Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

A/N: a smidgen of Chuck/Blair in this one... actually, it's more like a dot. even though this chapter didn't quite go the way i intended, hope you enjoy it anyway.

diremption.

The bartender slides him a drink across the sleek wood of the counter top and Chuck watches, slightly detached and yet still completely interested, as he sees Nate approach Vanessa, Nate's stride filled with purpose and confidence. The only thing that settles Chuck stomach is the knowledge that Nate's "confidence" is feigned, that he is not nearly as sure of himself as he'd like people to think he is.

Chuck thinks nothing of their encounter at first; he frowns but doesn't make a move from his seat as Nate's hand falls to the small of Vanessa's back. Chuck's interest is only piqued to dangerous levels when he notices that after fifteen minutes, they still haven't come back in from outside. His frown deepens.

The next sip from the drink goes down with difficulty as an unfamiliar lump lodges itself in his throat. Chuck has never quite been in tune to his feelings or emotions - only his wants - and he is suddenly uncomfortable with the idea that he doesn't like Vanessa being alone with Nate and would rather have her to himself.

Chuck chokes down the rest of his drink, hoping to dislodge the lump from its place in the middle of his throat.

When it doesn't feel as though that's working, he signals the bartender for yet another drink.

She answers the phone on the third ring, and he imagines her anxiously reaching for it on the first, but deciding against it at the last second, probably wanting Chuck to sweat it out a little.

"What do you want, Chuck?" Blair is trying to sound menacing, attempting to snarl and intimidate him, but Chuck can just as easily picture her smiling in spite of her tone; she likes this, the back and forth banter that's almost like foreplay. He knows her too well, he thinks.

"Hello to you, too."

"Oh, don't act coy; it doesn't suit you." She is quiet for a moment and he thinks that she's probably sitting down, getting comfortable, preparing herself to talk to him and get into yet another verbal battle of wills. "Chuck. What do you want?"

Something about the tone of Blair's voice indicates that whatever he wants, it wouldn't be all that difficult for him to obtain it. He called Blair with the intention of just that firmly in his mind but suddenly, having it placed right in front of him, Chuck hesitates. He pauses.

It's certainly the first time that's ever happened.

"Tonight? Nothing from you. Goodnight, Blair." He hangs up abruptly, before she can say much of anything, but this time he's thinking nothing of their little game, isn't up to switching the roles of cat and mouse.

He tells his driver to turn the car around and stumbles out onto the familiar streets of Brooklyn. He's a lot drunker than he realized when he finds himself tripping over the curb, and after pushing the buzzer twice to Vanessa's apartment, he's starting to doubt if he even has the right place. That is, until he hears her voice.

He hears her sigh through the intercom, surprised that he finds that he would much rather see her face, would prefer to feel her sigh against him. "Chuck. It's late. Go home."

"It's early. Come down."

"No."

"Why are you hiding from me?"

"I'm not hiding from you, Chuck. I'm tired."

"The Golden Boy wear you out? Does he know that you like to-"

"Chuck. Go home. You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk. And Nate isn't what you think he is. He's not some demigod among mere mortals," he sneers. But Chuck decides that now is not the moment for him to dwell on the temporary rush of jealousy he feels toward Nate Archibald - or, why, exactly Chuck feels any jealousy at all.

Vanessa is quiet for a moment. "That's funny, because he said the same thing about you."

"That I'm a god? I'm flattered."

The intercom crackles heavy static as she lets out a laugh. "You know, you're not nearly as cute as you think you are, Chuck."

"So I've been told. Let me up."

"Why? You being with me at three in the morning when no one knows about it isn't gonna make Blair want to be with you."

"Maybe that's not what I want."

She sighs again and he feels the odd lump in his throat return at the sound. "You don't know what you want."

There isn't much he can say to that.

"Goodnight Chuck."

He pauses, before admitting his defeat and nodding, drunkenly solemn. "Goodnight, Vanessa."