe I asked you to change universities just because I was jealous," Nate shook his head. "You had every right to throw me out. And you have every right to doubt me. Blair too! I didn't treat her well before. I was insincere and fanciful," Nate called back the other boy's words. "It shows how good a friend you are to be worried about her."
Chuck turned back towards the playground. He watched the teams of running children that ten years ago could have been him and Nate.
"I know you just want what's best for her but I also know, in the long run, you'll see that what's best is me." Nate insisted and waited for the other boy to reply. Chuck didn't make one. "What do you think?" Nate put out at last.
Chuck looked from his best friend to the playground, the laughing children, and then back again. He caught the empty swings and decided "I think we should race to the top," He decided abruptly.
Nate eyed the swings as well. "We're eighteen," He reminded Chuck.
Chuck just arched a brow to match Nate's disbelieving one. It only took a second and no words for the decision. The two older boys raced across the park, feet kicking up blades of grass as they ran. They threw their larger bodies onto the strips of leather in equal time, pushing into the dirt below the set, kicking off as hard as they could before jumping into place. Nate and Chuck soared upward with matching pushes and pulls, cresting remarkably close.
Despite the historical record, Nate was the first to feel the drag of the top, that moment you defy gravity and soar unmanaged until a chain pulls you back down to the earth. For once Nate was the one to cry out in victory and Chuck was left to curse in consolation.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
The Allenby brothers were already arranged in a perfect line when Eric reached them. They stood on the croquet field, a steady progression of dark hair, wide noses and green eyes. They were all cut from the same fabric with one notable exception. The rest of the Allenby boys were dressed in neutrals, white sweaters and tan pants that blended into the green lawn. It could have been a scene from a traveller's brochure except for Damien's tight black and white chequered t-shirt and olive combat shorts. When Eric turned to his sister he realized that Serena saw it too.
"Eric!" Damien nearly sprinted across the field, offered up his stick enthusiastically, urged his boyfriend to take his place. "What are you wearing?"
Eric looked at his clothing; white polo and tan shorts that fit with the rest. "You don't like?"
"My parents will. If you're not careful," Damien teased. "They'll adopt you and send me back to New York."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Bart was seated at the long desk when Lewis entered, flipping through sheets in a yellow folder and adding notes to a green one. "We need to talk," She interrupted.
"Can it wait?" Bart asked. "I need to complete my briefing sheets before I fly out tonight."
"No," Lewis decided. "It can't." Bart arched one brow but pushed his papers aside regardless. "I know I promised you another two weeks but I would feel much better moving out now."
"What?" Bart arched his brow higher. "No, you should stay."
"I don't think that..."
"Your son adores it here."
"I know that. He adores it a little too much. He's becoming very attached to Chuck."
"That's a good thing," Bart insisted.
Lewis furrowed her brow at Bart's total flippancy. It's not as if they were talking about Aidan forming an attachment to a new stuffed toy. You couldn't pack up Bart's grown son once it was time to head back West. "And Chuck is growing quite fond of him."
"Also good."
"And me." Lewis gave her head a shake. "Your son is getting quite attached to me being here."
"Even better," Bart made a notation on his spreadsheet. "He needs a good female role model after the debacle with Lily." Lewis nearly choked. Those might have been the least reassuring words she could have heard. A chime from Bart's blackberry proved he was due to leave. He started packing up his paperwork. "I have to go but you don't need to. Don't leave, not now or in two weeks or ever. I like having you here," He said stoically. "You're good for my family."
The oddest thing is he tried to kiss her on the way out, despite barely speaking since sleeping together and following the strangest worded declaration of she wasn't sure what, he went right for her lips. Was it any surprise that she bent immediately away, or that she was left shaking her head as he left anyway? At least she had another three days to figure out what the hell he had said.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Blair could almost taste the salt air in her mouth. The sun beat down on her wide brimmed hat, coating her cream complexion with a sheen she'd later play off as a glow. The beams cast sparkles against the peak of each small wave, wind enough to bring quick finishes if not relief. Blair watched the collection of boats glide through the inner harbour and something happened. Somewhere between the nautical inspired print dress and navy hat, the crack of wind against tall sails, and the cheering crowds Blair rediscovered her own enthusiasm. She had always loved the Vanderbilt ship, a mass of natural wood and blue shirts. Nate raced with his grandfather every spring, manned the slip of wood with a team of cousins.
She could just catch a flash of his blonde hair as he dashed from one side of the boat to the other. She didn't need to see it, the memory was imprinted from the years past. The way his face lit up at each turn, or how his muscles pulled with every swing of the sails, or the way his lips tasted of salt water no matter if the spray had hit or not. It clung to him as an unspoken sign that summer was nearly here.
"Blair," Anne Archibald interrupted her trip down memory lane, or perhaps extended it. Nate's mother put a hand warmly to the younger girl's back. "Are you enjoying the race?"
"I always do," Blair admitted honestly.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Chuck Bass was actually walking to the Regatta dinner. It wasn't due to the extraordinary heat that made his suit cling in all the wrong places. Neither was it for the opportunity to ogle the lines of spectators along the seashore. It was better if he saw no brunette until it couldn't be avoided any longer. It wasn't even for the bouquet of roses he held in one hand. He'd had his man fetch Vanessa's flowers that afternoon. He was walking because he'd run out of options to calm down, because the crawling in his throat wasn't chased away after a swim or even another five pages in his journal. He was walking because Eric proved himself right again. Recognizing the truth didn't lift the distress anymore than living a lie had. His feet felt heavy, the flowers in his hand a burden. He tossed them in the last garbage can before he reached the corner, turned around it into something new. Vanessa was waiting by the front door, dress painted in shades of green and blue. When she caught him she stepped forward.
"Are you ready?" Chuck said without offering his arm.
"I need to talk to you first."
"Talk," Chuck turned his eyes to the rest of the guests, milling out from the entrance to the sides.
"I'm not doing this anymore. After tonight don't call me again," Vanessa said firmly. It made him snap his brown eyes to her violet ones. "Do whatever you need to tonight, make Blair jealous or make her hate you but after this exhibition I'm done."
"You'd give up everything?" Chuck asked in disbelief.
"I'm not giving up anything," Vanessa said confidently. "The Chuck Bass that I know, he wouldn't really do that to me."
Vanessa turned at that, green tinted seas disappearing with the crowd. Chuck didn't offered a retort but shut his eyes against the miscalculation. He didn't really care except that he had lost. He'd planned to end the game anyway. Nothing had truly changed except Chuck was left almost respecting Vanessa. He had to admire anyone who had the nerve to finally call him on his bull.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
The tension at that table was so thick that the four nearly choked in sequence. Three drank champagne to avoid it; the other turned his glass over and kept out of the middling conversations. If this was Nate's brilliant plan for a reconciliation than it succeeded as the rest of his usually did, only one step up from total failure. Then again, was that his plan? Did you ever truly believe that?
Eventually Blair agreed to dance to escape it. Nate had suggested that Chuck and Vanessa do the same but the two brunettes had refused immediately. Nate was disappointed. This evening was not progressing according to plan. Chuck wasn't making eyes at Vanessa, he was outright ignoring her. In fact, Nate's best friend was ignoring all of them, speaking only when questions were directly put to him, letting the rest carry on without him. He wasn't eating either, he was fully distracted. Things weren't working right at all. When Nate finally got Blair's pale hand through his, could finally pull her to the floor she was still staring at his best friend.
Blair wasn't sure whether she felt relief or misery in watching Chuck. The sadness came with how openly Vanessa pulled for him, the relief came with how firmly Chuck pulled back away. She watched him wrench free at every touch and felt relieved that it wasn't her being rejected again. Chuck had stopped being her problem when he'd stopped being hers. So she turned her attention back to her dance partner, followed his uncomplicated steps and realized. Blair Waldorf wanted simplicity more than anything else and Nathaniel Archibald was nothing if not simple.
So she let the taller boy spin her once and wondered. If she turned away fast enough would it set the butterflies free? Let them fly away at last?
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
It was like some twisted nightmare come to life, the way her tiny brunette body fit beside his taller blonde one. Chuck wanted to look away but he just couldn't. He couldn't delete it like he had the photographs, couldn't erase it like he'd tried to their history. It was right in front of him.
"Are you alright?" Vanessa asked, tried to touch his arm in sympathy. He pulled back.
"Don't touch me."
"You're obviously upset," Vanessa explained with a look right and left.
"Shut up," Chuck snapped through the wrenching of his heart. It took only one minute before he knew he had to exit. This was beyond what he could handle, the tears threatened and the way Vanessa kept trying to touch him proved that she knew it too. "I'm leaving."
"What?"
"Tell them I have business with my uncle," Chuck explained.
"And they're going to believe..."
"I have seven multimillion dollar projects on the go with him right now," Chuck snapped at the brunette. It shut her up. Who would have expected that?
"Why don't you stay and explain..." Vanessa tried but Chuck was already out of his chair. "Chuck!" Vanessa grabbed for his arm. He wrenched it free.
"You said you're done," Chuck reminded her. "So be done."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Lewis ran a finger along her wine glass, filled with orange juice as per her request. The tartness sort of fit the situation; Eating at the Wiltshire's always left a sour taste to her mouth. She didn't think the awkwardness at the Bass dining table could be bettered, but one look at the key in Aidan's grandfather's hand and she knew it had been. "It's just beyond the central playground at Central Park."
"I don't want to live in a Penthouse apartment."
"It's in the same building as the apartment you nearly sublet last month."
That was a two bedroom suite that she had been abandoned once she realized the entire building was a Wiltshire Holding. She was already feeling too influenced by her son's grandparents and suspected that if she had some family to replace them then she'd have walked away months ago.
"You really need to move out of the Bass townhouse," Beth Wiltshire started. "Do you know what people are saying about you?"
"After your entanglements with the son last year," Matthew stared meaningfully. "It's not good chatter."
"I don't care what people in New York think about me."
"You should," Matthew hit the note again. "If not for your sake then for your son's. He's going to have to live here when the time comes, do business with all the other industrialists in the city," He finished meaningfully.
Lewis hated how infuriatingly logical the elder Wiltshire could be. She took one more look at the lines in his face, then at the key before taking it from his outstretched hand.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Blair knew Chuck had left the table before they returned to it but she hadn't realized he'd left the restaurant until she saw that his jacket was gone. "Chuck has business with his uncle," Vanessa dealt out the lie, was standing before the other two could sit. "So I'm leaving too," She was twenty feet away before they could think to say goodbye.
Blair sat at the chair Nate pulled for her. "Maybe the fates conspired," Nate teased with those blue eyes. "To force us to have dinner together."
"I don't think fate uses flaky compatriots."
"Maybe she should," Nate teased further. "So that we can finally talk about things."
"I don't want to."
"Why not?" Nate asked. He waited patiently for the insult but there was no instantaneous snapping reply. With how long Blair waited without words Nate knew he was finally getting the truth. "What's stopping you from giving us another try?"
"I don't trust you." Blair explained. "You not only slept with Serena but you lied about it for months."
"I'm not going to pretend I haven't made tons of mistakes," Nate admitted. "But maybe I had to."
Blair snorted at that. She wasn't the person she'd been when she first found out about the infidelity. She wasn't going to pretend things were okay, that she wasn't hurt, or ignore things to try to make things work. She wasn't that desperate little girl anymore.
"I think I had to be with Serena to give up the fantasy, to prove to myself that she wasn't right." Nate crossed his hands on the table. "Maybe that's the same reason you had to be with Chuck, to get past your fascination and prove to yourself that you couldn't make him right."
Blair stared at that; never in their many years together had Nate ever put her preoccupation with Chuck to words. He'd teased and taunted but never honestly admitted it.
"Maybe we weren't meant to have an unbroken relationship from start to finish. We were so young when we started, and we had so much to learn." Nate dimpled. "But we're older now and wiser too."
"I still don't trust you," Blair said but it wasn't as forceful on the second rendering, her eyes turned down to the table rather than hung on his with resolve. "You fall in and out of love like it's an ill-timed sugar rush!"
Nate winched against the statement but pushed on. "Have I every chased anyone like I have you?" He asked. "Totally, against all odds, with only the slimmest chance of success?"
Blair had to admit he hadn't. Nate had always tripped in and out of what was offered. Even in the after effect of his affair, the best he could offer was an apology and a badly worded admonishment for her to accept or give up.
"If you can honestly tell me that you feel nothing for me, that when you look deep down there is nothing left at all between us, then I'll leave you alone. But if you find something then let's build it up together." Nate knew he'd finally won when she stayed silent, when she didn't deny things outright. "We could start slow," He promised. "Go to a movie?"
"How about another dance?" Blair suggested instead.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
By the weekend Eric realized a few things. The first was that he was quite fond of the Allenby brood. They might not have been like Damien. In fact, they were quite the opposite. His boyfriend had lined his four remaining brothers up the first night at the house and introduced them as "Doctor, lawyer, lawyer, and med student.," with one brow arched. Eric was starting to understand the dynamic Damien always referred to but despite the differences they were close. Damien's mother had the aristocratic posturing expected of the youngest daughter of an Earl, high cheekbones to match her accent and mannerisms. His father was more affable, possessing a kind of JFK approachability. The brothers took a blend of each, a sort of wit interspersed with highbrow conversation.
Serena had fallen in with the wives of the oldest three, defected to the garden after dinner. Damien had disappeared to speak privately with his grandfather in a back study. Eric had been introduced but, despite all his wealth and breeding, still felt intimidated by the Patriarch. So he defected to the mantle of the fireplace, found the Allenby family photos interspersed between the extended family. There were a lot of staged shots, professional renderings but Eric preferred the candid ones. They told a story. Eric picked up one. He guessed Damien's age to be twelve, he was laid out on the grass, legs and arms flailing as his older brother Tom soaked him with a hose. Eric put it back. They were all like that, Damien and Tom appeared side by side in all the family photographs.
"That was the spring of 2003," Mrs. Allenby explained. "It was unnaturally hot." Eric looked up at Damien's mother. "This one is my favourite," She grabbed another with a smile and passed it to her young guest. Damien was much younger than the last, probably closer to six in comparison to his brother Tom's fourteen. Tom was sitting cross legged on a tire swing, Damien having planted his tiny feet, was doing his best to push the older boy upward. "How is Damien doing?" The mother asked.
"Fine I suppose," Eric answered.
"He doesn't like to let on to things bothering him," Mrs. Allenby explained.
"He's trying pretty hard to hide it," Eric admitted.
"That's why we really appreciate your coming with Damien. For being with him through this time. My husband and I know how important you are to our son. Damien has never really had a boyfriend before," The mother explained. "He had a girlfriend once," She rambled. "But he'd never really had a steady person around...that's not to say he's had a lot of unsteady people around either," She backtracked nervously. "He's not a womani...maninizer."
"I think I get it," Eric laughed reassuringly as the older woman's face turned red.
"We all are very happy to finally meet you."
"As am I."
"We wanted to fly you out last year for Christmas but with everything that happened."
Eric took extra care to study the picture in his hands. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that.
"We're all very thankful that you forgave Damien for what he did. I hope you know that it's not something our youngest would normally chose to do. In fact, he wouldn't have done it at all if it didn't involve his brother Tom. He always idolized the older." Eric had guessed as much from the line of photos and the tattoo. "It's why we sent Damien to Eton. He was the only one of our sons to go despite being the least suited to it." Damien's mother laughed. "The only distinguishment Damien ever garnered was graduating at the bottom of his class but it was worth it to curb Tom's influences. Anyway," The woman squeezed Eric on the arm. "We're so glad that you made it."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
A/N – Wow, it's been a long time since we had a Bart pep talk. Nice to see he aced it again ;)
flipped – Yeah! Another reader! Glad you're enjoying it.
Bluestriker666 – Thanks :)
Bradshaw-esque – Will Bart and Lewis work things out? Hmmm, we'll see. I promise I won't ever break up ED. I love them too much :)
Supernovelty – I won't do that to you (have VC in a fake relationship for four weeks). They did manage 4 days but V is now done with it all. She doesn't have illusions of saving others.
BrittyKay – I'm glad you enjoyed TH. Hopefully you'll like YCFYF too. B is doing pretty well with not slipping up but she's relying on S.
Doxeh – You won't have to wait too long for the happy endings to start. The first of them comes either next post or the one after. We're starting with the person who deserves it most ;)
Hey – thanks :)
Annablake – alas the yelling match was between CN. Don't worry though, Blair is going to get the WHOLE truth and I think you'll like how it happens.
BlairS – I don't think B is going to prom with N as a game though. I think she genuinely wants to go. She's spent a long time crying over C and I don't think she wants to give up her life because of him. She's become quite a strong character.
Sky Samuelle – I hate Nate too, always have, always will ;) I do like Dan though. He kind of reminds me of my own high school boyfriend and at times I think I'm most like him personality wise.
Up Next – Nate discovers that his problems with C don't start and end with B. Damien prepares for the funeral. What's the one thing E has consistently wanted other than D saying ILU? He might just get it. Chuck gets wrapped up in drama that shouldn't involve him. He better not lose sight of what's important at the moment.
