Chapter 14 – Embrace

A/N: First and foremost, thank you all for the reviews from last chapter. Sometimes I really doubt my writing - I am a bit of a perfectionist. Glad some of y'all like my writing. Secondly, this chapter is not M, per se. But it does get steamy, so you've been warned. Thirdly, I hope you're all staying safe. I'm still working and waiting to get the Coronavirus. Being essential is just the best. ANYWAYS, enjoy!

The pair settled into a comfortable routine over the next few weeks. Blair, ever an early riser, set an alarm every morning for 6:30 AM, much to the chagrin of Chuck, who was notorious in his hatred for mornings. She would order in breakfast for them every morning: toast, bacon, and eggs for him and a low-fat yogurt parfait for her, along with occasional bites of his scrambled eggs he urged her to eat, pretending he was simply too full to take another bite. At her insistence, Chuck went into Bass Industries three days a week, leaving Blair alone to do as she pleased: the occasional shopping or spa trip with Serena, or lazily reading fashion magazines, spread across the comforter of the bed she now considered theirs, and the friendly phone calls with Nate, who insisted he was merely checking up on her - though she was sure Chuck had something to do with that part of her day.

At night, he'd return home with dinner or they'd order room service while chatting easily about their respective days. After dinner, they would watch a movie or read together, Blair's head on his shoulder, or his head in her lap if his day had been particularly bad. Later on, they would curl up together under the cool silk sheets of their bed, Chuck in one of his silk pajama sets, Blair in one of Chuck's shirts, or a t-shirt – Chuck had a surprising number of Columbia t-shirts, she had discovered – and a pair of his boxers.

It was comfortable. It was easy. They were happy, and Blair could feel herself starting to let her guard down.

It was a Wednesday morning and Chuck had just left work, slightly breathless from the goodbye kiss she had just given him, more forceful that usual. Maybe tonight would be the night? It had only been a few minutes after he had left that she heard a sharp knock at the door, and she smiled as she opened the door to find a magnificent bouquet of peonies left on the doorstep. Oh, yes, tonight would be the night.

She scooped the flowers up and made her way into the kitchen, intent on finding a vase to put the peonies. Unable to locate one – Of course Chuck Bass doesn't own a vase – she settled for an unused decanter she found in the top cabinet, dusty and abandoned. She filled the decanter with water and began to arrange the flowers expertly, in precisely the way she liked until something sliced across her index finger, causing her to jerk her hand away in shock. There was a small dribble of blood in the small cut of her finger - a papercut. Frowning, she wiped the bit of blood away before reaching back into the bouquet to retrieve the offending card.

All my love.

-L

A small gasp escaped her, and she dropped the card to the floor. No, no, no.

Without a second thought, she threw the flowers into the trash. Shaking, she leaned back against the counter and gripped the edge to steady herself, her knuckles white. She closed her eyes and breathed in, breathed out. It didn't help. Her eyes flashed open and she felt the ground lurch beneath her feet. Call Chuck right now, her brain screamed to her. She couldn't do it, though. He had already sacrificed too much for her.

Using all her strength, she forced herself away from the counter and stumbled toward the bedroom, her world spinning. It was a struggle, but eventually she found herself in their room, their bed. She slid under the covers, and rolled onto Chuck's side, grateful for the lingering scent of him on the pillow. Blair wrapped the covers around herself tightly, in a protective cocoon and closed her eyes, praying that the world would stop spinning soon.

Xoxo.

He was impatient to get home. This morning, when she kissed him…It was different. It was loving, as always. But there was passion, fire, want. He wondered if tonight would be the night Blair would finally let her guard down and let them actually be. Chuck wanted her so badly it ached throughout his whole body, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He was being patient - he would wait.

Nevertheless, he was ready to be back home, back with her, in any way she would let him. He was surprised, however, when he entered the penthouse and was met with darkness, save for the light above the stove in the kitchen.

Furrowing his brow, he removed his coat and hung it in the closet before he made his way to their bedroom, where he saw a mass of covers over her petite form, which was pressed into his side of the bed. It was only 7 PM, and he immediately became concerned. After removing his shoes, he lifted the covers and slid in next to her, pulling her close. She was wearing the same set of pajamas as that morning, and that unnerved him. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

Blair didn't answer. She simply turned to face Chuck, and buried her face in his warm chest. He knew something was wrong. He held quietly for a few minutes before speaking again, "Tell me what's wrong, Baby."

"Nothing's wrong, Bass," she replied, her voice muffled by his chest.

"Liar."

"Panic attack," she whispered, relenting.

"Why?"

"You know they sometimes just happen, Chuck," she said, her voice weak and trembling.

Yes. They sometimes did just happen. Chuck had seen it with his own eyes: Blair Waldorf, cold and confident, ruler of Constance and all those who mattered in the Upper East Side. Then suddenly, her skin was clammy, she was trembling so hard she couldn't even sign her own name on a check, and stumbling without a single drink.

This wasn't one of those times.

"Don't lie to me,"

"I'm not lying," she insisted.

He knew she was lying. But he pulled her to closer to him, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade. "I don't believe you, Blair. At all."

"I'm not lying," she whispered.

She fell asleep in his arms within minutes, while he gazed at her with concern before sleep found him hours later.

Chuck woke up at 7:30 AM the next morning, the early morning sun streamed through the large picture windows, brightening the room slightly. It was still too early for him, but it was late for Blair.

"Waldorf," he murmured against her ear, "Thought you were my alarm clock these days."

"Must not have set mine," she mumbled back, eyes still closed.

"Leave breakfast to me, Waldorf," he replied, pulling away from her slightly to reach the phone on the bedside table. As he moved away, she clung to him, unwilling to let go.

"I'm not going anywhere today. I'm all yours," he said, shooting her a smile.

You're worrying me.

"Pancakes or French toast, Waldorf?" he asked, holding his hand over the speaker.

"Yogurt parfait. Non-fat."

"Wasn't an option. Pancakes or French toast?"

"French toast, I guess."

As pile of fluffy French toast, steaming eggs, and fresh, crispy bacon arrived in his suit, Chuck decided not to bring up the night before. Instead, he watched her intently, trying to gauge her mood as she cut the French toast into small bites, pushing them around in the syrup before abandoning them. "Eat it, Blair. You aren't fooling me," he said as he watched her repeat the pattern for the fifth time in a row.

Her fork hovered for a minute before she reluctantly stabbed a piece of the toast and popped it into her mouth delicately, chewing forcefully. "Happy?" she asked, after she had swallowed.

"Don't fight me on this, Blair. Just eat, please."

She paused after the word 'please.' Chuck Bass did not say please, ever. Relenting, she ate a whole piece of French toast before pushing it away. "I'm full," she stated.

Chuck pushed his plate towards her, where a small amount of scrambled eggs remained. "Humor me and take a couple of bites, ok? You need some protein."

Blair glared at him before taking a few bites of egg. "I'm full, Chuck," she said again.

He nodded, satisfied.

"I'm sorry for worrying you last night," she said, pushing the plate away and looking away from him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I already told you; I just had a panic attack," she replied, still not meeting his gaze.

"I'm not going to push you. But I know you're lying to me. And I wish you'd stop," he said simply.

"Chuck, I –"

"Don't lie to me," he interrupted.

Just fucking trust me.

Blair remained quiet and shoved a large bite of scrambled egg into her mouth.

A bouquet arrived every Wednesday morning without fail, and she always promptly dumped them in the trash. She didn't want Chuck to know.

She didn't want him to worry.

But then she began to see the bags beneath underneath his eyes, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, and when she held him in her arms, he seemed smaller, like he had lost weight.

This has to stop.

So why wasn't it stopping?

On one of those Wednesday mornings, he kissed her forehead goodbye in lieu of her lips, and she suddenly felt cold, empty. "I love you," she whispered, slightly desperate, as she watched him walk away from her, his head down and shoulders slightly slumped.

Not even an hour later, a bouquet of hyacinths arrived at the door.

Miss you.

-L

She slumped against the wall and stared at the flowers. This time, she wouldn't throw them away.

Xoxo.

Chuck knew that she was pushing him away. Whether it was consciously or unconsciously, he felt the distance growing between them. Everything was the same outwardly, but he knew that Blair was keeping something from him. Her smile was too tight, her skin too pale, and she was jumpy - her eyes flashing from wall to wall, as if she was prey waiting to be pounced on by its predator. The only time the distance between them seemed to no longer exist was at night, when all the lights had been extinguished and they laid next to each other, her head resting easily in the crook of his shoulder.

He had told her and himself that he wouldn't push, that she would tell him when she was ready. But it had been weeks, and Chuck would be lying to himself if he told himself it wasn't getting harder to be around her, to live with her. He loved her – but he didn't like that she was lying to him. He didn't like the lack of trust on her part. Just tell me what's going on, Blair! He wanted to scream at her. Just fucking trust me!

Chuck felt like all he did was worry about Blair, every minute of every day. He would wake from an uneasy sleep - if he had gotten any sleep at all - to check that she was still breathing. At work, in board meetings, he wondered if she was all right. When he ate lunch, he hoped silently that she would eat without his insistence today. At night, he watched as she fell asleep comfortably on his shoulder, the way they always slept, and he would feel a bit better, relishing in the smell of her hair spread in waves across his chest, her easy breaths softly tickling his neck. A day spent worrying made for a restless sleep for Chuck, who stayed constantly in the between state of asleep and awake at night.

He didn't know if Blair was even aware of the distance growing between them, so that morning when he left for work, he kissed her on the cheek instead on the lips, hoping she would realize that there was something changing between them, something that only she had the power to stop. Chuck hadn't stopped to see the look on her face, because he knew it would be too hard to see –he had already felt extremely guilty. He felt even more guilt when Nate had called him that afternoon, wondering if Chuck would maybe have a drink with him after work? Chuck agreed, partially because he hadn't seen his best friend in weeks, but also because he needed Blair to feel the same crevasse in their relationship that he felt.

Making his way to the bar at The Oak Room, he found Nate already waiting for him, nursing the scotch in front of him slowly. Chuck took the seat beside him and immediately signaled the bartender. "Nathaniel," he greeted his best friend.

"Hey, man!" Nate turned to him with a lazy smile. "Glad you came. I was beginning to wonder if Blair had you on lockdown."

Chuck forced himself to chuckle. "No, Nathaniel. Things have just been a bit hectic."

"Tell me about it. School's been kicking my ass lately, and Grandfather is really breathing down my neck about law school," Nate replied with a grimace.

"Law school, huh?"

Nate sighed. "Yeah, man. You know how the Vanderbilt side of the family is. All about politics. I mean, could you see me being a governor? Or a member of Congress?"

"If I'm completely honest with you, Nathaniel, absolutely not. I probably wouldn't even vote for you," Chuck replied with a smirk.

"Chuck, you don't even vote," Nate replied.

"I'd make an exception, then."

Nate chuckled. "So, what's going on with Blair. And you and Blair. Serena told me she moved in with you. I feel kind of in the dark over here, man."

"Sorry, Nathaniel. It was kind of a split-second decision on my part. Blair is…I honestly don't know how Blair is," Chuck responded, shocked at himself as the words left his mouth.

Nate furrowed his brow and took a long swig of his scotch, before setting it back down on the bar and sliding it forward, indicating the bartender that he needed a refill. "What do you mean you don't know how Blair is?"

Chuck shook his head and took a gulp of his own drink. "Everything was fine. I thought…I thought we were finally getting to the place we needed to be…" Chuck paused. "She's hiding something from me, Nate."

"I know it's bad when you call me Nate," he replied quietly, taking the fresh drink the bartender had just poured for him in his hands. "Do you know what?"

"Not the slightest idea," Chuck replied sullenly.

"Your PI?"

"Not a chance, Nathaniel. I'm not Bart," he spat. "She's got this crazed look in her eyes all the time, like she's waiting for someone to jump out at her from the shadows. She says she fine, but we both know she's lying. I'm basically forcing her to eat. I'm at a loss, Nathaniel. It's gotten hard." The words poured out him before he could even think about what he was saying. He just knew he had to tell someone.

"Wow, Chuck," Nate replied, his eyes wide as he stared at his best friend.

"What?" Chuck seethed back.

"Nothing. I just…I've never heard such a long sentence from you before You have feelings."

"If you're not going to be helpful you don't have to mock me, Nathaniel," Chuck muttered.

"Nah, man. I'm just…surprised. Impressed, I guess," Nate replied.

They sat in silence for a long time, both drinking heavily in the dark bar.

"I don't think I can lose her again," Chuck said softly, finally breaking their silence. "And I feel like I am right now."

"So tell her, man. This is what you guys do every time! You dance around your issues and you tell other people, but never each other."

Chuck took a long drink of scotch and felt it rush to his head. He was definitely drunk. "You're actually right for once, Nathaniel. I have to go," he said throwing a wad of bills onto the bar.

He said he wouldn't push – but maybe he had to.

The limo ride was dizzying – clearly, he had drank too much, too quickly while he had been with Nate. The bright lights of the lobby of The Empire were almost blinding, as he felt himself stagger onto the elevator and down the hall, finally reaching his suite, where he struggled with the keycard.

He was unable to insert the keycard correctly before the door swung open, revealing a stricken Blair. "Where have you been, Chuck?" she asked quietly. "I was worried."

"Went out after work," he mumbled.

"Well, you could've told me!"

"And you could tell me what the fuck you're hiding, Blair," he seethed.

Oh, no. This was not how it was supposed to go.

Blair wrapped her arms around herself, as if she was protecting herself. "Were you with someone?" she asked quietly.

He stepped closer to her and put his hands on her upper arms, holding her steady. "I was with Nathaniel, Blair."

"You're drunk."

"Yes, because I was getting drunk with Nathaniel. Why don't you trust me?" he asked. His voice sounded weak, pitiful, and he hated himself for it.

"I do trust you," she replied softly.

"No, no! You don't trust me. You're lying to me about something. You're hiding something. You think I'm out sleeping with other women. Jesus, Blair. You don't trust me. Just say it!" he cried.

"I do trust you!" she repeated, her eyes welling with tears as she spoke.

"Then talk to me, Waldorf," he pleaded. "Because I don't think I lose you again."

Blair saw the desperate look in his eye and relenting. "Ok, we'll talk." Taking his hand and twining his fingers with her own, she led him to the couch. "Sit," she commanded, "I'm going to get you a glass of water. It's been a long time since I've seen you actually stumble, Bass."

Chuck obeyed her and seated himself on the couch, leaning back into the pillows and closing his eyes. The world was spinning slightly behind his eyelids. She was right – he was drunk. "Fuck," he murmured to himself.

"Here, Bass," Blair said, walking back into the room and pushing a chilled glass of water into his hands, which he downed in one, prolonged gulp. After a moment of pause, Blair cleared her throat. "Every Wednesday for the past six weeks, he's been sending me flowers," she said quietly, quickly.

"What?" he asked slowly.

"Every Wednesday after you leave for work, I get flowers."

"From who? What do you – Oh…" he trailed off as he realized what she was saying. "What the fuck, Blair? How could you keep that from me?" he exclaimed, rising from his seat on the couch, suddenly feeling stone-cold sober.

"I didn't want you to worry." She bit her lip and looked up to him, realizing just how poor of an excuse she was giving him.

"All I do is worry about you, Waldorf," he replied softly.

"I'm sorry, Chuck," she murmured. "I—I should have told you. I just—"

Chuck began to pace in front of her. "Is that all? Just the flowers? Or has he contacted you?"

"Just the flowers, Chuck."

He pinched his brow between his thumb and forefinger. "Goddammit," he muttered, to no one in particular.

"Chuck?" Blair whispered.

Releasing a deep sigh, he walked back over to her and knelt in front of her. "Look at me," he said softly.

Her eyes met his after a moment. "I'm sorry, Chuck," she murmured.

"Stop. Don't. I don't want you to apologize, I don't want you to be sorry. Just don't hide things like this from me. I can't protect you if I don't know what's going on," he replied.

"And here I was thinking you were having my every move followed by your PI," she said, choking out a laugh.

Chuck shook his head. "You told me that I wasn't my father. That's something he would do. Not me. I'm not going to have you followed without your knowledge, Blair," he replied seriously.

"Oh, but you'd have me followed as long as I know about it?" she responded acidly.

"Goddammit, Blair. If I feared for your safety, absolutely. Stop trying to pick a fight with me," he growled.

"I'm sorry," she murmured once more.

"Stop," he repeated. "I don't know what his game is yet, but I intend to find out. But you have to know that this is what he wants. He doesn't want you to tell me, he wants you on your own. He wants us apart."

Blair froze. "I hadn't thought about it like that," she murmured.

"You know I'm right, Waldorf," he replied, with a weak smirk. "Even he knows we're unstoppable together."

"Chuck?" she asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"What are we? Are you even my boyfriend?"

"I'm whatever you want me to be, Waldorf. If you want me to be your boyfriend, then yes," he replied with a small smile.

"That is what I want," she replied softly.

"Then I'm your boyfriend. But that does come with stipulations," he replied, unable to keep the smile from his face.

"Like what?" Her voice was quiet, and she bit her lip in anticipation.

"I don't expect you to tell me everything. But if it scares you, if it gives you a fucking panic attack, Blair, you tell me, goddammit," he replied darkly.

"Stop cursing so much, Chuck."

He tucked a curl behind her ear with a small smile. "I'll do my best for you, Waldorf. And if it involves Louis in anyway, you tell me. End of story."

"Love me?" she asked apprehensively.

"More than anything," he replied easily, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

Much to his surprise, she deepened the kiss, her tongue running across his bottom lip, looking for entry. His mouth opened, and her tongue was teasing his. Soft, gentle, with a taste that was indescribably Blair – mint, macarons, and rosé, maybe?

She kissed him harder and he felt his resolve weaken. "Stop," he murmured against her lips, "before I can't."

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked quietly.

"No. I want you," he groaned.

"Then I don't want to stop."

He pulled away from her in surprise. "Blair? Are you ready for that?"

"As I'll ever be," she said quietly.

"I love you," he murmured, kissing her the pulse point at her neck, making her shudder.

"I love you, too," she breathed as he swirled his tongue across her neck.

"You sure?" he asked quietly.

She pulled away and smiled at him, taking his hand and pulling him up from the floor, and leading him into their bedroom, where she slipped the top layer of his suit off as she continued to kiss him.

"Your hands are shaking," he pointed out.

"Chuck, just shut up and kiss me," she demanded.

Kissing her again, he knew he was past the point of no return, fumbling with the zipper at the back of her dress, dragging the pad of his thumb down her spine as he pulled the zipper down, causing her to shiver. When her dress dropped down to the floor and she was left only in a flimsy black slip, he stepped back to look at her. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," her murmured, once again seeking her lips.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into her, slowly leading him towards their bed. Reaching it she sat, never breaking their mouths apart, forcing him to lean down. He obliged and forced her to lay back, his body hovering over hers.

"You still ok, baby?" he murmured, pressing a trail of soft kisses down her neck.

"Yes," she breathed. As Chuck continued touching her, caressing her, planting soft kisses any and everywhere, she wondered why she had been so nervous for their reunion in the first place. Where Louis' touch had been harsh, greedy, Chuck's touch was gentle, altruistic. Where Louis had ravished her every time they had coupled, Chuck always knew what she needed, and right now he was worshipping her. Louis had always been selfish, mostly leaving her unsatisfied. But as she felt the tugging in her lower belly, and she saw the stars bursting in her eyes as her limbs shook erratically, she realized there had been reason to ever be afraid of being with Chuck. A final groan, and Chuck collapsed on top of her.

After a moment, he exhaled and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was snuggled up against his chest. Their sweaty bodies laid like that as they felt their breathing return to normal. Chuck kissed Blair's forehead, enjoying the slightly salty taste of the sweat beaded there. "Are you ok?" he asked, once he finally had his wits about him once more.

Blair snuggled into his body further, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I'm ok, Chuck, I promise," she murmured sleepily.

Chuck draped his arm against her naked waist, reveling in the feeling of the soft flesh of her body beneath his fingers once more. He smiled as he lazily rubbed meaningless patterns in her waist, until he heard her breathing becoming deep and even. He shifted gently to look down at her, and sure enough she was asleep – her eyes squeezed tightly, a tiny fist rested against his chest, and a small smile across her face. "I love you, Waldorf," he said quietly, before closing his own eyes and allowing a dreamless, restless sleep find him at long last.

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