Pass Dully By

"You're late Ms. Waldorf."

Blair scurried past Chuck, into the sparse private tutoring room with its large table, two chairs, and chalkboard. With a cold, delicious arrogance, Chuck pulled the door closed behind him while Blair primly smoothed down her plaid skirt as she took her seat.

He came to tower over her and Blair's mind went fuzzy from the scent of his cologne. She'd suggested he wear a suit to make it more convincing that he was older. He didn't have to wear her favorite suit though. "Seeing as it's our last session before you take the SAT's" he paused for effect, "again, I might consider letting it slide."

Blair meekly pulled a pencil out of her bag as Chuck retrieved a folder from his and proffered her verbal test exercise. She had thought doing some SAT practice with her greatest distraction in the room would be a great idea. As he pulled the empty seat next to her away and sat in the corner to watch her, the wetness between her legs was giving her have second thoughts.

Chuck looked down at his watch and after a moment said, "Begin."

Blair flipped the paper over and began. She did well focusing, as Chuck quietly sat in the corner reading on a tablet. But she stumbled a moment at the term 'oblectation'. Pleasure. She pressed her lips together to prevent a smile, remembering this was work and play. With this thought, she relaxed oh so slightly, letting her knees fall open, before pressing on through the test.

However, when she reached the term 'cephalic' she looked up and glared at Chuck. He innocently returned her gaze and then tapped on the face of his watch. Basshole.

After countless more minutes passed, Chuck stood and began writing a pair of math problems on the board. Blair gave herself the briefest moment to stare up at his ass and how the trousers hung from his hips. Without his gaze on her, she popped open two buttons on her blouse, exposing the lacy temptations beneath.

She finished the last page with a few minutes on the clock. One of the last words at the end was 'disporting' and it made Blair smile to herself. She turned the pages over, crossing her ankles to allow her knees to fall open even more as she did so. She'd pinned up her skirt to make it shorter, just to torment him. That, and she might have forgotten to put anything on under it.

Chuck, who was seated in his chair again, was looking at her, his face revealing nothing much to Blair's annoyance. When he came for the pages, he picked them up and leaned against the table as he stood next to her. Looking at her answers he commented, "If you're going to undo two buttons, you may as well take the entire shirt off."

Blair, looking at her lap, stuttered her reply, "I don't… I…What can you mean, Mr. Bass?"

Chuck dropped her test on the table and leaned down to finger the top most closed button. "Play coy if you like, but for months now we've teased and flirted. This is the end of our game and I fully intend on disporting myself, don't you? If you understand," he let his hand rise and traced his finger along her bottom lip, "kneel on the table. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

He drew back, shrugging off his suit jacket. The answer was always yes, but Blair was also enjoying her brief return to innocence. She looked up at him, her eyes large "On the table?"

Chuck affected a look of mild annoyance before offering his hand to help her clamor up onto the table, primly kneeling in the direction he indicated. Then he picked up her practice test and sat next to her.

He looked at her, bringing his hands to the shortened row of buttons on her blouse, popping them open, one by one as Blair felt her cheeks grow more and more pink. In an effortlessly smooth motion, his hands rose to cup her face, and he leaned in to kiss her, before his hands pushed the stiff white oxford from her shoulders and down her arms. She was drinking in his kiss when she gasped, the clasp on her bra undone at his easy touch.

Like flipping a switch, Chuck pulled away and was looking down at her practice test by the time she realized he was really gone and opened her eyes. Blair refused to pull her bra down as she glared at him.

Without lifting his eyes, he used one hand to hook the front of her bra and pull it free as he spoke, "Pinch or lick. Shall we see how you fair?"

The air in the room was cool on her bare skin and Blair focused on staring at the side of Chuck's face, imaging how his profile would look as those old time silhouettes before her eyes wandered to his ears, the line of his jaw…

She didn't even register the movement of his hand before his fingers were upon her, giving her nipple a smarting tweak. Refusing him the pleasure of her cry, Blair held her tongue between her teeth for control and distraction. His hand moved to her other breast, repeating the punishment, and Blair continued to hold her queenly demeanor. While half naked, kneeling on a tabletop, next to her gorgeous boyfriend.

But yet again, Chuck distracted her thoughts, turning to capture her mouth with his a moment before doling out her reward, his mouth hot on her skin, traveling down to find her nipples hard and waiting. Blair's mind went white at the touch of his tongue, his hands on her back as hers sank into his hair, her eyes closing out the light so she could revel in his darkness.

One of his hands returned to the unattended nipple, his fingers pinching and pulling. Blair finally gasped at the pleasure crossing into pain. She opened her eyes to find him pulling away, that wicked half smile on his lips. Flipping the switch on his demeanor once more, he pointed to the chalkboard with cool indifference to her agitated state of arousal and commanded that she do the math equations. He turned to put the questions away and Blair shot him a cruel pout, and though he could not have seen it, he reiterated his command by saying, "Ms. Waldorf" his voice deep and edged with promise.

Blair slid down from the table and tried to reach for her blouse but he shook his head. Frustrated, she turned on her heels and looked up at the board. He'd written the first equation high up enough that Blair was unsteady on her tip toes when she started writing. She had scrawled a few numbers before she teetered from the touch of Chuck's fingertips gently brushing the back of her thigh, across the oasis of skin between her white thigh highs and the hem of her skirt. The fingers traveled up then in, threatening to find out just how wet she was for him. The torture was acute and Blair felt her naked breasts press against the icy cold chalkboard, sliding as she lowered her feet.

She turned to him, reproachful at his interruption, only to find him leaned against the table once more, unfastening his belt. He tutted at her, "You've erased the second equation."

Blair glanced back at the board to see where her breasts had fully smeared the white chalk into senseless streaks on the green surface. The blush rising on her cheeks was embarrassment at such a loss of control but when her eyes returned to him, all she saw in his gaze was the fun he was having.

He reached out one hand to caress her naked thigh under her skirt as he coaxed and promised, "Finish the equation and I'll let you finish too. After all, isn't this to test your focus?"

Blair closed her eyes and inhaling she steeled herself against the pleasure of his touch, where his fingers were nearly reaching. Opening her eyes, she raised her head and shoved his hand away before turning back to the chalkboard. Resolute, she began working on the equation again, even as his hand once more was dancing across that bare expanse of skin, so close to where she ached for him. She pushed out of her mind what she knew his other hand must be doing, occupying himself as he waited.

As she finished a step, he mused, "Is that correct?" His fingers fully slid between the tops of her thighs before adding, "I don't think any of the Yale girls would have taken this long."

She didn't know how she didn't scream at him as she used her hand to smear away the incorrect number while his fingers slid back through her wetness to return their lazy caresses. She focused on finishing the final short steps of the equation.

Chuck mused, "How many libraries are there at Yale? We should make a list to keep track."

Blair vengefully threw the chalk into the tray before she was his arms. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as her lips met his, his arms pulling her body tight to him. He turned, pushing her to sit atop the table as her legs naturally rose to wrap around his hips. He rocked into her and the world fell away. They held each other tight, the soft fabric of his dress shirt against her aching nipples, his hungry mouth on hers, the heat and hardness of him driving her higher into the light.

The table was keeping blessedly quiet, the only sound was their breathing and the incredible wetness of Blair's desire as they moved together. Between kisses, Chuck drew her attention to the sound, tormenting her more by staying in character "Ms. Waldorf, how long have you been so dripping wet for me?"

She pleaded with him by softly crying out his name.

His mouth on hers once more, he soon drew her pleasure from her, Blair clinging to him even tighter as her body was flooded with ecstasy. But soon her desire was craving his release, as hers waned to a throbbing heat in her blood. She was wicked temptation in his ear as his thrusts grew more urgent.

"Chuck," she softly cried once more. "You promised I could finish. But I have my finish only when yours has poured from you."

He cursed and she whimpered please in reply, and a few forceful thrusts later, she had her prize.

They exchanged short sweet kisses as their bodies calmed. Blair gave a small laugh as she felt him slip from her and pull away, "15."

"Hmm?" Chuck was tidying himself.

"Yale's library has 15 branches."

Chuck shook his head, unsurprised she knew the answer to his question—or that she remembered his taunt after the fact. Blair sat primly atop the table, her ankles crossed, as she had stashed panties in her bag but until she could retrieve them she needed to not move much, though even that had a time limit.

Chuck pulled some pages from his bag. He leaned down, placing them in her hands before whispering in her ear, "How well can you complete reading comprehension while not spilling my cum?"

This memory filled Blair's mind as she stood by her locker Saturday morning, watching students registering for the SAT session. She knew her nipples were hard inside her lined bra and her panties soaked under her skirt as she ached at the sweetly dirty memory mixed with the knowledge of Chuck's bitter betrayal.

Then she recognized Nate as he stood with some boys, registering at the table. She waved to him and saw his eyes light up before he raised his hand and waved back. After a moment he broke from the group as Blair quickly pulled her notebook from her locker and closed it.

"Hey, Blair! What are you doing here? You took it last month, didn't you?" Nate cheerfully asked.

"I did, I'm here because the social committee had to cancel their meeting this week, and this is the only day that worked for everyone before the contract deadlines for the mixer." If Blair didn't know Nate quite so well, she might have missed the slight nervousness in his tone when he had spoken, or the sense of relief that washed over him now.

"Oh, that sucks. Well," he beamed his golden boy smile at her, "wish me luck? I should go get my seat."

"Good luck, Nate."

After her meeting ended, Blair went out of her way to walk past the testing room before heading home. She looked in through the window of the door but all she could see were the students backs. She easily found Nate's shaggy head but it was difficult to confidently recognize anyone else. The cold thought that Chuck was in that room slid down her back and over her arms, goose bumps rising.

But she didn't care what he did, or did not, do. She wasn't going to wait around for the test to end to find out. She was Blair Waldorf and she had more important things to do.

Serena was beautifully spread across one of the trundle beds arranged in the living room. With a sigh, she took another martini from Dorota and proclaimed, "No one does sleepovers better than you, Blair."

Kati and Iz were digging through the racks of clothes Eleanor had sent from Paris while Penelope was doing Hazel's makeup at the large table covered with all the hair and makeup tools and palettes a girl could want to play with. Blair sat down next to Serena with her own martini in hand. "I figured we all needed it."

"Even though that was the smoothest transition of a Queen during the school year ever." Hazel chimed in. "When did you two even make up?"

Penelope stabbed Hazel in the arm with the solid end of the blush brush.

Blair smiled.

"During break, Nate locked us in a room until we made up," Serena offered.

That half lie was enough to make Blair drink down her martini.

"We talked about everything and honestly, keeping everyone in line is a lot of work. With the stuff going on at home, I asked Blair, as my oldest friend, to take back managing you crazy girls." Serena finished with her winningest smile.

"How is your grandma doing, Serena?" Kati waved Penelope over to look at peach wrap dress.

Blair wrinkled up her face. "Peach is so not your color, Penelope."

Kati and Penelope stared down at the dress and forfeited their agreement, Kati putting the dress back on the rack.

"Her and mom are always finding something to fight about, because treatment isn't already hard enough." Serena rolled her eyes. "But that's Grandma CeCe for you; she's not going to let something like this take her out. Pretty sure she's still putting gin in her teacup."

The girls all chuckled.

"Well let us know if we can do anything?" Penelope peeped.

"Oh!" Blair stood up. "I forgot, Eleanor sent a gift for CeCe along with the dresses but I left it in my room."

Blair had only a few martinis so far but mentioning how the boys had locked them in Chuck's room brought back the hurt she'd been running from all week. Walking through the foyer, up the stairs, memories of him, of them, seemingly floated through the air like disgusting, sticky cobwebs, clinging to her skin.

As though she could outrun them, she rushed to her bedroom only to be startled to find Hazel there, holding Blair's Tiffany diary in her hands, fussing with the lock. Blair's hurt and sadness turned on a dime, the Queen quickly stepping forward to snatch the leather book from the minion's hands. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

The small girl turned nearly jumped at her discovery. She sputtered as she turned red. "Look, everyone else—the whole school is happy to fall into line behind you. They happily ignore that you're not telling us everything."

Rather than reply, Blair simply crossed her arms. Her posture said it all: Try me.

Hazel drew herself up and locked eyes with Blair. "What the hell happened between you and Chuck? No one even mentions his name anymore!"

"What did or did not happen is none of your concern."

"Yes it is! I deserve to know why "our Queen" was so stupid as to throw such an amazing man away. Because it was stupid, Blair."

"Oh?" Blair unfolded her arms and turned to walk to her vanity and set her journal down, letting Hazel's insults hang in the air. "All I heard just now is that you want him." Blair traced her fingers over the diary's cover then shrugged her shoulders. "Seeing that he's no concern of mine, please feel free to try."

The martinis were rioting in her stomach, but Blair held strong as she turned and picked up Cece's gift and headed to the doorway. She paused there and turned her head towards Hazel, her voice as cold as ice. "But know if you cross me in your sad attempts, there will be no second chances."

Back downstairs, Blair sent Dorota to ensure that Hazel removed herself from Blair's room before locking it while Blair stole a few minutes away in the guest bathroom to ensure her queenly mask was firmly in place.

Was it Wednesday? Or Thursday? Chuck wasn't entirely sure, just that he had done well this far in staying far away from Blair. But today he saw her as she walked to lunch. She didn't notice him, much to his relief. Yet, all the same, it was like seeing a goddess descend from the heavens; Blair appeared to float rather than walk down the hallway, her minions tottering along behind her. She hadn't even looked at him, yet her presence consumed his entire being. Chuck suddenly registered the incredible weight of these useless emotions bearing down on him and envied how Blair somehow could simply shut unwanted feelings away.

He was so in her thrall, he saw no one else around him and knew not how long he may have stood there, watching her walk to lunch. It may well have been forever because it left him completely vulnerable. He never saw Hazel, that she was heading straight for him, or even that she was the one that had grabbed his arm and was pulling him into the nearby janitor's closet.

It took a moment, Chuck staring at Hazel, before he came back to himself. By then Hazel had pulled out a small flask and was tipping it back for a drink. She gave him a nervous smile and pressed it into his hand. "I think you need this more than I do."

But Chuck stood there, motionless, confused at her friendly nature when he had rebuffed her so many times. The small space, its dim light and ample darkness, comforted him—his familiar shrouds and shadows. The glint in Hazel's eyes wasn't lost on him when he lifted the flask to his lips. The burn followed by the wave of heat from the alcohol, that too was familiar as his comfort turned bitter and it all somehow made him feel even sadder. He passed the flask back to Hazel. "Is there something you need, Hazel?"

"No. Not me." She reached up and smoothed the lapel of his blazer. "I wanted you to know I'm here for you."

Chuck's expression remained unimpressed, as she went on.

"It's not right. You don't have anyone in your corner."

"I have Nate."

She was quick point out, "And Nate has Serena. And Serena has Blair. Can you really depend on that?"

He didn't reply immediately. He didn't want to explain it to her—he didn't need to explain anything to her. He had isolated Blair after the Cotillion scheme. It was only right that he be isolated now; at least he still had Nate, even if it was tenuous.

She took his silence as ceding to her point. "You can relax with me. Anything you want, or don't want, I'm game."

"Hazel," Chuck sighed, "It's not any of your business. Just let me be."

She frowned at him, her shoulders drooping. But then she shoved her body into his and leaned up to press an awkward kiss to his cheek. And then lingered.

The sound of something mechanical kicked on and a pipe overhead shook, spitting droplets of water down making Hazel squeal and flee from the closet.

Chuck looked up and briefly wondered if there was in fact a God and if he didn't particularly like Hazel either.

The late spring sun was buttery and warm as it fell into the Van der Woodsen penthouse. Blair noticed that when Lily wasn't home, it could feel quite nice and peaceful here. And CeCe loved to gossip and make Serena laugh, so this little visit for tea was actually quite pleasant.

"… And that's when I found him with Mrs. Astor!"

Serena gasped, "No!"

"It's true!" CeCe smiled and both she and Blair watched Serena burst into giggles, which made Blair laugh too.

"You girls really do some good for this old lady."

Serena pouted. "You're not old, grandma."

The pretty blonde leaned across the sofa and hugged her grandmother.

Lily clattered into the living room, home from her shopping adventures, and having heard the giggles and now witnessed the sentimental hug, she proclaimed, "You two really are too much."

"Rather too much, than too little, my dear." CeCe neatly skewered her daughter like a Michelin rated chef making shish kebabs.

Lily ignored the comment, as was her forte. "Look what I found on my way in!"

She tugged Nate into the room.

Blair noted from behind her teacup that he looked sheepish.

"Nate! Is it that late already?" Serena blushed, supposing she had lost track of time.

Nate was definitely uncomfortable. "We were early…"

Serena bounced to her feet to rush to Nate's side. "Grandma, this is my boyfriend, Nate Archibald."

"That wouldn't be Anne's boy? I believe I've heard your grandfather, William, bragging about you," CeCe queried.

"Yes, ma'am." Nate wore his sweetest smile for his girlfriend's grandmother.

Blair refreshed her teacup as she asked, "How did you do on the SAT last week?"

"Better this time. I'll feel a little more at ease during your college mixer next week with this score."

"I'm glad." Blair suddenly froze with her teacup at her mouth. Lily was pulling Chuck out of the shadows.

CeCe didn't miss a beat. "Oh, and who is your other friend…?"

Blair by this point had firmly put down her teacup and turned away from the crowd to gaze out the window.

It allowed Chuck to gaze at his ex as he politely replied, "Charles Bass, or Chuck if you like, Mrs. Rhodes. I was simply keeping Nate company before he came to call on Serena."

Everyone except Lily seemed to register the immense tension in the room and that Chuck was trying to telegraph that he wasn't supposed to be here.

"Why don't you four all go have lunch? It's so lovely out today," Lily prodded the young quartet, prompting an eye roll from her mother.

Serena wasn't past trying to salvage the path to mending something of Chuck and Blair's relationship in the mist of her mother's tone-deafness. "What do you say, B? If Chuck doesn't—"

Blair however had reached her limit, the tea and cakes trying to revolt in her stomach, for Chuck's presence only made his betrayal and lying fresh and acute. She stood abruptly and fixed her gaze only on her best friend. "Thank you, S but maybe another time? Mom mentioned she and Cyrus might be flying in this weekend and I should make sure the penthouse isn't a mess." She shook her head for effect when she explained, "I caught Dorota slacking the other day, reading some miserable romance novel."

Before anyone could form a reply, she swiftly exited the room.

Lily, her suggestion rejected, went upstairs to go through her new purchases.

Those remaining paused commenting until the heard the elevator depart.

"Heavens, what was all that about?" CeCe picked up her teacup in search of some gin. Chuck was still looking back, as his eyes had followed Blair to the elevator.

Nate shifted his weight on his feet, uncertain what was okay to say and not say.

Serena shrugged and said, "Well…"

CeCe nodded, as she sat her teacup down. "Ah. Someone needs to apologize."

Chuck snapped to attention. Apologize?

Serena's grandmother chuckled as she watched his reaction. He imagined his expression looked like he'd just been doused in cold water.

"Darling, if you did something stupid and you love her, you have to apologize."

Thinking on the complexity of his situation with Blair, Chuck made a small frown. "How I wish it were something as simple as that to fix."

CeCe smiled at him with genuine care in her eyes. "I never said it'd magically fix things. But in all my years, and several husbands, I can tell you this much. It will never begin to heal if you don't apologize, and it certainly won't heal properly if you don't start from there."

She picked up her teacup once more, shrugging as she continued her thought. "That is, of course, if it is love. Real love, the kind you fight for. The kind 'Dorota' has been supposedly neglecting her work to fantasize about."

Serena giggled at her grandmother's suggestion. Chuck and Serena wouldn't put it past Blair to be the one actually escaping into some fluffy stories where strife and turmoil were guaranteed to lead to a happy ending.

Chuck thanked CeCe and excused himself so Serena and Nate could go on their intended date. After all, he'd been gifted with seeing Blair and having her close for a brief moment. And though CeCe offered some wise insight, his heart was too bruised to hear any of it when all he had wanted to was to escape into that elevator with Blair, to have her back in his arms, loving him.

There was nothing else quite like Victrola on a Saturday night, especially in late spring, the temperature rising, the promise of summer creeping closer. The way the throbbing music melded with the kaleidoscope of colorful lights flickering a moment before being chased away but the shadows. Everything was in excess, too loud, too bright, too much to let Chuck think of anything else. He drank like he had before Blair became his singular pursuit, which allowed him to flow with the crowd, the way they thrummed and surged with the music.

He was able to lose himself, which is all he wanted right now. Bodies pressing, his head buzzing, skin sliding.

Like Ibiza fluttered across his mind, the club lights flashing and melting into the memory of the way Blair's dress had shimmered under those lights and on the beach, in the moonlight.

No one was anyone in the crowd, yet one girl had come to stay at his side as they moved together. The world was all blinking light and shadow but he caught sight of her plaid skirt.

Like the one she wore the night she first let me touch her.

Time slid by, or maybe it didn't? But his hazy mind and aching heart conspired to let Chuck try and pretend it was her.

Like they had in Ibiza, their bodies were pushed to the edge of the crowd. The throbbing feeling was coming less from outside of them, now instead coming from the eager beat of racing hearts. His mouth was hungry when they began kissing. Chuck breathed the darkness and hunger in and felt like his old self again.

His hands moved from her waist to her hair.

She wore a headband.

Nothing else in the world short of the appearance of the real Blair herself could have shaken through all of his distraction the way the feel of that cool silky headband under his fingertips did.

He stepped back. He breathed.

She tried to cling onto him, pressing her body desperately to his.

He opened his eyes and stared into the dark, waiting for the light.

His stomach turned, once.

Then twice.

Hazel.

And that headband.

He glared and quickly tore it off her head, the light glinting off the navy headband again as he did so.

No one knew, or would have noticed, that the silk satin navy bow headband he had gifted Blair at her birthday was custom made. The tail of one of those bows had a small riveted tag. The top side engraved with B. The back with C.

Chuck staggered on his feet, clutching Blair's headband as he tried to push away from Hazel. Somehow he managed to signal to security before he staggered into the men's room to expel the alcohol, his head going from spinning to a throbbing that was louder than the club.

He registered that Hazel was gone, or at least wasn't in the men's room with him. Chuck washed his mouth out in the sink, his eyes never leaving the headband he held in one hand. His mind was more or less useless, the word damnit endlessly repeating on loop.

Chuck struggled first to open the private door that accessed the hallway to his rooms. He made it up the stairs mostly on the energy of his cursing. It was an act of God that he got the key in the lock.

He had managed to set her headband on his nightstand before spending a few lame moments pulled at his clothes before he was again on his knees and at the mercy of his stomach in his bathroom.

His body was heavy with poor choices when he at last fell into bed. A bed he had shared with Blair. His eyes landed on where her headband rested. The memory of Blair's bad night at Victrola surfaced, how the headband had laid there on that night too. Chuck reached out to grasp it in his hands. The idea that Blair gave this away and that's how Hazel had it painfully crossed his mind. But Hazel could have easily have stolen it as well.

The question now was: did he have the courage to find out the answer?

CeCe chiding him resurfaced. If he loved her, he needed to apologize.

Chuck had made dubious choices, perhaps even cowardly choices, when he thought back to how he had come to this moment.

And now it was time to make another hard but equally important choice.

Or not? Like Blair would even deign to see him, or hear his apology.

If he had the courage.

Yet, wasn't Blair happy? She was hardly waiting or wanting for him to admit, again, to his wrong doings, and repent.

The night passed, Chuck going in and out of a restless sleep, wrestling with the fears this day had pulled up and set before him.

#

Blair was draped across her bed in a beautiful navy blue day dress of silk and crepe, lost in the simpler world of a romance novel, when Dorota entered.

"Miss Blair, you have visitor downstairs."

Blair made a small huff at the interruption. "You could have just let them up."

"I think that not such good idea in this case." The maid crossed her arms to emphasize her insistence.

Blair closed her book with a sigh and slid from the bed. She checked her reflection in the mirror, fluffing her soft curls and touching up her lipstick before sliding on matching heels. No one needed to tell her some degree of what was downstairs required the Queen.

She was more than halfway down the staircase before she could see her guest. Blair didn't even freeze before she turned and attempted to return to her room.

But she found Dorota blocking her escape route. Blair glared at her maid and hissed, "Traitor."

Dorota was unmoved. "You cannot run forever. You can do this here, now, or somewhere else when time and place not in your control."

Glaring a moment longer to convey her annoyance, Blair calmly turned and steadily walked down the stairs. Most of the foyer lay between them but Blair felt her stomach flip when her eyes couldn't help but glance at the spot where not so long ago he had…

When he followed her gaze, Blair felt her cheeks turn hot, part of her mind wanting to ask herself why exactly that was. But the Queen slid into control to save Blair from herself. "What unimaginable thing has caused you to be standing here?"

"Dissent in your ranks and, I suspect, a crime against the Queen."

Blair crossed her arms as she watched her ex-boyfriend reach into his suit jacket. When she saw the flash of the cufflinks she had given him oh so many years ago, she hugged herself harder to soothe the pain that had begun to riot in her heart. Cool, she must remain cool, she told herself as she watched her headband appear.

"Where?" she asked, clipped, because she had noticed it wasn't where it should have been. She also couldn't bring herself to search for his gift when the thought of him still hurt so much.

"Hazel. I believe to aid in her seduction of me last night. I suspect she did not comprehend its full meaning when she took it."

"Certainly not. What a grave blunder for her." She knew they were both grasping for something. Did Hazel succeed? But surely that's what he wants her to ask. Blair didn't care. Shouldn't care. Couldn't care.

Chuck stepped towards her, wary of coming too close, and extended the headband out for her to take. The tension was suffocating; Blair could have sworn the air conditioning must be malfunctioning for how hot this room was. She looked at the headband as her fingers curled around it, admitting in that moment how her heart was aching as she saw the small precious silver rivet with their initials. When she had first opened the box last fall, she had put it on so quickly, she hadn't seen this precious touch. Only later, in private, when she admired it and stroked the tails of the bow, did she find the tiny silver secret.

She came to hold it with both hands, to have something to hold onto. The words came from her lips before she had enough sense to stop them. "Is there anything else?"

Chuck lowered his head. "If the Queen might…"

Blair's eyes widened as she watched him sink to both of his knees, head still lowered, his gaze fixed on the floor. She wanted to run over and pull him up, tell him to stop being silly. But that was Blair and Chuck, not whatever tattered thing this was now, held up tenuously with her crown.

"I made excuses. Bitter. Upset. I made choices. Those choices led to a foolish boy demanding that his love meet a standard he couldn't even meet—wholeness and happiness, alone." He shook his head, shifting back to first person. "Because I loved you so intensely, I thought it gave me the right to draw judgment and hand down punishment. All of that, now, simply stands as an excuse, an attempt to reconcile my culpability. To have broken your trust, to have hurt the one I love. I dare not ask forgiveness, but please hear me now."

Blair eyes stung with tears she fought to hold back. Why was she not running away? She didn't want to hear, to feel…any of this. When he lifted his face to hers, her feet still kept rooted to the spot.

His eyes held hers, an unspoken dare. She registered a hoarseness to his voice when he said, "I'm sorry."

They stayed in that moment, a frisson of emotions, she imagined, flowing over them both. Blair allowed herself to remember the years they had together. The friendship. Support. The longing. So much longing. Then the flash of the time they finally had together. Dorota was right—they needed to figure out some way to coexist. They shared best friends. They went to the same school. The quiet threat of danger, the longing, for his touch, his mouth, was whispered behind all of these thoughts.

Silence stretched out and finally, Chuck dropped his eyes, the soft words of "My Queen" reaching her ears before he stood and turned to leave.

Panic ran hot through Blair. "Chuck. Wait."

xoxo