Hey, so I said I had three chapters more or less ready, and I did, so I thought why bother dragging it out. I'm going on holiday for a couple of weeks at the end of this week, so I may not have time to write the next instalment. Honestly, who knows though- two weeks is a long time to spend in the sun and my pale complexion is going to need a bit of indoor time. Anyway, I'm really happy to read that you are enjoying this! I noticed someone asked if this fic would contain the usual degree of angst I like to torture folks with. Short answer: no. A little, teeny, tiny, harmless bit, but it will be a lot fluffier than my usual jam. Thanks so much for the support, love you!

P.S. Obviously I write in British English and realise this might impact reading experience a bit for the puritans, as Chair wouldn't be dicing with all the Us and Ss over Zs that I do. Does anyone mind very much? I could try to use American English, but I might miss bits. Tell me what you think!

To a woman like Blair Waldorf, shopping was almost better than sex. She'd dared to say it before, when it had meant something because she actually was having sex on a regular basis. But now, right in the thick of Bergdorf's new season Prada, all its pleats, collars and sleeves so perfectly steamed, she was fairly sure she'd shout it from the highest rooftop in New York City and proclaim herself celibate, if somebody asked her to.

'This one would look so beautiful on you, B.' Serena remarked dreamily, her eyes on a white cotton sundress with a full skirt and delicate neckline. 'Oh, can we please go away soon? I'm in dire need of a holiday.'

Blair smirked. 'Sure, just ask KC, and I'll see what my boss says.' She said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

She was incredibly fortunate that Serena had the time to shop with her at all, and she'd not start dreaming of a girls' trip just yet.

'Ugh, is he still being awful to you? We just had brunch at my mom's, next time I'll give him a piece of my mind.'

Blair pondered the question a moment before replying. While it was true that Chuck's initial reception had been less than pleasant, and he was still belligerently making her fetch his coffee each morning, he'd not done anything remarkably sour for some time. Well, besides Matilda it seemed.

'He's alright, nothing too scary beyond outwardly flirting with this bitch who wouldn't consider letting me transfer to her team.'

'Matilda?'

Blair's head snapped round at this. 'You know her name? Does he say much about her?'

'No, Blair. That would have been you, complaining about her all morning.' Serena said, one eyebrow raised.

'Oh, ha-ha.' Blair breathed with affected ease. 'Does he… say much about me?' She queried, practising her best look of nonchalance as she toyed with a garment on the rack in front of her.

It wasn't working- Serena was regarding her with an expression one might describe as disappointment, only it was mingled with a degree of astonishment too. 'Blair, tell me you're not interested in him again. I thought that phase of your life disappeared when he did. Nate's body isn't even cold yet!'

'No, of course not. Chuck Bass in any position other than that of my boss is the furthest thing from my mind, Serena.'

'Uh huh. It had better stay that way. I've come to develop a bit of a soft spot for him, but Chuck spells nothing but trouble where you're concerned.'

'Exactly, which is why I should be focussing on finding the highest necklines and the lowest hems available in this store.' Blair announced with a flourish, letting go of the rather stunning black silk number that he would have devoured the sight of her in.

'Blair,' Serena said, trailing behind her friend with her arms full of clothes.

'Yes?'

'You know that roleplaying as Amish still technically counts as dressing for him, when you shouldn't be considering his opinion at all, right?'

Blair shook her off with a scoff and a wave of her hand. 'Nonsense.'

In the midst of their conversation, she had felt her phone vibrating relentlessly in the depths of her bag, so reached for it by way of some tool to avoid Serena's now very overbearing stare. If she wanted answers, she'd not get any.

Blair had downloaded her work email to her personal phone in hopes of demonstrating her undying loyalty and, subsequently, Chuck's clear failure to live up to his position. She'd been ignoring its sounds most of the day, but now it provided refuge.

'Woah.' Blair breathed.

An email chain of several messages had been forwarded to her by a very frustrated sounding Mark Keane. There seemed to be some drama that demanded Chuck's presence at the office- the pleas had been made by several people, but he had not responded to a single one, even Matilda.

Blair couldn't help the little smile that played on her lips- perhaps his demise would come sooner than even she'd expected. She wondered blithely if it were too soon to start celebrating her upcoming promotion in light of his shortcomings.

'What?' Serena demanded, having eyed Blair's smug grin for long enough.

'Oh nothing.' Blair sang. 'Just the downfall of a certain Bass on the horizon.'

'Chuck's in trouble?' Serena said, her genuine concern for her stepbrother somewhat spoiling Blair's fun.

'Is it so wrong that I want him to fail? He doesn't need this job, S, it's not even allowance money to him.'

Serena thinned her lips. 'What, because it makes such a difference to your pockets? Blair, weren't you just saying how decent he's been? That he took you out to lunch with the CFO?'

Blair rolled her eyes. 'Sure, but it's all for his own benefit, no doubt.'

'What if it isn't, Blair? What if he's just a better person than you give him credit for?'

Chuck- a better person than she gave him credit for? Blair made a mental note to advise Lily that Serena wasn't getting nearly enough sleep since the dawn of her career in publicity.

'I highly doubt that.' She mused at last.

'Well you are, aren't you?' Serena said.

'What?'

'A better person than you were all those years ago.'

'Of course I am, but he doesn't know the meaning of the word growth.' Blair pointed out, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Serena ignored her. 'Blair, you have to help him if you can.'

Blair sighed, she knew her friend was right. Beating Chuck this way wasn't even what she wanted, it wouldn't make her feel any better about herself if the promotion she craved was handed to her rather than earned and deserved.

'Fine!' She snapped, putting the phone back into her purse and passing her armful of clothes to Serena. 'Get these wrapped up and put on my account, I'll head over to the office now.' Blair grumbled.

Serena smiled wide and happily took Blair's load. 'Trust me, you'll feel great about this tomorrow!' She called after the retreating form of her brunette friend.

At the office, Blair was unsure what she'd walk into, but upon finding several bodies hunched angrily over a large table scattered with papers, she knew she had to think of something quickly to save Chuck's skin.

She cleared her throat noisily, winning their attentions. 'Hi, Chuck sent me with his apologies. He's tied up in some personal business at the moment and couldn't get away, but I'm here. Can I lend a hand at all?'

'Blair?' Matilda's chestnut-coloured head of waves popped up from the centre of the huddled mass of people. 'You're an assistant, you can't do anything useful here, except maybe get us some cappuccinos from down the street.'

She scowled at the woman, but quickly noticed other heads nodding in agreement. Without even giving her a chance, they'd resigned her to the position of hapless coffee girl.

'Hold on a second-' Said another voice. 'Give her a shot. Why not let's see what she's got in that Yale-certified brain.' It was that of Mark Keane, who had sent the email chain Blair's way. She swore she saw him wink.

'We could use the extra pair of hands.' Chimed another, stylishly-dressed person. Blair smiled graciously at the older woman she hadn't yet met.

Slowly, she watched as the heads that had nodded along with Matilda began to change their directions, opening up the circle they huddled in to allow her access. She dropped her purse and coat and nestled herself in the centre of the table.

'So, what's happened?'

Five hours, three shots of espresso and one ground-breaking solution later, Blair strode out of the office with her head held high and a pep in her step that she'd been missing since the day of the ill-fated interview. Even Matilda had been impressed enough to commend her for her out-of-the-box thinking.

She hadn't even known where her merry feet were taking her, until it dawned on Blair that she was standing outside of The Palace. She dithered a moment at the grand entrance to the hotel, her feet willing her to walk away, though they stood firmly rooted to the ground. It certainly wouldn't have been proper to let him find out about the whole mess on Monday morning, but she couldn't very well storm up to his room with the news, could she?

Well in fact, it seemed she could do just that. Blair began propelling her resistant body inside the hotel and up towards 1812. She knew the way like the back of her hand, of course, even after so many years. But standing in front of that familiar door now felt daunting, and she was full to burst with trepidation. Would he be happy to see her and grateful for her help? She wondered on it a while. Perhaps he'd be angered by the news that she'd gone in his place and reprimand her. Would he fire her? Could he fire her?

All these thoughts raced through Blair's mind as she held her fist frozen by the door. She backed away from it silently. If he didn't know she'd been going to rap on his door and invite herself in, maybe that meant she could pretend she was never planning to do it at all. A sort of Schrödinger's knock, she thought.

'What are you doing, Blair?' The voice came from behind her, it was emerging from the elevator she'd rode up in not ten minutes before.

She cursed herself, cursed every stupid nerve ending and vein in her body. Of course he'd know.

'I- uh. There was an emergency at work.' She turned around to look at him, wishing instantly she hadn't. He looked somewhat rumpled. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, his hair in disarray from hands running through it, no doubt. He looked wrought, but totally and entirely mouth-watering.

'Well, come in.' He said, stumbling past her to open the door. Chuck stood by it, waiting while she made her choice.

Into the devil's lair it was.

The room was different from the last time she'd seen it; it had been five years after all. Despite its fine furnishings, it felt somehow emptier, missing his usual flair, with pale walls and plain decorations.

'Do you want something to drink?' He asked, positioning himself by the bar, where he poured a large measure of scotch – not his first, she'd deduced from the state of his appearance. 'I have some champagne in the fridge.'

'No, I'm okay.' Blair said slowly, edging towards the couch in the centre of his space. Even the air was intoxicating, it smelt so familiar and inviting in there that she could hardly breathe.

'Oh, that's right. I forgot you don't like Dom anymore.' He snickered, swallowing his dose of scotch and refilling the glass.

'Actually, on second thoughts I will take that drink.' She looked at him expectantly as his expression shifted. He reached under the counter for the bottle, not taking his eyes off her once.

The pop of the champagne bottle was almost deafening as it resounded in the stark room, then too was the ardent fizz of the bubbles against the glass he poured it into. Stalking over to her like a great, wild cat, he passed her the glass and took a set across from her.

'So, to what do I owe the pleasure?'

'Have you looked at your cell today, Bass? There was a huge drama that required you to be at work.' She informed him, her nose pinching. 'Jesus, how much have you had to drink? You smell like a brewery.'

He ignored her swipe and fumbled for the phone in his pocket, grimacing as he flicked through the many emails that had gone all day unread in his inbox.

'No. No, no, no.' Chuck murmured, eyes still fixed on the screen as he grew visually more and more certain of his poor fate. He rose from his seat sharply, looking at Blair, then the door. 'Don't tell me you're here to gloat. Is that why you changed your mind about the champagne?' He snarled.

'No.' Blair said, saddened by his assumption she set her glass down on the table, feeling the drink somewhat sullied by his accusation. Sure, she had thought about it at first, but he didn't know that. 'I wanted to help you, that's why I came. Mark forwarded me the chain and I went to the office for you.'

'For me?' He sank back down. 'I don't understand.'

'I told them you were tied up and couldn't make it, but that you'd sent me in your place.'

'You helped me?'

Blair nodded, reaching back to the glass in need of some bolstering and taking a big gulp.

'Why?'

She shrugged.

'Why, Blair?'

'I don't know, Chuck. It just felt like the right thing to do.' She felt her body shift nervously, he was making her feel more nervous now than he ever had before.

He moved closer to her, so they were only a hair's width apart. 'But you hate me. Why wouldn't you just take your chance to sabotage me?

'I don't know, Chuck. Maybe I don't hate you as much as you think.' She replied quietly.

He leaned back from her to get a better look. 'Now that I don't believe for a second.' He said laughing.

'Can't you just thank me and move on? I saved your ass today. You could be a little more grateful.' She said, her irritation beginning to shine through after his standoffishness had at first muted it.

Chuck smiled wider, lifting himself off the couch and away from her to drop into an over-pronounced bow, his hand performing a ridiculous flourish. 'Thank you ever so kindly for your services.' He said, almost sneering as he lifted himself from the position.

Blair huffed dramatically and looked away from him as he sat down beside her again. He was topping up her glass again when she turned back.

'Come on.' He said, nudging her softly with his shoulder. 'Lighten up. I am grateful to you, I appreciate your help.'

'Where were you today then?' Blair countered, reaching for the glass and watching him carefully as his gaze moved from gentle to guarded. 'What was it that held your attention so strongly?'

He made a face and she wondered if asking the question was a misstep. Had she forgotten who she was talking to so quickly? He was no doubt going to regale her with musings on last night's company. Her eyes flickered to the state of his shirt again. It was clear he'd dressed to impress before someone had got their hands on him. Blair wondered who she was.

'I was at the Empire Hotel.' He answered, leaning back.

'With whom?' She pressed, ever her own executioner.

'No, it's my turn now. One each- that's how we'll do this. Tell me why you and Nate broke up.'

Blair laughed awkwardly. 'Chuck, we're not children, just answer my question.' She said, very purposefully ignoring what he'd said.

'An eye for an eye, Blair.' His eyes were slanted, inquisitive and wicked.

'You do know how that saying ends, right?' She said snootily.

'Just answer my question, then I'll answer yours.'

'Ok.' Blair sighed heavily. 'I broke up with him because we weren't a good match.'

Chuck grinned but tried to hide it. 'He bored you, didn't he?'

'That's another question.'

'I didn't bore you.' It wasn't a question, but she reached out to give him a firm shove.

He held his hands up in defence. 'Okay- I was meeting with the current owner to discuss purchasing the hotel.'

Blair's mouth dropped open. She knew he'd inherited well, but there was no chance he'd gamble his entire, personal wealth. 'Are you cashing in your Bass Industries shares?'

'Ah-ah, my turn again. Did Nate bore you?'

Blair's teeth marred her lower lip. She thought about lying to him, about pretending that she and Nate had come to a mutual decision after a beautiful years-long relationship. But this was Chuck, and he read her like tealeaves. Lying was futile.

'Yes, he bored me stiff.' She admitted. 'What about your Bass Industries shares?'

'It's an option. I need to speak to some board members about it.' He turned his crystal glass between long fingers, seeming to mull over the prospect then and there. 'Why didn't you tell me about you and Nate?'

At this question, Blair snorted. 'Chuck, you can't be serious. You disappeared for years and the only contact we had was a minutes-long phone call where you told me I disgusted you. I didn't think you'd be lining up to discover I was single again.'

He shrugged, as though nothing in the world impacted him, reclining his head against the soft cushions of the couch they sat on.

'Your turn again.' He murmured, looking up into the chandelier that hung above his head.

Blair kicked off her shoes and lifted her feet onto the couch, turning so she faced him. 'Why are you in this state- did the meeting not go well?'

'No, it went very well. The proprietor is very keen to sell me the hotel.' He spoke. 'I'm having some… shall we say personal doubts.' At this he smiled sadly and closed his eyes. 'Why are you acting like a caring friend, Blair?'

'Perhaps we are friends.' She offered, unsure of the statement herself. It was so unusual to catch him in such a candid state. 'What are the doubts?'

He turned his head around slowly, frowning at her for a moment before he replied. 'I've always been stuck behind my father and his legacy.' Chuck began, exhaling. 'I want something of my own, something that no one can pat me sympathetically on the back for, whilst lording the great Bart Bass. I'm lost in his shadow and I want to get out.'

Blair's heart felt like it pierced in that moment. When she looked at him, she saw the teenager who had stood over his father's casket with tired, heavy eyes and a dark expression. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him, but she remembered their strange relationship and resisted. Suddenly it all made sense, the way he'd rolled his eyes and looked away when Mark had brought up Bart. He hated living in his father's shadow, always trying and, to his mind, failing to prove himself equal to a man who had been made a saint in his death. Bart had never spared his own son a kind word when he lived, now his much-mythologised memory haunted the young inheritor.

'That's the why, Chuck. I want to know what the doubts are.'

'Honestly?' He said, looking over at her with gleaming eyes. 'I just don't think I can do it.'

She felt as though she were seventeen all over again, looking into the eyes of a broken teenage boy.

'I think you can.' Blair affirmed, her shoulders rising. 'I believe in you.'

He smirked. 'What makes you say that?'

'Because I remember Victrola, Chuck. I remember your passion and your enthusiasm. Hell, you certainly sold me on that place. You can do it.'

For the first time in their conversation, Blair was wholeheartedly confident in what she said. She and Chuck may have spurned one another's very names once or twice, but it didn't stop her recognising his abilities.

'Well, I appreciate it.' He said quietly.

His eyes fluttered closed again, head still against the couch cushions. She took her opportunity to really look at him. Blair's first thought was that his jaw was so taught and defined, that could have been crafted from pure marble. He had cheekbones that could cut through diamond and those long, dark lashes she envied framed his slanted, troubled eyes. He really was quite beautiful.

'My turn again.' It almost came out as a whisper. 'What would have happened between us if I'd stayed?'

Blair was startled by the question and drowned her gasp in a big sip of her champagne. When she looked back, his eyes were open again, and he studied her like she were some great, ancient text written in a long-dead language he couldn't decipher.

She'd asked herself the same question a few times, more so recently. If he'd stayed, Nate would have undoubtedly found out at some point, there would have been fights, tears, shouting. But maybe she'd have seen how incompatible she and Nate really were sooner, maybe they'd have worked things out. Maybe they'd have destroyed each other trying to.

'It's not worth thinking about.'

'Is it really that impossible to imagine?' His tone was heart breaking.

'It's not that.' Blair said, her voice now meek.

'Then what?'

She took a deep breath. 'It's just been so many years now- so much was ruined. Too much was said and done between us for it to have even been feasible.'

He ruminated over her statement a while, then nodded in agreement at last. 'You're probably right.'

She knew she was. 'Maybe, in time, we could be friends like we used to.' She said, gesturing to the invisible kinship that was blooming between them with the passage of every second.

'I never wanted to be your friend, Blair.'

He was raw and emotional- they were balancing on a knife's edge, she realised. So Blair groaned gently, then got to her feet, slipped her shoes back on and walked away, murmuring her goodbye to deaf ears.

When she got home, she got into her own bed and slid under the covers. She reached for her cell phone, where two messages from his number sang like sirens.

The first read: Thanks for today, for both things. CB

The second: Now that we're friends again, would you consider joining me on a short work trip?

Blair's eyes widened and she threw the phone down beside her, as though it were a bomb primed for imminent explosion. After a few moments of hyperventilation, she picked it up again. She had indeed read correctly; he was asking her to go away with him.