"You can't give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That's how you'll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky."

- Holly Golightly [Breakfast at Tiffany's]

There are many things Blair Waldorf-Bass appreciates about her life and, particularly, about her marriage. There's the fashion company she's running with a whole army of people constantly at her beck and call. And her husband, who just so happens to be the love of her life, who has neither lost his cunningness nor his beauty or his foible of getting her expensive gifts when she least expects it (and also when she does). Then there's her family which has grown from being her mother and three fathers, her maid and the BFFs she grew up with, to include her own children. A not-so-tiny-anymore boy with his dad's unruly dark hair and a petit little girl with her mother's sharp wit.

And still there is more: a wonderful home for their family, the most secure and powerful social standing she could have ever imagined (and she has imagined them all), their god-children, … truly, Blair's life has not been short of every perfect little detail she used to plan when she was 12 years old and already completely certain about what she wanted to be.

There is but one thing that she never planned for, that has never made it on to any youthful dreaming diary page and that might just be her favorite of them all. It's almost their little secret, a small competition, because everything turns into one with them if they're being honest (which they're trying to be, except when they're not).

It starts out inconspicuous – just a tiny little note on her vanity table with his engraved initials at the top of the page.

Meet me downstairs at 9. – Yours

And of course, this sets her off in a frenzy. They have been married for 20 days. Two weeks and 6 days that they have spent at either her place, the Empire, at work or the police station, finalizing their statements and tying up all lose ends so no one could possibly interpret their month-long honeymoon as an intrepid escape from the law. This is the first day after their wedding that she has woken up without him due to a full day of meetings on both their sides before their flight the next day which had already put her in a cranky mood. And now all her stuff is packed up and ready to go and Chuck ("Her husband!" a giddy voice in her head can't help to add) decides to leave her a cryptic message.

"Dorota!" she yells, pleased to find at least her maid's reaction time adequate to her needs. She holds up the offending note accusingly. "What is this?"

Her maid takes a quick glance at the note only to look back at her with a raised not-quite-daring-but-not-far-off eyebrow. "It look like note from Mister Chuck," she tells her calmly while fluffing the duvet on the far side of the bed.

"Yes," Blair sighs in exasperation, "I can see that. But what is it about?" She turns back to the mirror to take a look at her own exhausted face. "Doesn't that damn Bass know that I've had a long, exhausting day? He's not the only one working, you know? I can't just drop everything because he decides it's time for – and what is he even planning?"

"Long day without Mister Chuck," Dorota mutters under her breath, then louder she says "Maybe it surprise before honeymoon. Mister Chuck know how much Miss Blair love surprises."

That does put a glimmer back into Blair's eyes when she glances at the plain note again and the bold, almost ornate signature that he's taken to putting under private notes only meant for her eyes. "Fine," she sighs eventually, "He does know me better than anyone. I suppose I can give him the benefit of the doubt." She caresses the expensive paper once more before setting it down and getting up to look for the perfect outfit for an evening she knows nothing about.

Damn that Motherchucker. Now he's gotten her excited.

At 9 p.m. sharp she descends the stairs of her penthouse to the clear ping announcing the elevator's arrival. She pauses at the landing to take in Chuck stepping out of it with a bouquet of pink peonies clutched in his hands. He saunters into the hallway and, like always, looks up to find her standing there, watching him. She notes, not without a hint of smugness, that his steps falter as he takes in her figure-hugging knee-length dress that is matching his dark red bow tie perfectly.

"You know we're already married, right?" She starts walking towards him, one hand elegantly gliding down on the banister until she's standing right in front of him. "You don't have to try to win me over anymore." Nevertheless, she takes the flowers from him before accepting his lingering kiss to her cheek.

"Oh, but I intend to remind you of why you chose to marry me every day for the rest of our lives," he all but breathes into her skin before leaning back again, clearly pleased with the reaction he's getting from her. "Didn't I tell you in my vows?"

Tilting her head to the side in order to regain some composure, she smirks innocently. "You must have skipped that part in favor of not getting arrested."

And then she stumbles, or better; her heart does. Because he's laughing – light and loud, showing his teeth and shaking his head slightly. And she's in love, in love, in love with this man. So much so that she's momentarily stunned into a silent awe of him.

"A terrible oversight on my part," he acknowledges, with a small smile still playing on his lips, "But I do have four weeks to make up for it and I intend to use them wisely."

"Speaking of," she eyes him suspiciously, because it simply won't do for her to dissolve into a gooey puddle of heart eyes now, "Is there a reason you're dragging me out of the comfort of my home on the night before our honeymoon? You know I've had a long day. I really just wanted to take a shower. Possibly with company…" She trails off lasciviously, only to find her words to have had little to no effect on him which is almost insulting.

"I'll make it worth your while, I promise," and he smiles again and she feels parts of her perk up and awaken because he's never not made it worth her while and damn him, she really does love a good surprise. "In fact," he adds, "It's another part of my vows that I didn't get to articulate quite the way I wanted it to."

"Careful, Bass," she teases lightly, "You're making me think you had actual vows written out before all of this. And if I find out you did; do you really think I wouldn't make you act them to me."

He levels her with a look – one of her favorites of his – that says 'Careful' and 'I dare you' and 'I love you' and 'I'm Chuck Bass' all in one.

"I've had the ring for 3 years; do you really think I didn't have the speech planned?"

A warm sensation settles in her stomach while a pleased grin slowly spreads across her face as she straightens up a because there's a challenge in there somewhere and she knows he's meant for her to hear it. Before she can device a plan to uncover even his deepest and darkest secret, however, he clears his throat and holds out his hand for her to take.

"Will you do me the honors of accompanying me tonight, Waldorf?"

"Actually," she flips her hair and takes his hand, "It's Waldorf-Bass now."

When he pulls her to him it's with more momentum than she anticipated and she all but tumbles into his chest and, once she's gotten her bearings, her hand tightly holding on to the lapel of his suit and looks up into his eyes, she sees it's exactly where he wanted her. The next thing she knows he's claiming her mouth with his, kissing her as passionately as if he's never done so before but with all the wonderful competence of a person who has been kissing her forever.

"You like my new name?" she whispers against his lips after they pull apart.

"You know I do," he breathes back.

She does. And she basks in the evidence of the fact that she has the power to make the most powerful man she knows putty in her hands. Sometimes a girl just needs the reminder that she can really do that.

"Well," she pats his chest with an open hand and puts on her most winning smile, "You will have to show me later. Right now, I hear there's a surprise waiting for me."

He growls under his breath but doesn't complain further, simply pulls her into the elevator and into his side. She leans her head on his shoulder with a satisfied smirk on her lips. She can really Do That.

"Wait."

The first hint that this truly might be an unusual, yes, unique, night out comes the moment they step out of her building in form of the Bass limo. Or lack thereof.

"Where's Arthur?" she wants to know, almost scandalized to not find the trusted driver as well as the well-known and much-beloved car at the curbside waiting for them.

"I gave him the night off," Chuck tells her, taking a hold of the hand she has loosened from his grip in surprise, "I thought tonight we could take a short walk together."

Eyeing him from the side, she's not entirely convinced someone hasn't freaky-fridayed Chuck Bass into someone who likes to walk places. "Forgive the cliché but I do have to ask. Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

"I can assure you, your husband is fine," he replies smoothly, intertwining their fingers and tugging at her hand gently to lead her to the right. "Just trust me, it's all part of the process."

"Some process you have there," she complains, "Making me walk god knows where in three-inch heels. And what if we get mugged? Your smarmy smirk doesn't fool anyone. We don't even have Dorota with us to fend off attackers."

Now inappropriately amused, he turns to her. "You once told me you could walk through hell in your favorite Louis Vuitton, so I'm sure you can handle a twenty-minute stroll down Park Avenue. As for the mugging – you have nothing to worry about. Just trust me that I have my ways of ensuring your safety."

"I suppose I could give you the benefit of the doubt," she contemplates gracefully and, because she isn't Blair Waldorf-Bass if she doesn't have demands, adds: "But only if we walk down 5th Avenue instead of Park."

He grins, immediately adjusting his stride. "Your wish is my command."

"Huh, you really are serious about this aren't you?"

"Yes," he says simply, squeezing her hand as if that should tell her enough. And weirdly, it does. She squeezes back twice before relaxing into their stroll, breathing in the cool night air and taking in the sparkling lights and familiar noises of her favorite place in the world. She loves Paris with all her heart but there's nowhere in the world where her heart feels as light as it does in New York. This city has seen her every downfall and bad decision but has also been witness to her happiest moments, the brightest laughter.

In a way she could be saying the same thing about Chuck.

Whether its him or New York – no matter what, coming back will always feel like coming home. And what could possibly compete with that?

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, you know," she shrugs flirtatiously as she swings their hands, "Just how much I love you. And you love me." He squeezes her hand as if in affirmation and she keeps talking because, really, her mind's running through every possible goal of their short little walk to figure out his surprise. "Also, I've been thinking about that Louis Vuitton on 5th and 57th. Did you know they launch their Fall collection tomorrow?"

"Really? I had no idea." The smirk in his voice almost makes her think she has figured him out but then he adds: "But I do know that they close at 8."

"You could make them reopen for me," she states simply but decides not to dwell on a lost cause. "Fine, at least tell me if it's before or after 57th."

"Before," he concedes with a sigh.

"Armani?"

"Wrong side of 5th."

Her eyes light up. "Verdura?"

"Also closed since 6 p.m."

"How do you even know that?" she wants to know indignantly. By now they're already almost to the Pulitzer Fountain and she can feel both her annoyance and excitement grow so she just fires off the next ideas from the top of her head: "Metropolitan Club? Cartier? St. Regis?"

At that he levels her with a look. "You really think I would take you to a hotel that's not my own? And anyway," he directs them across Pulitzer Plaza, "We're already here."

Blair lets her eyes travel over the house front inquisitively until they land on the inconspicuous marquee of the Paris Theater and she narrows her eyes at her husband.

"I didn't know they were screening Breakfast at Tiffany's."

"That's because they weren't," he tells her, sounding appropriately smug about having pulled off his surprise.

"What have you done, Bass?" she grins at him and she doesn't even try to deny that she has stars in her eyes. But it doesn't matter because what she sees in his when she meets his gaze, takes her breath away.

He's taken a hold of her other hand now, running a thumb over the soft skin of the back of her hand and all the noises around them are drowned out when he begins to speak.

"Chuck and Blair holding hands, Chuck and Blair going to the movies…" he trails off and she thinks, for probably the first time in her adult life, she has been left truly speechless. "I've been thinking about what you said. I meant what I said the night I proposed to you. I was a child back then and our lives together could never be boring. But," he takes a deep breath, "I don't think I've realized how much my words hurt you even after all these years and I don't want you to have to trust my word alone that they were not true. I want to show you that I believe in us with every fiber of my being. It doesn't matter what we do or what we don't do, just as long as I'm with you. Every day for the rest of my life for as long as you'll have me."

With a lot more effort than she would've thought she needed, she blinks back the tears in her eyes and sniffles quietly in the most lady-like way possible. "So that's what a real Chuck Bass proposal would've looked like, huh?" she jokes warmly, "Maybe I should have insisted on that big wedding after all."

She finds she still has trouble finding the right words as she's getting lost in his dark eyes but she has to try. And in the world of Blair Waldorf, to try means to succeed.

"We've both hurt each other," she says eventually, "There have been a lot of things I needed to forgive you for and I have. But this was not one of them." She smiles sadly. "You were right back then. Not," she corrects, "About us being boring but about us not being ready. We would've gone up in flames in a week. And look at what happened, we still ended up ruining it a year later. But," she blinks up at him earnestly, "Everything that came before that – that year of a relationship that we had – was the happiest I've ever been. Even though NYU was horrible and I made my fair share of mistakes but, whatever happened, I had you. And I spent the last three years missing you. As my boyfriend, my partner in life."

She leans up slowly to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "So, Chuck Bass, I'm sorry to inform you but you are stuck with me now."

"I think I can live with that," he smiles back, pulling her into an embrace so tight and omniferous that she loses herself in his smell, his feel and presence.

When they pull apart and she takes his hand to lead him across the street, she grins happily. "Chuck Bass at a public movie theater. I'm not sure the world is ready for this."

And he gives back, with a matching smirk: "Well, I did rent it out…"

Blair laughs. "I guess we're just going to be making up our own rules from here on out."

And they have.

Ever since that night, ever since coming back from their honeymoon four weeks later, this kind of unusual date night has become a part of their routine. Every couple of months one or the other decides that it's time for them to do the most ordinary thing they can think of instead of attending the next gala or art gallery opening or fifth divorce of a casual acquaintance. They go to museums and concerts and the planetarium. They take walks and roller skate and rent out Coney Island for a night. They go shopping at a mall (roll-playing as a couple with no social standing), do private karaoke and almost break up over a game of Monopoly.

They fight, of course, and curse each other to the moon and back but at the end of the day they're Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck. And they always find their way back.

A/N: After obsessing over this show 9 years ago, I'm happy to announce that I have, once again, spent an atrocious amount of time watching and re-watching and re-re-watching. Writing these two was somehow more of a challenge than everything I've written so far (might be because I'm not filthy rich, who knows). But I'm sorta happy with how this turned out. I hope you enjoyed it!