Chapter 13 of In Love & War

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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"And there is nothing left to do
But to kiss once again, and part,
Nay, there is nothing we should rue,
I have my beauty,-you your Art,
Nay, do not start,
One world was not enough for two
Like me and you."
Oscar Wilde

He grabbed her and was now pushing her against the mahogany wall of the hallway, and she was grasping his head as his tongue invaded her quivering mouth.

He grabbed her ass and pulled her up, running his hands under her silken gown and greedily seizing his favorite part of her body. Her thighs. She gasped into his mouth when he squeezed them, leaving his fingerprints on her, because she was his. She arched back in appreciation, moaning into him and roughly yanking at his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more.

She'd never felt like this.

And she remembered that no man had made love to her the way he had.

Make love. Make love to her. She was saying those words in her head, she was chanting them, but they wouldn't escape her lips. Her lips were too busy rediscovering his once more. Tasting them, drowning in them – being assaulted by them.

No man had ever kissed her the way she was being kissed now.

With the raw hunger of a lifetime of suppression; building, building, until it created an explosion of color. An explosion of lust-filled-love.

Love.

With the L and with the V.

She gasped and pushed him back. He stumbled back to the other side of the small hallways, still gasping, still confused and with an obvious erection between in his legs.

"Goodnight, Bass," she managed and with stumbling, wobbly, confused, possibly inebriated legs, she made it to her door.

He stared at her retreating form.

"What the fuck, Blair?" He cried, and she turned sharply to him.

"What does that mean?" She demanded.

"You attack me like some sexually deprived animal, and now you're all goodnight, Bass?" He hissed. His hair was disheveled, and she was pretty sure he was missing some buttons on his shirt. She didn't know who had done that. It was like she was a repressed individual in the middle of a drought. Wait. She was that individual.

"I attacked you? Oh, you poor thing!" She snapped.

He stood there, staring her down. "What does this mean?" He demanded, pointing between them. His finger did not shake. It just didn't.

She shifted because his eyes were doing that thing again. That thing that he did when he saw right through her soul. Yeah, that thing.

"It means…" she paused, licking her lips. "What it means… How come I have to say it? Why don't you say it? You strode over her, grabbed me."

"What were you doing in this hallway –"

"What were you?"

"I was checking on you! Last time you jumped on me –"

"It was out of fear from psychotic staff –"

"Then why did you kiss me back?" He cried. The hallways felt stuffy.

"Why did you even begin it?" She asked.

God, she was beautiful when angry.

"I…" He swallowed and looked over at her. "I don't fucking know."

"I don't, either," she confessed, and now they were left just as confused as they started out.

"Maybe I'm sentimental… Remembering how good things were before the world started falling apart around us," she said softly.

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Things were simple then," he agreed.

"So, is that what this is?" She asked softly, caressing her chilled upper arms.

He watched her, watched her dark curls, all tossed and tempting… The ivory of her gown contrasting against her hair. Her lips were pink and swollen and her feet were bare.

"It must be," he ground out, slumped against the wall.

He didn't take his eyes off her – he was almost afraid to. Afraid he would wake to find that the hallway incident had never happened.

"Chuck…" she started, and he stiffened when she came closer to him. Her eyes were wide and dark, full of peppermint and empty promises.

And she smelled divine.

She had felt divine.

She had tasted even better.

They still had each other's saliva in their mouths. This thought was absolutely mind-boggling.

"… I'm not marrying you for your money."

There. She had said it. Fuck, she had said it. She should be panicking. He could use this against her to destroy her. But what did she have to destroy? She had no dignity, no home, no reputation – no nothing. She had this boy. This man – come back from wherever people went when they left your life. Come back from that place. No longer paper imagery. No longer that. Now raw and real and warm and alive and full of passionate promises. Though his words may not say it – his lips certainly did. His kisses did.

Chuck swallowed. He stared at her. Listened to her words. Let the words sweep over him.

"Then why are you marrying me?" He asked, his voice low – almost a whisper, but in the confines of the hallway it was a booming echo of their thoughts. A whale of a confession.

She shook her head, staring at him. "I don't know."

He understood then. It was not the money. It was the gratitude. He nodded, pressing his lips together and pushing himself off the wall, making them come dangerously close to one another once more.

His breath was on her lips but, before she could protest, he walked past her and back into his room.

She stared at the closed door, exhaling sharply.

If there was one thing that she was certain of now more than ever, it was that this little moment would make their wedding night even more complicated.

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Chuck stood in the middle of his room, still harshly breathing, his lips still remembering the feel of her kisses on him, her little hands – everything about her. The way she purred his name when they were younger, the way she could rock her hips in a circular motion when he used to enter her that just drove him absolutely crazy.

No woman had ever made him lose control like that. None.

And he'd been with plenty. Had them all colors, all shapes – but there was something about that Waldorf skin that made him ache for it. Something about her perfectly shaped lips, her cherub cheeks, her wide eyes that made him just… Make him be something other than what he was.

He cursed loudly, pressing his hand against his erection, and reaching out to grab his bedpost to steady him.

"Fuck, Waldorf… You kill me, woman," he whispered to the empty room.

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Needless to say, neither slept through the night.

Blair paced back and forth and then, when she was sure no one would disrupt her, she crawled to bed and brought herself pleasure by thinking of his hands on her and the memories of him entering her over and over until her fingers cramped from holding on to the sheets as she found her release. Once released… She realized she was still needy and blamed him all for it.

Chuck came four times thanks to his hand. Once his hand was tired and his libido was still unsatisfied, he proceeded to think of things that were the furthest from Blair Waldorf.

Gay priests. Mating buffaloes. Praying mantis. Taking a shit.

He was frustrated, in a foul mood, and that's how Jacob found him. Spread eagle on his bed, his pants now zipped, and his shirt as messy as it had been all night.

"Rough night?" Jacob inquired, looking at Chuck, who was staring blankly at the ceiling.

"She's killing me," Chuck growled, as if he'd been a victim of severe abuse.

"I take it that you've had a… restless night, sir." Jacob walked to his curtains and yanked them open, letting in the light of the bright sun. "Well, it's a lovely morning."

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Blair was stuffed under the covers, still pissed off, still blaming Chuck Bass for the world being in chaos.

That's how Dorota found her. Only her face was peeking out from her covers, and she was scowling in no particular direction.

"Bad night, Miss Blair?" She asked knowingly.

"He's killing me. I'm sure," Blair replied, annoyed.

"Hummm…." Dorota nodded and walked to the curtains and yanked them opened, letting in the light of the bring sun. "Beautiful day for wedding."

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"And then she's like 'I'm not marrying you for your money'," Chuck complained, still not moving from his spot on the bed as Jacob walked around the room, pulling out his tux and setting out his accessories.

He paused in what he was doing, his interest piqued. "And what did you say?"

"What the fuck am I supposed to say? Now it's for gratitude, and I'm not sure if that's worse or what –"

"Sir, it means that perhaps she feels for you," Jacob ventured.

Chuck's head turned to glare at him. "She doesn't feel for me. She feels for herself – this is still about her!"

"Really?" Jacob grabbed Chuck's best shoes and set them by the tux.

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"And then he just grabs me, and what was I supposed to do?" Blair remained in her spot, with her face peeking out from under the covers.

"He grabbed you?" Dorota asked, almost scandalized, as she took out Blair's silk stockings.

"Yes! And then he pushed me against the wall, and now I've been horny since!" Blair spat.

"Miss Blair!" Dorota chided.

"I can't help it, Dorota!" Blair cried, nearly in tears after the night she had.

"Well, he will be husband," Dorota reasoned, happy with her selection of shoes and jewelry.

"He probably did it on purpose!" Blair moaned into her sheets. "Now all I can think of is the wedding night!"

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"I still don't understand what your purpose was in the hallway, sir." Jacob pulled Chuck up by his hands as the younger man refused to sit up.

Chuck glared at him. "I wanted to check on her – after the dress mess!"

"Of course, sir," Jacob grunted as he threw Chuck over his shoulder and carried him fireman-style to his prepared bath.

"And now I have to marry her!" Chuck complained as he was carried.

"You don't have to marry her, sir," Jacob told him, still grunting as he slowly made his way to the bath.

"Of course I have to marry her! Then it'll seem like I care!"

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Dorota yanked Blair's sheets from her.

"And now he'll have that smug look on his face!" Blair cried as Dorota pulled her by her feet until she was sliding off the large bed.

"Don't look at him!" Dorota snapped.

"I have to look at him, he'll be my husband in a few hours!" Blair whined as Dorota pulled her arm over her shoulder and hefted her up from her wobbly legs.

"You don't have to marry," Dorota reasoned.

"Of course I have to marry him! Then it'll seem like I'm in love with him or something!" Blair complained as Dorota nearly dragged her to her bath.

"You no love him, Miss Blair?" Dorota grunted, carrying the majority of Blair's weight.

"Of course I don't!" Blair spat.

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"Well, do you care?" Jacob asked after finally stripping Chuck down to his boxers by the filled tub.

"No!" Chuck spat when Jacob turned around for Chuck to get into his bubble bath. "Yes – maybe, I don't fucking know!"

Jacob brought Chuck his sponge and liquid soap, Chuck snatched it from him as he sat amidst bubbles.

"Perhaps Miss Blair cares more than you think," Jacob suggested.

Chuck made a derisive sound. "She's Blair Waldorf – and I'm most certainly NOT a prince charming!"

"Well, sir – you did save her," Jacob reasoned, fishing for Chuck's favorite robe.

"Exactly! She still carries this image of me that is not true!"

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"And he doesn't exactly make it easy, you know!" Blair continued as she sat in her bubble bath as Dorota provided her with her liquid soap and bath oils.

"Of course not – horrible man." Dorota handed her the oil.

"I mean he's not all terrible – not all the time. It's like I have to marry old Chuck with the new Chuck in my head to get the man I'm marrying!" Blair cried, snatching the oil from Dorota angrily.

"Miss Blair, perhaps you like Mr. Chuck," Dorota suggested.

"I most certainly do not! I mean, I get confused, yes – the kissing and horseback riding don't help, you know!" Blair scrubbed her skin angrily.

"Very simple, Miss. Blair." Dorota looked around for a robe. "No more kissing. No more horses."

"It's not that simple!" Blair ground out. "Now I'm going to be his wife. Sure, I can ignore him while here, but when we have to go out and face the public, I have to act like a woman in love with the self-righteous, sexy bastard."

"You think he sexy?"

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"I suggest no more horseback rides, no dancing, no being nice, and no private dinners," Jacob said as he handed Chuck his bowtie.

Chuck was now dressed in his tux pants, crisp white shirt and shiny shoes.

"I don't intend to. I intend to ignore her," Chuck snapped, looking at himself in the mirror. "After tonight, I will not touch her."

"No touching," Jacob nodded as Chuck began to comb his hair back.

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"I think he a good man, Miss Blair." Dorota worked her magic on Blair's hair as Blair sat stiffly while her nails dried.

"He's not!" Blair spat. "I mean he is – just not a good man to marry."

"Still good," Dorota smiled, satisfied at her handiwork.

"Whichever. One thing is evident. After tonight, I will not touch him." Blair wiggled her drying toes.

"Good. No touching," Dorota agreed, taking out Blair's perfume.

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"How do I look?" Chuck asked, now finally polished and complete.

"Like a groom," Jacob remarked.

"All the preparations ready?" He asked, pushing down the nervous flitters going through his stomach.

"As promised." Jacob nodded.

"Have you seen her today?" Chuck asked, and Jacob shook his head sourly.

"I was not allowed to," he spat.

Chuck's brows rose. "Dorota?"

"Yes – her." Jacob hissed.

Chuck smirked.

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"How do I look?" Blair asked, finally outfitted.

Dorota looked near tears next to Pollyanna, and Ruby as her mother fixed bits on the dress that she claimed were 'wrong'.

"Beautiful," Dorota murmured.

"Yes, I agree – you're down to your ideal weight." Eleanor nodded appreciatively.

"I think she looks like a –"

"Princess, yes we know," Polly put in. Ruby glared at her.

Blair smiled indulgently at Ruby, who also looked lovely in a small white dress, with her hair up in a simple bun. She was holding Blair's bouquet in her hand. A bouquet of coral begonias with an elegant ivory bow tied to it.

Ruby smiled at Blair's dress. The dress was strapless with a beautiful beaded princess cut waist, the skirt opened up elegantly with detailed beading all around the edges.

"It's not my best work, by far, but I suppose it'll do," Eleanor commented.

"I feel like an intern once more," Polly commented, showing Blair her bandaged fingers.

It was Eleanor who carefully placed Blair's veil on her head, the pin softly entering Blair's perfect up do. Blair smiled at her mom, and Eleanor looked pleased.

"Didn't I say you would make a beautiful bride?" She asked Blair softly before bringing the veil forward and covering Blair's face.

"Thank you, Mom…" Blair said softly. "Thank you."

Eleanor nodded and turned to Polly and Ruby. "C'mon."

Ruby, smiling at Blair, walked to her and gave her the flowers. Blair smiled back and thanked her.

Blair looked on, once they had left her and turned to Dorota.

"This is it," Blair said softly. "I'm getting married. I'm marrying Chuck Bass."

Dorota went before her and looked at her with wide eyes. "Miss Blair – if you don't want to –"

"I do," Blair said suddenly. She took a sharp breath.

"Where are you going?" He asked from the bed, looking happy and sated. She slipped her shoes on, avoiding his look because his eyes always burned her. Plus, she knew he would easily convince her to stay. Entirely too easily.

"I'm going," she snapped at him. "Kati and Iz will barge in any moment."

His bare foot peaked out from under the sheets and caressed her thigh. She took in a sharp breath and moved away.

"Stop it," she warned him. That did it for him – he sat up and grabbed her, pulling her against him, nuzzling her neck as she feebly attempted to struggle.

"Bass –"

"Stay a bit," he whispered, tasting her skin, making her jump involuntarily.

"Why? We're not the cuddling types," she told him.

"Because I like how you feel in my arms," he confessed, kissing her shoulder once more.

She couldn't breathe because she had never felt so very loved and wanted. And his arms went around her and, though she would never confess it, she felt them too. You know, the butterflies.

"You say not a word. Not one."

Dorota looked at her with wide eyes. "You love him."

Blair looked down, trying to control herself. "He doesn't. So please, please pretend I didn't say that."

"Oh, Miss Blair," Dorota was gasping, a minute from crying herself.

"I'm ready." Blair shook, walking forward, bringing her dress with her.

"You have to tell him, Miss Blair!" Dorota urged her. Blair's soft eyes met hers and Dorota had to hold herself back from holding her like her own child.

"I'll never tell him," Blair nodded, holding on to her flowers tightly.

Blair stared at her, imploring her to just let it go, to please let it go for her sake, because she didn't know what had come over her. Who did she think she was, falling in love with a man who pretended to care for her? She was a mess – the severe lack of men around her had produced these results.

Dorota nodded at her and walked to the door, holding it opened for her. Blair took a sharp breath. The day meant to be the happiest day of her life was turning out to be a disaster. She was in love with her husband. Her husband was not in love with her.

She felt like she was sixteen once more; nearly engaged to Nathaniel Archibald, wearing the family ring, and suffocating.

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Chuck shifted from side to side as he waited. The entire village had been invited to the wedding. It was the least he could do – they were as close to having family around as he would ever get.

Jacob had done an awesome job setting up everything to Blair's specific wishes. From the coral-colored flowers to the classic details of an outdoor wedding surrounded by the Highlands.

The temperature was dropping, and Chuck knew that soon it would be too cold to wear normal garments. He was attempting to think of anything and everything other than the fact that he was waiting for Blair Waldorf to walk down the isle. To walk down the isle towards him. To become his. To belong to him – for him to belong to her.

His palms felt sweaty and hot at that same time.

His breath stopped short as the music began and those in attendance stood by as pretty little Ruby walked first with her little bouquet and smiling face.

And suddenly, there she was in the most beautiful gown he had ever seen her wear. And he'd seen her in a good many dresses. She was born to be a stunning bride.

"When I marry, I will look stunning!" Twelve year old Blair told a bored Chuck Bass.

"I don't really care, Waldorf – isn't this a Serena conversation?" Chuck Bass drawled, moving his chess piece strategically.

Blair raised a brow at his bold move. "Well played, Bass – anyone would think you wanted my king."

"My queen is desperate for your king," he smirked at her, sending her a wink – which he knew she hated.

"You're so heinous, Blass," she spat. "And you'll never win me over."

"If brave Nathaniel wasn't around, I'd have your attention," he kidded with her.

She rolled her eyes and moved one of her pawns. "Like you would ever marry."

"Fair enough – I will be a bachelor till I die. Plus, if I can't have you, why bother?" He raked his eyes over her legs, tucked under her; she managed to make that look elegant.

She pulled one leg out and kicked him. "I'd rather die than marry you, Chuck Bass!"

He laughed at her.

Chuck was pulled back from his memories – his lost and wounded childhood memories. That's when he realized something that he had hidden under decades of shells and protective walls.

"Jacob," Chuck said – as a statement, not a question.

Jacob quickly leaned in. "Sir?"

"I'm in love with her. Always have been… Always will be," Chuck whispered for his ears only. Jacob's mouth fell opened as he stared at Chuck – 101 thoughts running through his head.

"Sir… You have to tell her," Jacob urged. Chuck's eyes were glued to Blair's walking form, she was coming closer and closer, and he was pretty sure he would pass out.

"She doesn't love me, and you say not one word. Is that understood?" Chuck snapped at him.

Jacob swallowed and nodded, looking at ahead. Two lost souls. Two lost children that loved each other and neither would admit it to one another.

Everyone else saw it except them.

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To be continued