Something was up.
She knew it when he took longer than usual to finish his after work scotch.
She had been sitting on the floor next to Henry at the coffee table when Chuck made his way up the curved staircase into their living room. They both cheerfully looked up, excited to greet their leading man. Chuck, for his part, forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he ruffled his son's hair and gave his wife a loving, albeit quick, kiss. He moved across the room to the bar cart, grabbed his favorite Baccarat tumbler (one of the ones that was monogrammed with his initials), and poured a generous four fingers of Glenlivet 50-year Winchester Collection (the nearly $30,000 bottle of scotch that was reserved for particularly awful days at the office). He took a long sip as he looked past his wife and eldest son to stare out the window deep in thought before quietly heading upstairs to the study. He wouldn't reemerge for another hour and a half.
And when he was brooding at the dinner table as their nearly five-year-old Henry exuberantly commanded everyone's attention as he detailed his day.
"Today Miss Kara took us to the Museum of Natural History and we got to see all the planets in the planter room," Henry excitedly began to summarize his day.
"Planetarium, sweetie," Blair gently corrected.
"That's what I said," he curtly returned before continuing. "And after we finished in the plan-a-tar-eeee-um," he pointedly enunciated while shooting his mother a familiarly smug look that could only be explained by genetics, "we went to see the dinosaur and Matty dared me to touch the dinosaur. He said I'm too much of a baby to touch it, so guess what I did - I touched it!"
"Henry Charles you did NOT!," Blair practically shrieked.
"Don't have a 'niption, mommy."
"Chuck! Are you even listening to this?!," Blair screeched as she drove the heel of her stiletto into her husband's Salvatore Ferragamo loafers in an effort to bring him back to earth.
Or the way he didn't even seem to flinch when their three-year-old sons Teddy and Benjamin took aim at him with their unwanted vegetables.
It started innocently enough - Teddy had reached across the table to grab his cup when he bumped his elbow on the handle of his toddler fork and catapulted his broccoli over to Benjamin's plate. The boys erupted into a fit of giggles, which went unnoticed by Chuck as he was not-so-discreetly checking his email on his phone under the table.
Using their apparent twin telepathy, Teddy and Benjamin reached the same conclusion - the best way to get their daddy's attention would be to test out this catapulting thing a little further. Repositioning their forks to aim towards Chuck, Teddy loaded his fork with another broccoli floret and Benjamin opted for a scoop of mashed potatoes. In a nearly simultaneous launch, they shot their vegetables at Chuck with impressive accuracy - the broccoli hit him square in the forehead and the mashed potatoes hit him on the cheek as he looked up to figure out what the hell was going on.
Something close to an expression of mirth ghosted across his face as he wiped off the potatoes before ducking his head down again without any desire to reprimand the twins.
Blair, on the other hand, had other plans.
"BOYS! Theodore. Benjamin. We do NOT play with our food, do you understand?!"
"Yes, Mommy," they chimed in unison.
Henry was trying to hide a laugh across the table and snuck his brothers a thumbs up of approval.
Blair was about to comment further when she glanced over to her husband and realized something must be amiss.
Something was definitely up, Blair thought to herself resolutely as she padded down the hall of their townhouse and approached the door to their study. With a deep breath and a quick smoothing of the non-existent wrinkle in their favorite purple floor length silk La Perla robe, she turned the knob and quietly entered the room. She approached Chuck, who had his back turned to her in his desk chair as he intently gazed out the window, and slipped into his lap.
"I can tell when something's bothering you, Bass," she began, stifling a moan as he leaned in and kissed her neck before regaining her focus. "You're not getting out of this. Spill."
His initial response was a very heavy sigh.
"Oh boy. Sounds like you're gonna need a refill for this one," Blair tried to bring a little levity to the situation as she stood up and went to the bar to refill his scotch, making it a double that they could share.
Making her way over to the couch that Chuck had now moved to, she extended the drink and sat down next to him, turning to give him her full attention.
"Blair - I -," he started. "I'm afraid I have some news that is going to upset you, and probably the boys, too. I never wanted this to happen, but it's out of my hands at this point and please, just know that I've been trying to figure out a solution but I'm failing."
"Chuck, you're scaring me. Just rip the bandaid off already."
"I have to move to Paris for at least a year," he bluntly stated, looking to his wife for a response, a reaction - anything; however, she just stared back, seemingly rendered speechless and needing some more details.
"You know how we've been exploring our options for expanding Bass Industries' footprint in Europe? Well, we already have a London office. Research & Development has put together an abundance of reports - an overabundance, really - and all signs point to France," Chuck elaborated. "Which sounded great, until it was presented to the board and there was a resounding opinion that if we establish a new headquarters within Europe, I must be the one to lead the project. They want me there to oversee everything and personally train the VP who will be heading it up."
Blair listened intently with furrowed brows before simply asking, "When?"
"They'd want me there in September so I can handpick the talent and lay the groundwork throughout Q4 and be ready to move full force ahead starting with Q1. Optimistically, I'd be home in January 2021," he responded. "Beautiful, you have to know how much I don't want to do this but I don't have any other choice. Right now, I'm thinking I'll propose that I spend Monday through Thursday in Paris, fly home Thursday nights, work from the Manhattan office on Friday, and then fly back on Sunday evening. It'll be tough, but I can't be away from you and the boys for any longer than that."
"You know, I've always wanted our sons to be fluent in French," she interjected. "I mean, they pretty much are already, but the accent is lacking. I want them to sound authentic, native."
Chuck tilted this head as she continued.
"And we could be so close to Daddy and Roman. You know how much I miss them, and it would be so great for their relationships with the boys," Blair went on. "We have the Paris atelier, too. And if you ask me, they could probably use a little trimming of the fat and a reorganization that I'd prefer to do hands on."
She paused briefly to really take in her husband's reaction before laughing.
"Close your mouth, darling. You're liable to start catching flies."
"Blair, you can't be serious."
"Serious as a heart attack, Bass," she simply replied. "You said it yourself - you can't be away from us like that. We're a family. We stick together. You're going to Paris? We're going to Paris. No debates. It's final."
As relief washed over him, Chuck practically lunged towards his wife, pouring all of his love and appreciation into the urgent kiss he planted upon her. Happily returning his enthusiasm, Blair soon found his hands making quick work of her robe's belt in an effort to make sure she knew just how grateful he was for her solution.
#
Some time later as they laid together in the afterglow, a mess of tangled limbs and clothing long forgotten, Blair smirked before musing out loud, "You once told me we weren't living in Paris in the 1920s. Well, now we'll be living in Paris in the 2020s."
He couldn't help but chuckle in response before questioning, "So how far along are you in your planning?"
"Mentally? I've shortlisted the acceptable schools that I'm going to have Andrew Tyler pull information on first thing tomorrow. I'm torn between living in the 6th arrondissement, among the history and that je nais se quois established by all the great artists and writers who lived there before, and the 16th arrondissement to be close to our fellow expats and have a nice taste of home and beyond, so I'll have Andrea pull potential listings for us to tour when we take our trip there this summer. And finally, I'm thinking about who's up on the chopping block first at Waldorf Designs. I'll have to conference with Eleanor and come up with a game plan utilizing her input."
After all these years, Chuck was still often astonished by how quick his wife's mind worked. Once again only managing to react with a chuckle, he pulled her closer to plant a sweet kiss at the crown of her head before emitting in a deep whisper, "I love you, Waldorf. One word, seven letters - forever."
AN: Hi! I haven't decided if this is one and done or if there will be more one shots of their life in Paris, so let me know what you think and what you'd like to see. I hope everyone enjoyed - I know it's on the short side.