Thank you so much for the positive feedback on chapter one; I'm so glad you're enjoying this vibe! I simply have to dedicate this chapter to miss B on her birthday weekend. If you haven't read any of her fics (which I highly doubt), go forth and enjoy some wonderful Chair stories by a beautiful writer under the name About150Times. My particular favourites are Come Rescue Me and Love or Loathing, but you probs already know! Happy Birthday to a beautiful queen!

'So let me get this straight. You applied, took all the tests, came to us to interview and were successful, but now you don't want the position anymore? Do you realise how competitive this role is, Blair?'

The young woman addressing her, Matilda, had narrowed her ice-blue eyes and pursed her lips, the serious expression that worried her otherwise pretty features was impenetrable.

Blair had stepped into Matilda's office early that morning, hoping to plead her case to the dark-haired woman who was in many ways a mirror image of herself. It had been easy enough to determine online that Matilda had secured the graduate position three years prior, and had subsequently been so successful that the company had rocketed her into an extraordinarily senior position in less than a year. There was perhaps only one person who had become a part of their management team quicker than Matilda, he was the very same person Blair was seeking so desperately to avoid.

Matilda didn't have an assistant, and Blair was determined to see that fact changed. She was certain it wouldn't take much for two ambitious Ivy graduates to find common ground.

'No, it's not that at all. I'm simply concerned about the existence a minor conflict between my manager and myself.' She shuddered at the word that had been plaguing her for the nights that built up to her first day at work.

How she'd ended up with Charles Bartholomew Bass as her superior was still beyond her wildest understanding, and she just wouldn't allow it to happen.

'Conflict?' The woman really studied her then, examining Blair's countenance and tapping a company-branded pen against her lower lip. 'Is there something we actually need to know, Blair?'

'Yes.' Blair's eyes lit at the first slither of a real opportunity to explain her plight. 'You see, we grew up together and used to be friends. I don't want to go into the gory details, but suffice to say the friendship didn't end well.'

She watched Matilda's expression shift from concerned to aggravated, then she scoffed and it was apparent Blair's chance at escaping him was slipping away very quickly.

'Well, like you said yourself, it's a minor childhood conflict and I'm afraid the contracts are signed already. I just don't need you in my way, Blair.' After her cutting remark, Matilda looked perhaps momentarily sympathetic, but it was again quickly washed away with disinterest. 'I've got too much to do.'

'But-'

'But nothing. You either want the job or you don't, and frankly, Blair, you'll be expected to keep your personal disagreements outside of the office.' Her nose pinched in distaste, it was an expression Blair was very familiar with wearing herself, so she understood it marked her failure entirely. 'I'm sure you'll work just fine with Chuck. You don't have to be friends with your boss. It's generally not advised in any case.'

Blair thinned her lips, fingers digging into her purse. She wouldn't work just fine with him, but it seemed Matilda was not a viable option in aiding her escape.

'Can I assume you'll be putting your pride aside and doing your job?'

Blair's teeth marred the inside of her cheek and she nodded despite the outcry of her subconscious. Walking out now would put a black mark beside her name; they had her in a position that made her no better than a helpless bull to red silk.

Matilda didn't look up at her again as she exited the room, but Blair heard her snide mutter as clear as day.

'Spoilt brat.'

Perhaps, upon hearing the panels falter in their frames, she'd admit she'd closed the door to the glass-walled office Matilda presided over a little too harshly. Blair stalked away quickly, without a moment's glance back.

Her quick feet felt like deadweight soon enough though, as she dragged herself closer towards the first office she'd been pointed to upon her arrival.

The space was empty for now, but the tell-tale signs of his presence were already there. A light-coloured coat was draped over the seat of one of two desks that occupied the space they'd share. He'd chosen the slightly larger of the two, of course, a fine, leather briefcase staking his claim at its wooden foot. Curiosity getting the better of her, Blair moved closer, until she was positioned behind his empty chair. There wasn't much in the way of personal items to mark his territory, but for one small pair of photographs in halves of a shared, golden frame.

One image showed Chuck, his father and Lily on the latter pair's wedding day. She smirked at the foggy memory. It was the last time she'd seen him in the flesh before college. He'd come, he'd drunk more than his fair share of champagne, spoken only to his immediate family, delivered a speech on true love -like he knew what that was- which had served to entirely wind Blair, then vanished again. The memory was a bittersweet one, once again dampened by her guilt over having kept to herself on the miserable day of Bart's funeral.

But it was the second image that really caught her attention. She recognised that one too. It was a photograph of Chuck and Nate, one she knew there was a missing counterpart to, a counterpart that had evidently been cut away. She gawked at the half-photo and wondered if he'd found some twisted joy taking a pair of scissors to the segment that she'd once stood in, where Nate's arm should have been slung lazily around her waist.

'It's impolite to snoop on your boss, Blair.' She registered the sound of Chuck's gruff voice.

Some part of her knew she should have stepped away and denied ever having looked at the things on his desk, but she couldn't, still shaken by his harsh removal of her from the picture.

'Perhaps I'm gathering evidence.' She murmured; her eyes were still glued to the photo. 'Should I be concerned I'm going to find the other half of this with the eyes poked out?'

'Do you suggest I should display a photograph of my best friend's ex-girlfriend then?' She heard the sneer in his tone and couldn't help but laugh, meeting his eyes at last. His expression was cool but calculated. She hadn't missed the fact he remarked on Nate and Blair as exes- always watching and knowing.

'Best friend? Don't you think that's a bit rich? You haven't seen Nate in years.'

Chuck rolled his eyes pointedly. 'Let's get one thing clear, shall we? I'm not here to ruminate over our tedious history, Blair.' He cleared his throat. 'So, if you don't mind?' He gestured to the empty desk that would belong to her.

Blair couldn't help the smirk that painted her lips as she moved towards her desk. If one thing was clear to her now, Chuck, who was painfully aware of her relationship status regarding Nate, was not nearly so cool, disconnected and aloof as he seemed to want to paint himself.

'He talked about you a lot, you know.'

'Blair.' Her name was a sharp warning from his lips.

'It didn't have to be that way.'

He didn't respond, but for the heavy scrape of his chair against the marble floor. She bit her lip to keep from smirking again as she pulled her own out and settled into it.

Chuck sighed. 'What do you think you're doing?'

'What?' Blair asked in earnest.

He eyed her chair. 'Assistants are responsible for coffee.'

'You've got to be kidding me.' She laughed easily.

'Do I look like I'm kidding?' He said, grinning with the same devilish quality she'd both hated and loved in him for all the years they'd known each other.

'Chuck, I'm here to learn and work, not run around getting you coffees as you work out some peurile grudge.'

'Me hold a grudge? Don't think Matilda didn't just inform me that you begged her to switch to her management. Was that supposed to be a display of your professed maturity?' He barked a mocking laugh and glared at her.

'Don't you think this is exactly why I didn't want to work for you? You won't be able to stay fair, this is clearly just a game to you.'

'Come on, Blair. You wouldn't want to get on your boss' bad side on your first day now, would you? I don't think that would reflect very well on your potential future here.' He let his words sink in for a moment as she shook her head in stunned silence. 'I'll take mine with cream and-'

'One sugar.' She spat, shoving her chair back away from the desk.

'Oh, and I covered your tab from bar last week. Let's not fall into a habit of you assuming you can use the company credit card for your private drinking sessions though, shall we?'

Blair's stilettos thundered against the floor as she sought the exit to the now-suffocating office, wishing very much that she'd drained the bar of every drop of alcohol they had in stock, then destroyed the place before leaving him with a much larger bill.

Stirring five, hefty spoons of sugar into his cup, she cursed the very day she'd seen the job posting for her newfound hell. Idly, as she mixed the sweet mess into his cup, Blair hoped that, in their time apart, he'd developed some form of sugar intolerance that would see him never demand coffee of her again, or better yet, drop down dead.

'Here.' She said on her return, putting the cup down perilously close to his hand. He drew away sharply from the forthcoming scalding she was more than tempted to deliver him.

Her gaze was still averted when she heard a low noise that sounded something like retching. She bit her lip to stop herself laughing.

'Well, I guess I can't be too surprised that the little girl who campaigned against the teaching of home economics at Constance grew up to make terrible coffee.' He commented dryly.

She shot him a withering glare and they spent the next hour in stony silence, reading through endless welcome documents and completing quizzes on their respective computers.

It wasn't until she heard his pen clatter to the surface of his shiny desk, followed by a groan, that she realised Chuck seemed to be struggling with the tests they'd been assigned.

'Oh, what's wrong?' Blair looked over at Chuck, mocking him with her soft-spoken sympathy. 'Your inheritance money wasn't good enough to buy you a brain transplant in your absence?'

'You know,' He said, a look of disdain colouring his features. 'I took classes at The Sorbonne.'

She hadn't known that, and it took her aback somewhat. She could hardly picture Chuck swanning around Paris, attending seminars at one of the country's finest educational establishments. It had to have been some kind of ruse.

'I think it's so sweet when universities do those little day classes for the less academically-inclined among us. You know, really doing their part for the community.'

'I'm not sure a year-long course really counts as a little day class now, does it?'

Blair smiled in the way an indulgent parent might at their silly child. 'Whatever it takes to get you through the day, I guess.'

Chuck narrowed his eyes at her then and, checking his watch, excused himself from the room, leaving her behind in some relative peace to complete her tests. It was deliciously quiet without the meticulous tap of his pen, or the sounds of his fingers moving against his keyboard.

When each and every last quiz came back at a perfect pass, Blair reclined in her seat, pleased with her performance. So she rose from the chair after a moment to stand by the window, looking down at her much-missed city. The floor to ceiling glass panes were pristine, making Manhattan sparkle in the early-afternoon sun. Light bounced energetically from the high-rise structures of glass and metal that stretched as far as the eye could see. Blair could hardly believe she'd been away from it so long, or worse, thought her most beloved home a place to avoid.

'Admiring anything in particular?' He spoke. She'd hardly heard him come back into the room, so transfixed by the sight of the city. Some part of her subconscious knew he'd been there a few moments at least, watching her silently.

'Not really. You?' She asked, turning to face him. He lounged casually against the wall, eyes trained on her hotly. Blair cursed herself for finding him so mouth-dryingly handsome.

'Not really.' Chuck matched her offhandedness with ease, but there was a tiny glint in his eye that won him a playful smile.

It was almost alarming to Blair how comfortably she had eased back into the rapport they'd once shared so many years ago. He was indisputably dangerous for her, the sooner she could get herself out of his grasp, the better it would be for them both.

'Actually, I just had a fascinating meeting with the board- gained some excellent insight. It's a shame you couldn't make it really, I don't think they were very impressed by your absence.'

'There was nothing on my calendar.' Blair said stiffly, feeling spurned by having already been excluded by the board in favour of him.

'Ah, that's right.' He smirked, closing his hands together. 'My error then, I hope you'll forgive me.'

She cocked her head to one side. 'Your error?'

Chuck hummed, straightening his body so he stood at his full height. 'I guess I must have forgotten to populate your calendar this morning.' He said very deliberately.

'You forgot what?' Blair almost staggered where she stood.

'You heard me.' He grinned, his expression taunting and feline.

So many thoughts rushed through her head- perhaps she'd launch herself at him, tiny fists flying wildly. Perhaps she'd slip away and report his behaviour to human resources and have the leering creature rooted out. In the end, she couldn't bring herself to do either.

'So you're really going to do this then? You're really going to pick my career apart just for some light entertainment?'

'I don't think it's fair to say that. It will be much more than light entertainment to watch you learn you can't just take anything you want.'

'This isn't a joke to me, Bass! You can't ruin this for me over some ancient grievance just because I didn't choose you over my boyfriend all those years ago.'

'It's not a joke to me either.' He retorted sharply, hands flexing at his rigid sides. He ignored the latter part of her accusation, but his bodily response had made it all too clear he'd felt it. If Blair had really known then that he'd wanted her to choose him, if he'd stayed, it might have meant a different future for them. But it was useless to consider the ifs and coulds now, when they were five years older, five years separated and with a wealth of resentment standing between them.

'It seems like that's exactly what it is.' She countered. 'Is that what this is going to come to then? Tit for tat until one of us destroys the other and wins? I'm too old for your games now.'

'You talk of winning like we're not posted up in my office right now, assistant.' His emphasising of her position beneath him drove home the sentiment, but she'd not let him see how much it had hurt her.

'I can't believe we ever used to be friends.'

'We didn't.'

'Now you're just lying to yourself.' Blair chuckled, though the sound was somewhat sadder than she'd intended it to be. 'We were friends once. You were more of a friend to me than anyone sometimes.

'It's not a friendship if only one person is there for the other.' Chuck ground the words out, refusing to look at her.

She wondered if he'd ever forgive her for having left him on his own when he'd lost his father. She wasn't sure she'd ever forgive herself. Nate had been utterly useless, Serena too attached to her mother's side. He'd buried his father alone, with no one making it their priority to support and comfort him.

'Where did it all go so wrong, Bass?'

'I think you know the answer to that.'

Blair sighed and returned to her desk, sinking into the seat she'd once pictured herself in so proudly.

'Fine.' She relented. 'You want me to get your coffee? I'll do it. You want me to do your copying and pick up your lunch? I'll do it. You've won, you get to take me down a peg, have your fun and have me work for you. But please, Chuck, don't hurt my chances here on purpose.'

'Blair that's not-' He sighed, unwilling, it seemed, to finish his thought. Instead, he just moved over to his own desk and sat down, resigning himself as she had to the remainder of their onboarding tasks.

From time to time, she'd felt his eyes on her- she knew it even though she didn't look back, it was a feeling nothing else could match. She'd even seen him open his mouth to speak, then close it again from the corner of her eye. She'd never stop wondering what it was he wanted to say, but wouldn't dare ask him.

It was a buzz about the office, after some painfully tense hours, that seemed to indicate the arrival of lunchtime. Blair wondered how long it would be before he began demanding she bring him a meal, but was surprised when he instead stood and tucked his chair neatly behind his desk, looking over at her expectantly.

'Well?'

'Well, what?'

Chuck sighed. 'You need to keep up to date with your calendar, Blair.'

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she opened her onscreen diary. A lunch had appeared, requiring the attendance of she, Chuck and, if her research was right, the company's CFO, Mark Keane.

'What's this?'

'An interview for the job of CFO.' He grumbled. 'What do you think? It's an olive branch. Just get your coat before I change my mind. You still like Gramercy Tavern I take it?'

Blair's head lifted at his words, then she snatched for her bag and coat without any further hesitation, slipping out of the door he held open for her and towards the elevator. She wasn't precisely sure what had brought on his gesture of goodwill, but she'd be damned if she'd let it slip through her fingers.

'Is Mr. Keane meeting us there?' Blair pondered aloud as Chuck pushed the necessary buttons to begin their descent to the ground floor of the building.

He hummed some semblance of an agreement. 'He's on that side of the city now meeting clients. My limo is parked downstairs, we'll take that over to the restaurant.'

Blair was glad in that moment that Chuck had his back to her, for had he not, he might have seen her eyes widen at the memory of the last time she stepped foot in his limo. The air in the elevator seemed to thin, and she held her breath until they stepped onto the street. She was disgruntled by how remarkably just a moment of kindness from him had impacted her so strongly.

Blair noticed the slight widening of Arthur's eyes as Chuck approached his vehicle, company the driver had clearly been led to understand would never make an appearance in his life again following closely behind. But she held steadfast, offering the man a tight smile when he greeted her with an open door. Blair slipped inside the car, hands resting awkwardly in her lap while she waited for Chuck to join her.

Chuck settled himself beside her on the bench, but left ample distance between them. She was grateful to the space for the opportunity it granted her to really breathe at last, but it soon vanished again when the door closed and they were left together in the small, dark space, their breathing and the muffled sounds of the city the only things either one could hear.

'Thanks for setting this up, Chuck.' Blair spoke the second the car started rolling. She could hear the words coming out quicker than she'd meant them to, but could only hope he wasn't as in tune with her behaviours as he once was, and the speed of her ramblings wouldn't strike him as odd. 'I really appreciate it. I meant what I said, about this meaning a lot to me. It's just I'm so serious about my career now that-'

'Blair.' He stopped her mid-stream in an almost snappish tone. 'you're talking a million miles an hour. Relax, it's just a lunch. You're not indebted to me.'

She nodded and folded her hands back in her lap, keeping silent until they pulled up outside the restaurant.

Inside, they were seated across from one another, avoiding eye contact as they waited for their company to arrive. Blair, for her part, couldn't help but let her mind drift to the past.

They'd had one real dinner date in their lives. She had insisted Chuck have Arthur take them all the way down to Philadelphia- not wishing any prying eyes or whispering mouths to catch them in their secret romance.

It had taken precisely six minutes for them to start pawing one another in the back of his limousine, and thereafter precisely six minutes was spent by Blair, berating him for ruining her hair and makeup. In the restaurant, they'd bickered over his wine selection, mostly ignored one another over dinner, then spoon-fed each other a rather unconventional kind of dessert in their transport home. It was their first and only date, a disaster and a delight. It had more or less summed up their doomed relationship, but neither one of them would admit have admitted it then.

With all this in mind, Blair eyed her company carefully as he looked down dutifully at the menu before him. She'd always admired the length and thickness of his dark eyelashes, and been rather envious of them at times in truth. This older, more mature version of the boy she'd known before was so different, but so much the same.

'Are you going to get the duck?'

'I wasn't planning to.'

'I think you'd like it- it's honeyed.' He commented nonchalantly, eyes still glued to the menu.

She almost snorted at his comment, now positive he could only have been thinking about the time she'd requested warm honey from a rather stunned and scandalised doorman at The Palace. Blair allowed the memory to go on a little longer than she perhaps ought to have, silently scolding herself for being reminded of their more intimate relationship so eagerly.

'Perhaps I will then.' She mused, not bothering to look at the offerings again. She had to hand it to him- he was one of those in life who always knew exactly what to choose from a restaurant menu. They'd argued intensely over the matter on their first dinner date, when she'd hated her dish and made him swap plates.

'Chuck Bass!' A friendly hand came down on Chuck's shoulder and he looked up at the older man who had joined them at last.

'Mark.' He greeted the man easily, with a familiarity Blair couldn't help but narrow her eyes at somewhat. 'Meet Blair.' He gestured over to her.

'Mr. Keane.' She said, eyelashes fluttering and hand stuck out. 'A pleasure to meet you.'

'Likewise, Blair, and please call me Mark.' After shaking her outstretched hand, the man sat down beside her and scanned the menu. 'Chuck tells me you're the latest addition to our company alongside him. Delighted to have you both aboard. Anybody who knew Bart Bass for even the briefest of moments is a sound asset to us in my book!'

Blair looked briefly at Chuck, sending him a soft half-smile. She didn't miss the slight roll of his eyes at the mention of his father.

'Any ideas on what's good here?' Mark asked, flipping through the pages of the leather-bound menu.

'Chuck has suggested the duck, we're both honey enthusiasts.' Blair offered with a knowing glance over at him- Mark might not have heard his quiet chuckle, but Blair didn't miss it.

The group ordered their meals and shared light conversation over a bottle of Chablis that Mark made them promise not to mention ordering to the rest of the board. Blair was entirely positive she had charmed the man, that he was putty in her hands, until his phone began buzzing. It pulled him away from the table with a silent-mouthed apology.

'I hope it's nothing too serious.' She offered, breaking the silence between them. Blair was determined not to allow their interactions to grow awkward.

He hummed in agreement, seeming determined to keep his eyes trained on anything but Blair whilst they were alone together. Perhaps the honey comment had been too much for his delicate sensibilities, she thought.

For her part though, she wouldn't look away, marvelling over the apparent tension he was evidently feeling in her lone presence. Blair opened her mouth to comment on the predicament he seemed to find himself in, but Mark reappeared at the table, putting a stop to her thought process.

'Apologies, there seems to be an issue with the budget that demands my immediate attention. Can we do lunch together another time?'

Blair sighed, disappointed to have their time cut short, in large part because it meant she would have to return to the more tense and strange environment of their shared office, where this slight kinship between them did not seem so readily available. 'Of course. I'm sure we can cancel our order.' She began rising from her chair.

'No need, you should stay and enjoy the food.' Mark insisted. 'You have the company card right, Bass?'

Chuck chortled and nodded.

It would have been strange to Mark, Blair realised, if either one of them insisted on abandoning the lunch, it would have certainly raised a red flag in regard to their relationship, or non-relationship. So, perhaps more gleefully than she'd admit, she lowered back onto her seat slowly and nodded.

'I'll see you at the office.' Mark said, phone already pressed against his ear again.

'Well, that was short lived.' Blair commented.

'Sorry. We can leave if you want.'

'No.' She protested a little too quickly, earning her a curious gaze from Chuck. 'It's just we've already ordered, and it's been years since I ate here.'

Chuck's expression relaxed and he looked at her properly. 'Keen to quality check their honey?'

She could feel her cheeks flush at the confirmation he had indeed been thinking on their syrupy tryst.

He didn't offer her much more than that, though, eating largely in silence and commenting only on the quality of the meal they shared.

It wasn't until he'd excused himself, and Blair had taken the opportunity of his absence to cover their bill, not wishing him to hold yet another check over her head, that he spoke to her properly again.

'I'll get the check.' Chuck said, sitting back down as their plates were cleared.

'Oh, I paid whilst you were away.' Blair admitted.

Something truly inexplicable, that looked a lot like tenderness passed over his features. 'You shouldn't pay, not with me.' He said, eyes moving quickly to the door.

She watched him shift uncomfortably and wondered at his statement. To anybody else it might have seemed the simple frustration of a young billionaire beaten to the bill he was accustomed to picking up first. Directed at her, though, it was a more complex response, more personal.

'Why? Because you're my superior?' Blair offered coyly.

He kissed his teeth, still avoiding her gaze. 'If you know what's good for you, you'll stop now and expense that receipt the second you get back to the office.'

'And if I don't?' She knew she was playing with fire by flirting with him, but after several boring years of Nate, Blair couldn't help but lean into her past, but evidently not weakened, attraction to him, just a little.

'Then you can take a yellow cab back to the office.'

Well and truly beaten by the threat of dusty, unsanitary seats, Blair rose from the chair she'd been occupying and moved towards the door. She knew he was close behind and couldn't help but wonder if his eyes hungrily watched her move like they'd always used to.

Back at the office block, they stood together watching the elevator doors close. One thing alone played on Blair's mind.

'Why did you roll your eyes when Mark mentioned your fa-'

Before she could finish her sentence, a slender arm jammed suddenly between the doors, catching them just in time to shimmy into the already-tight space.

'Matilda.' Chuck said with a wry smile, evidently pleased by the interruption she had provided. But Blair vowed internally to make it her business to corner him on the matter later. 'Pity you couldn't join us for lunch today.'

Blair observed the interaction shrewdly, watching his features grow playful as he regarded the woman. It was more than a little cutting for her to discover that Chuck had invited Matilda to their lunch. It seemed somewhat less of a warm gesture, now with the new knowledge that he hadn't simply wished to do something kind for her and her alone. But if there was one thing Blair had learned through her many, unhappy years with Nate, it was how to hold face. And hold it she did, her expression not revealing a glimpse of her inner frustration.

'Sorry, I've been so busy today.' She answered with a sigh. 'Did you still want to get a drink after work?' Matilda asked, preening in the mirrored walls of the elevator. She paused only to look over at Chuck when he didn't immediately respond.

But his eyes had instead been fixed on Blair, she realised. Perhaps he'd been waiting to see if she'd react, and for the second time that day she had to stop herself snorting with laughter. His attempt to stir some misbegotten jealousy in her was utterly transparent, and as soon as he saw she was unbothered he'd no doubt give up on the façade of lusting after the lesser brunette.

'There's nothing I'd like more.' Chuck replied in earnest, eyes suddenly averted from Blair and avidly devouring Matilda's lithe figure.

Admittedly, perhaps unbothered hadn't been quite the right word for what Blair had felt in that moment.