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: sorry this took longer to post than I thought it would. but as always, enjoy and review. :)

dyad.

"Come on." Chuck slides his arm around Vanessa's back. It doesn't take much effort for him to steer her away from the ballroom filled with people and walk towards the elevators.

"But, we just got here—" Vanessa frowns, looking over her shoulder at the sound of a sudden swell of applause.

"Aren't you the one who said you had better things to do with your time?"

"Yes, but I thought that you were the one who wanted—" She stops as he tugs on her arm and gently pulls her into the elevator lift with him. He doesn't want to be here, not tonight, with Blair breathing down his neck, questioning his motives and trying to intimidate Vanessa with the utmost subtlety of an Upper East Side queen.

"What are you doing?" she asks him, softly, her gaze dropping to his lips.

He pulls her toward him, aligning her body with his and eliminating any extra space between them. "Proving what I want."

"... And your drink, madam."

This is exactly the kind of cheesy line that would have earned him a smile two years ago, but instead Blair takes the glass from Nate's hands gracefully, without so much as a thank you or quirk of the lips or any acknowledgment of his presence.

Nate watches with interest as she swallows nearly half of her drink in one gulp. She's bothered by something, and Nate has it on good authority that whatever it is, has less to do with him and more to do with the fact that Chuck has just disappeared behind elevator doors, his arm wrapped around the waist of someone who definitely isn't Blair.

"What's wrong?" He asks anyway, because it is his role as the dutiful and loyal boyfriend, and Nate doesn't really know how to play the part of anything else.

"What?"

"You look upset."

"What? No, I'm fine. More than fine," Blair insists. She reaches her arms up, wrapping them around his neck and if he closes his eyes, Nate can swear it feels just like it did two years ago.

"You're not at all bothered by the fact that Chuck is leaving?" He deliberately avoids the words "with Vanessa" because this is the part that bothers him the most, though he knows, for all intents and purposes, that it shouldn't.

"Of course not." Nate narrows his eyes in suspicion, not quite sure if he can believe what she says anymore. Though, honestly, he can't really blame her because there's no way he could tell her who he's really thinking about, either.

He tastes like scotch.

She slowly runs her tongue across her bottom lip, savoring his taste for a moment before pulling away and putting just enough distance between them for Vanessa to be able to look him in the eyes without much effort. She doesn't normally like the taste of scotch but if she can taste it on him she thinks she'd make an exception. In a sudden moment of bravery and boldness, she tells him this, her fingers toying with the buttons of his silk shirt.

"You're drunk," he laughs into her ear.

Vanessa chooses to ignore the nervous chill that runs over her, attributing it to the cool air and her lack of any substantial clothing, and nothing else.

"Am not."

"Prove it."

"Fine," she counters, childishly, and proceeds to walk forward without him, determined to prove him wrong.

She stumbles. He catches her. "Lightweight," he murmurs, but she refuses to associate the tone he's using with the word 'affection' - not with Nate's voice in the back of her mind, riddled with concern, with conviction, letting her know that Chuck being affectionate is pretty much impossible. "You really think that Chuck cares that much about you?"

The problem with 'pretty much' is that it is not the same as 'definite' and the Scotch is making a normally cynically realistic Vanessa feel almost hopeful. Or, maybe it's something else that's making her feel that way. She licks her lips again, feeling heady. "So, now that you've gotten me completely sloshed what do you plan to do with me?"

"'Sloshed'?"

"Take me home, Chuck," she murmurs, her lips brushing against his. It is less of an order and more of a request but all the same she is finding it harder and harder to ignore how much she wants him right now.

"As you wish."

Vanessa awakes with her face resting against Chuck's bare abdomen, legs sprawled across the bed and entwined with his. Her feet are cold.

It is one of those rare mornings where she awakes with him in her bed, even rarer is the fact that she finds herself feeling devoid of regret or shame. Last night, leaving the gala and everything else behind, was good for them. She thinks.

She shivers, sliding closer to him, and pulling her down comforter around the two of them, before a frown settles over her face as she tries to figure why she's even awake so early.

Before she can lay her head back down on Chuck's chest, she is startled by the sound of the incessant and obnoxious buzzer, letting her know that someone downstairs wanted in and wasn't going to let up until she answers.

She climbs out of bed reluctantly, leaving behind a still slumbering Chuck and wrapping herself in a terry cloth robe.

A hand pressed to her slightly aching forehead, she manages to pull herself together enough to ask, in a slightly husky tone, "Who is it?"

Static and city noise fill the silence of Chuck's hotel suite before she hears his voice, strong, gallant, and confident even at nine in the morning:

"...It's Nate."

Well, shit.