A/N: So since this is Gone With the Will, it gets a tad angsty at the end. I've had some complaints that some of these aren't actual allusions, but not all episodes have them and some quotes I just have to do. And I just couldn't help not adding the last one.
Summary: They would either be enemies or lovers, but there was no in between. There was no mutual acquaintances. There was no warm friendship. It was either scalding hot or cold revenge.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Quotes are GG. There's not GG tonight. vnjdksnvjsdknvds. And I know this is a poor substitute, but a substitute nonetheless.
Dinner
I'm having dinner with Blair.
Reschedule Blair.
I can't. She's been a good friend to me.
It wasn't like she had expected change overnight. Surely the night after he almost toppled off of a building he wouldn't be all sunshine. Not that he ever was in the beginning. But she at least thought he wouldn't be stupid enough to go out again the following night. She knew that Jack was a terrible influence but the point of being under Jack's roof was so he wouldn't bail again. And what did she see as she walked into the club that night? None other than Chuck Bass. And she wanted to scream.
At least he wasn't covered in his usual hoard of whores. That was something. But he wasn't exactly sober either. Point of fact, he was shitfaced. Blair grimaced as she approached. She didn't want her head to get bitten off again, but hell if she was going to watch him self destruct. She was going to save him whether he liked it or not.
"Waldorf."
She wasn't sure if that was relief or snideness in his voice. His words were too slurred. He never slurred.
Damn.
She crossed her arms over her chest and she watched his eye line dip. She was usually offended when he showed such displays, but in the past year or so, she had learned to appreciate it. It was just his way of complimenting her. Ever since the funeral and a week before, such displays had stopped. She knew that when he consumed alcohol, more if him shown through. And this just included his crudity and desires. She would accept the compliment.
"To what do I owe this... esteemed pleasure."
Whenever he paused like that in between sentences, it wasn't because he was thinking of what to say. Even when he was drunk, he had perfectly crafted sentences. It was the word after the pause that would be stressed. And it was the lechery in that word that was impossible to ignore.
Again, she just had to accept it as the compliment that it was.
"To the fact that I'm taking you home," she replied, reaching out for him. He dodged her hand with ease but lost his balance slightly in the process.
"No thanks," he replied, his voice sans venom. "I like it here."
She leaned forward. "Will you like it when you take the view from above again?"
She watched his eyes flicker with emotion at her low question. Another person would have dismissed it, but she knew it to be slight guilt. She didn't know why, but she knew it was there. This time when she reached out, he leaned into her. This caught her by surprise but she let her hitched breath pass out easily. From his expression, she knew that he had heard it anyway.
"I'm sorry," he said again. She knew he truly was.
"Jack just let you out of the house?" Blair asked, not able to fight the sneer from her voice. He was supposed to be taking care of Chuck.
"He didn't mind."
He's going to.
Blair rolled her eyes and pulled him onto the street where he promptly vomited. She looked in disdain at the expelled alcohol, blaming it for the pain it was causing him. And anything else that was causing it. He looked up into her eyes as though begging for forgiveness. She had forgotten how precious he was when he was drunk. Truly drunk, not just that suave way he would saunter around. She helped him to his feet and into the limo that was waiting.
"Why are you here?" he asked softly after a while.
"Why are you?"
She watched his eyes train to hers. "I asked you first."
"I told you," she responded.
"So you'll just keep trying to save me from myself?" he asked, humor tinting his voice.
"As long as it takes."
He didn't answer but maybe he actually heard her this time.
"Thank you."
She looked at him in confusion. He couldn't seem to look at her as he answered.
"You're the only one who hasn't really given up on me," he said. If she wasn't mistaken, she would have detected shyness in his voice. But this was Chuck Bass. So, not so much.
"It's not that hard," Blair shrugged, "when you care about someone."
He was staring at her in the way that made her nervous. She looked away from his penetrating gaze. She knew if their eyes stayed connected for any longer something terrible would happen. It wouldn't be terrible at first. At first it would just burn and sizzle, providing euphoria and ecstasy. But after, everything would be ruined. She would rather just wait. She didn't think he felt the same way, however.
"Look," Blair said towards the window. "We're here."
He didn't respond. It's not like he could disagree. She stepped out of the limo, letting him lean on her. Despite his ability to fake sobriety exceedingly well for Bart's benefit, Blair knew when she was around him. She knew when he was faking and when he could barely hold himself together. This was one of those times she would have to help him stumble to his suite.
In her vast career as one of Chuck Bass's best friends, she had seen things and done things that no one should ever do. She had helped Chuck when he was most needy, something no one would ever believe. Nate was never up to par when it came to that. But it was just something she had an aptitude for and you really had to play to your strengths. So she pulled the key out of her clutch that she still had after Chuck gave it to her to seduce Nate with. She didn't know why she kept it, but he didn't seem to mind. Or notice, for that matter.
She didn't bother with the lights as she heard him shuffle into the room. He wouldn't be staying up. She would make sure of it. She would stay until morning if that meant protecting him from the various substances and whores that he indulged in. It wasn't jealousy. She just cared. It didn't seem logical, but to her, it just was.
Now he was self absorbed and indulgent. But she knew him better than anyone. And when they were alone, he would say and do things that she hadn't even thought possible. And that was worth what was happening now. Because she was sure in the future, it wouldn't always be like this. She was sure that her Chuck would come back and things would be like they used to be.
His hands were wrapped around her waist as he leaned his head against her shoulder as she deposited him onto his bed. She just stood back, not wanting to touch him, not wanting to move any closer, but not wanting to leave either. She just... wanted to be there.
"You could join me," grated his deep and gravelly voice. Her eyes snapped to his form sprawled on the bed. She really wished her thoughts weren't immediately going back to those moments when she would. She would be by his side and she let him have her in ways that no one else ever had. Or ever would.
She could still tell the inebriation in his voice. She very well could.
She could crawl onto the bed next to him and he would be doing the thing she wished she let him do. He would do things to her that she couldn't spell. But that would ruin it. She would let him ruin them. She would let them ruin them. So because of his drunken lewdity, she went for lightness.
"Not tonight, Bass," she said dryly. She was about to walk from his head. She knew she couldn't just leave him. He made her weak. As much as she wanted to stay to protect him, she knew staying would be detrimental to her principles. She couldn't just stay because she really couldn't say how fast her clothing would hit the floor. But it would be fast.
"Goodnight," she said softly, turning from his bed. Her heart leapt into her throat as she felt his scorching touch through her blouse. She let him pull her so she faced him.
"Stay," he rasped. He could tell that she was close to refusing him completely. He hated rejection. Mostly because it rarely happened to him. And almost all of the times it was, it was from her. He hated it when she turned away from him. But right now he needed her. He wasn't about to admit it, but it was true. And he knew that she knew it was true.
He felt her hand start to slid from his. He grasped tighter. She didn't try to pull away this time. She just stared into his eyes.
"Blair," he said darkly. "You don't want me to run away again, do you?"
Damn him. He knew her too well. And guilt was just one of the ways he could manipulate her. She glowered. She could tell when he was pulling one over her. The difference was that she let him. And sometimes, she really hated him for it. "So make me stay."
"I hate it when you do that."
He graced her with one smug smirk. "I know." He pulled her lightly by the hand. It wasn't enough to bring her to his side, but it was enough for her. It was just enough. She sat on the edge of the bed, wary of what his plans were for her. Because she knew no matter what they were, she would be powerless to stop them. He was unfair that way.
"Just stay."
She knew he would valiantly deny that was pleading in his voice, but she would always know.
"Just stay with me."
She laid her head on the pillow next to his, never breaking the gaze they seemed entrapped in. She thought she was finally safe when his eyes drifted close. She let her own eyes start to droop.
She should have known better. She could have seen this one coming. She was so stupid.
Sure enough, that was his heated breath on the shoulder that her blouse seemed to drift off of. She clenched her eyes shut, not wanting to face the reality of when she opened them. But she had to. She did and his face was pressed against her hair, breathing her in. She wished he wasn't so influential over her but that was just something that she had to deal with. Something that she always had to deal with.
"Chuck," she warned.
She shouldn't have said anything.
He took this as encouragement and leaned towards her. Her eyes snapped shut again just as his hot breath caressed her lips. She ordered herself not to reciprocate, but a kiss from Chuck Bass was a kiss from Chuck Bass and she foolhardily found herself responding.
She shouldn't have. Whenever she was with him she just made bad decisions. She let him touch her. She let herself love him. He trailed across her cheek and down the delicate curve of her alabaster neck.
She felt those traitorous tears prick her vision. She wanted so badly to give in to him. It would be so easy. She would let him corrupt her so easily. But she just couldn't. She felt herself pulling away. He got the message but was resistant to stopping. He leaned into her hair again.
"I missed you, Waldorf," he said huskily into her ear.
"I'm staying so you don't hurt yourself again," she reminded him. He finally allowed himself to pull away.
"I'm sorry," he murmured into the pillow. She knew he was close to just fading into slumber. He just needed someone. He needed her.
"It's okay," she assured him. Once again. She let her fingers encircle the back of his neck, pulling him into an embrace that was too painfully reminiscent and familiar. But he let himself be held by her again, if only for a little while.
"I miss you too," she said to someone who couldn't hear her anymore.
It was hard. But no one said that Chuck Bass was easy (even when in other ways he was.) It wasn't easy taking a deep breath, looking in the mirror and walking out the front door. And wasn't easy getting him breakfast. And it sure as hell wasn't easy knocking on his door to see that his crude uncle standing the in the doorway. All of these mundane tasks would have been fine if not for one minute detail. She was completely in love with the man she was doing them for and she couldn't do a thing about it.
Chuck was fragile right now. She knew that there was only one person who could take care of him (and this did not involve his middle aged uncle.) The problem wasn't that. The problem was looking into his eyes every day and not succumbing to the one thing she wished she could. She wished the passion could overtake her again. But it just wasn't possible. Not now. Not when he needed her the most.
Blair started subtley when it wasn't the Bass she was hoping for in the doorway. Jack cast an amused yet stomach churning (not in the good way) look at her as he leaned in the doorway.
"Can I help you?"
"Not you," she replied. "Last time I checked it wasn't your dead father who owned the hotel."
"My dead brother," he corrected.
"Where is he?"
They both knew she wasn't talking about Bart.
"He's not presentable at the moment," Jack said coolly.
"I have seen Chuck in states you wouldn't believe," Blair said in annoyance, pushing past him into the room.
"I'm sure you have."
From the tone in his voice, Blair knew he wasn't just talking about drunken night escapades on rooftops. Maybe she wasn't either. She walked through the living area which was conspiratorially filled with empty amber glasses. He really was a great influence.
She stopped as she saw his form sprawled underneath his covers, breathing in and out evenly. She knew it was the first time he had really slept for a month and she couldn't move to him. She felt Jack's lurking presence behind her so she proceeded. She put the bag with the breakfast she knew that he wasn't having (once again, thank you Jack for your amazing parenting skills) and turned on her heel.
She cast a glowering look at Jack, and edged by him. She didn't want to encourage anything.
"Leaving so soon?"
"Looks like you've got everything handled," Blair said snidely. She hope he understood the sarcasm in her voice. So much that she didn't comprehend the slight stirring in the bed at the smell of the food. And maybe even the smell of something else.
Chuck could sleep with the dead. He had always been a very heavy sleeper. He couldn't count the number of times he had awaken in his bed only to find the scent of her embedded in his sheets as the only proof that she had ever graced him with her presence and body at all.
Since Bart had died, he had never slept a full night of rest. He was an insomniac to begin with. The slightest fluttering in his stomach made sure that he stayed up all night with serious thoughts on what "like" meant. But after the funeral it was that much worse.
For some reason, however, after that night, all he wanted to do was sleep. The way her arms had folded him like he belonged next to her was the most comforting thing he had ever experienced.
His eyes fluttered open at the stirring in his stomach. It wasn't the annoying butterfly kind. At first. His eyes shifted over to see a bag on the table next to the bed with the scent of the food wafting towards him. He hadn't had solid food for over a month. It seemed she always knew what was best for him.
He knew it was her. Because after he got over the scent of the food, he could smell the remains of her perfume. He struggled to disentangle himself from his sheets with vigor. His strength was seriously waning. He lurched to his feet, following where he knew she had disappeared to.
Jack was leaning against the counter. Chuck could only assume what it was that he was drinking. And what was he doing here again? Chuck narrowed his eyes when he heard the door close softly.
"Jack," was all Chuck needed to say. His eyes strayed for the door again.
"You just missed her." Chuck didn't like that look on his uncle's face. "I guess she didn't want to stick around."
Like hell.
Chuck pulled the door open. He knew the truth. She wasn't even down the hallway yet, like she was stalling her steps. He reached out and grasped her forearm, turning her to him. She looked vaguely surprised but still pulled gently from him.
"Chuck," she said. It wasn't like the last time she said his name when he was teetering on the edge of a building. It was like how she used to say it. When she would push his hair from his face, tracing the hard angles of his bone structure. He liked it when she said it like that.
"Hey," he replied. He watched her fidget slightly. Awkward silences. "Blair--"
"So Jack seems to be taking an active role in your life," Blair interrupted. He knew she was just avoiding the topic that he always seemed to stir up.
"I don't even know what he's doing here," he answered honestly. Then he looked at her. "Did you..."
"No," she shook her head. "Like I would encourage that trainwreck of an excuse for a potential guardian."
"Blair..." he tried again.
"It's okay."
She already knew what he was going to say.
"No," he said. "It's not. You know that I didn't mean... It was just a bad night."
"That may actually be the best apology I've ever heard from you," she smirked. He smiled back at her. He was glad that his Blair was back. Even if it wasn't exactly the way he wished it was.
"I wish I could be better for you," he suddenly said honestly.
"Chuck," she shook her head. It seemed like their roles were suddenly reversed. Now it was Chuck who was the mess and she shouldn't be taking advantage of his vulnerable state. But he did it to her. Not that she wasn't totally asking for it, because she knew she was. He just had that effect on her.
"My father's will is being read," he said.
That really wasn't what she was expecting.
"Oh," she said in surprise.
"I don't want to go alone."
"Won't Jack and Lily be there?"
She knew that wasn't really what he was hinting at.
"Lily's in Boston," he replied. "God knows why. And you're not exactly the biggest Jack supporter."
"Are you?" she asked.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "When you don't like someone, I just find it that much easier to doubt them. You've always had the best instincts."
"If you don't want to go alone..."
"I just thought you should know," Chuck shrugged. Blair knew that he could never really ask her. He wasn't like that.
"Well if you want support, who better than me?" she asked lightly. He smirked slightly at this and nodded.
"Then I'll see you there," he promised. "In the meantime you can decide where we're having dinner."
"Dinner?" she repeated. He knew it wasn't in detestation. He liked it when she wanted to go out with him.
"We're having dinner after the will is read," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Wear something nice."
"I can't believe you'd ever doubt me, Bass," she replied.
"I'm taking that as a yes."
"I didn't know that you were asking," she retorted.
"Waldorf," he said as she was about to leave. "You know... what happened that night..."
"It's fine."
She was smiling for real this time.
"You'll find a way to make it up to me at dinner."
He watched her leave in satisfaction, thinking of the ways he would really, really make it up to her, not feeling his uncle's cruel eyes all over him.
Comparisons
Giving the company to a teenager who can't keep his pecker in his pants for 24 hours.
At least I can keep mine in service for longer than five minutes.
It wasn't anything special. In fact, if she wasn't so nauseated by the drugs, alcohol, and self loathing, not to mention the fact that he was at least twice her age, it would have been kind of funny. It didn't last long at all. She thought that maybe the Bass stamina was a family trait or something but it was becoming clearer and clearer to her that Chuck was one of a kind. She knew this all along, she just wished he was still by her side to prove it to her.
Instead, she got the knock-off Chuck in the form of Jack Bass. The last two letters weren't enough to replace the first three that were just different. After she vomited and he left, she dreamt of the person she wished she had bedded.
She knew her mother was worried. She spent all day holed up in her room and Cyrus must have told her what she told him after Chuck fled for the first time (but not the last) after the wake. And all she could think of was the unhealthy thing that she shouldn't be.
He would leer at her in his subconscious and scowl the way he did when she wasn't paying him any attention. She wished she could reach forward and touch the rough and hard angles of his face but knew that if she did, he would just vanish, the way he always vanished.
You're perfect.
She tried to ignore his voice as she stared at herself in the mirror. She didn't want him in the back of her mind when she was forcing her fingers down her throat while thinking of why he could never ever love her. Why no one could.
It was hopeless.
She couldn't sleep at midnight. It was the anniversary of her self destruction. It was one night turned into morning and a new year had become. And yet she was crying in a hotel room about letting some decrepit and disgusting man touch her. She would just imagine who she hoped it would be. But the comparison was futile. It was just so different, there was no way she could compare it.
You feel so good.
She wished she could still hear his dirty and beautiful utterances in her ear. Now, it was just greedy and self centered grunts that she had to block out at night so she didn't relive the nightmare. She was an insomniac. She couldn't sleep at midnight. It was when she tore herself apart, letting another man split her.
And it wasn't even worth it.
That first night with Chuck was something she would never forget. It wasn't mainly because (though this was a big part) she lost her virginity that night. It was because she realized something that she should have before. When Serena had skipped town there was really only one person who was there for her, who got her. His best friend was absent too, if not physically. He knew what it was like to have an absent father, if not physically. And he knew what it was like to have a parent who would never support or accept you, very physically.
She didn't have a boyfriend really and he didn't really have a best friend. They had each other and it was the first time that she saw him. She just didn't know it.
Now she was staring at him staring at her and while all of this staring was occurring was going around, she made the snap decision and suddenly her virginity was only a memory. The memory was snap, but the event itself... that was very languid and drawn out. Not in the painful way. It was the way he could manipulate her made it feel like she wasn't in pain at all. He could always make her think things that weren't true.
And then she saw him. She had tried so long to convince herself that he wasn't for her. She tried to think that she didn't love him. She pulled away so harshly because even in that first night, she knew something had changed drastically. It wasn't that she had suddenly turned into a nympho, not being able to resist being with him without stripping her clothes off her body or that sensually seductive way he would look, or even just breathe, licking his lips in anticipation of what they both knew was what was to occur. It was inevitable. They were inevitable.
He taught her things she sometimes didn't even want to remember. But she even prided herself in thinking that maybe she was the only woman he was ever this way with. She never asked because she didn't really want to know the truth. What if she was wrong? But now he was gone and none of that really mattered anymore. Maybe it never did.
It wasn't the sex.
Or... it wasn't just the sex. She loved the way his eyes worshiped her and yet devoured her at the same time. He knew her in ways no one else ever did or ever could. And it lasted hell of a lot longer than five minutes. It was eternities of ecstasy, her riding some wave that had no chance of breaking. And he did it with her. He did everything with her. And now... he was just gone. He didn't love her. Never had, never would.
But that couldn't stop her from endlessly loving him. It was impossible. She was sure he knew this. She didn't know how to make it any more clear. Maybe it was a little convoluted by letting his own uncle touch her, but he didn't know about that. Not yet at least. And they were always ahead of the learning curve. They weren't like others. That's why they felt so right. They were just so... good.
She would vomit when she saw Jack now, as though she could smell his nauseating scent all over her again. But Chuck would grace her with even one look, and she would fall to pieces. He would smirk and he was her Chuck again. She couldn't ask for anything more.
She could ask for him to grace her bed again, but maybe he would say yes. And maybe this whole heartbreaking cycle would just start all over again.
And it would be worth it.
You're worth it.
She could only imagine the possibilities he was referring to.
I know.
When it came to him, she was always sure.
Self absorption looks hot on you, Waldorf.
She couldn't stop the burning embarrassment spread down her neck as he followed the trail with his fingers.
Likewise, Bass.
He would smirk because he knew it was true.
That confidence wasn't with him anymore. It was when he would smile that secret smile that only she was aware that was in existence. But now it was gone. Maybe it flew to Thailand. Maybe it could tell her where he was. Maybe she could feel again.
He could read her body like no one else. They fit each other like they were made for one another. She always strayed from thoughts like those because it could only lead to her own destruction. Chuck didn't roll that way and she would never admit it to him. She didn't roll that way. But he was gone and it didn't really matter any more, now did it?
It wasn't the eons of heavenly bliss that he sent her into. It was the fact that he deigned to do so at all on purpose. And it was the fact that five minutes with a grotesque shattered image of love inside her sent her reeling with self mutilation. It wasn't the time it took. It was that Chuck was there when no one else was. Now he never would be again.
I love you.
If only he could hear her. Maybe he would come back.
Wife
Today when you called me your wife, you made it sound like the ugliest word in the world.
When Blair used to think about getting married, it was arranged. It was arranged since she was small. Eleanor and the Captain (with input from Anne) thought it would just be darling if their children were betrothed. Not to mention amazing if they merged their genes.
There was one defining moment when that was all over. She put on that gaudy Vanderbilt ring and cringed. Maybe being married to Nate wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it would be a cold marriage bed, but she could always count on him to be dependable. But that was it.
She slid off the heavy ring to never see it again.
And then she lost her virginity.
That was the point. Wife was just a title. She didn't like how it sounded as it rolled around on her tongue. Because she would never be Nathaniel Archibald's wife. Not of her own volition, at least. Now, her future married life looked bleak. This was for one reason and one reason only.
Chuck Bass wasn't the marrying type. She was 18. She shouldn't be thinking about these things. But all she could bear to do was look into the future and see Charles Bartholomew Bass and nothing else. She knew things were spiraling horridly out of control between them. But they would never be friends again. That went out of the tinted limousine window as her cries crested against leather. That was just gone.
They would either be enemies or lovers, but there was no in between. There was no mutual acquaintances. There was no warm friendship. It was either scalding hot or cold revenge. There was nothing else. There just wasn't.
She couldn't lie that she harbored those secret fantasies. She looked at her mother finally being happy for the first time since Harold decided moving to France with his gay lover was in style. And when Blair thought about it, maybe there was that man out there for her. Maybe there was a man that would come home from work at 6. He wouldn't be popping pills and snorting coke. Hookers wouldn't be hanging off of him and lecherous innuendos wouldn't taint his lips.
But that just meant that his name wouldn't be Chuck Bass. He would be healthy for her. He would love her dearly and that would be enough. It would be enough if she had never met Chuck Bass. If she had never met the other half of her soul.
She didn't care how it sounded. She was a romantic and that's how it was for her. He may be a cynic, but when he was with her, he was as romantic as could be. He was romantic for Chuck Bass and that was only when he was with her.
When she looked into the future, maybe she would see an adoring husband. But he wouldn't know all of her. Not the way only one person could. She would settle for second best. The very best, but second best nonetheless. Maybe she could live with it if Chuck could just leave her alone.
She didn't want him to. He looked up at her with scantily clad women all around him, sneering, and she still wanted to do good by him. She still wanted to make him happy more than anything. He wasn't healthy. He wasn't going to change. He would going to self destruct, combust right in front of her and she couldn't do a thing to stop it.
She couldn't watch it anymore either. And that was that.
He did the unforgivable. He did something that she had to turn away from. He seethed around the word wife and she knew it was an end. It wasn't that he wasn't the marrying type or he thought the word wife was insulting. It was that he didn't see himself with her ever again and she couldn't handle it.
Looking into his eyes would be her downfall. She wanted him forever. He would never get boring. He would always know her. He was better than anyone even when he was at his worst. She didn't need to get married. She would happy with him just at her side for the rest of her life. Teenagers didn't think like that, but Chuck and Blair were the forever kind. It was hard and it was difficult but it was the truth.
She knew looking into his eyes of entrapment, she would just break. She would accept his peonies with himself wrapped around him and let him back into her heart. She would bend over backwards and break again and everything would be fine. Even when it wasn't.
Looking at him would be her downfall.
She secretly wanted to keep them. She knew that would break her too. She needed to sever all ties from him for the sole fact that once he wormed his way back into her life, no matter how much he was decaying what she was housed in, she would let it crumble around her. She would revel in the rubble and grind the pleasure right from her willing body. It was unhealthy and it was wrong but it had happened so many times before.
She just couldn't.
She threw them at his feet. They were beautiful. They were precious. They were perfect. Just like him. But for now, she just couldn't. Not when he hated himself. Not when he hated her. His wife. Because that was what she would be, forever and always.
Only when the elevators closed did she let the held back tears truly wound her face for real. It wasn't that she didn't want to be his wife, be his everything. It was that when he looked into tomorrow, it was possible that he didn't even see her there.
