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: enjoy reading and review, all.

double.

"...I just think that you're afraid to be happy," Blair admits quietly. She leans toward Chuck but keeps her hands flat against the bar's counter top, still unrelenting and never wavering when it comes to showing any shred of vulnerability in front of him. Every move of hers is calculated, Chuck notes pointedly.

"Why do you care if I'm happy?"

She doesn't respond because she doesn't know or have the answer. It's not a question that she's prepared for. She doesn't know why she cares so much but she does know that she shouldn't even though she can't seem to stop. He will ruin her, certainly. Destroy her, possibly. But in spite of Blair's own reasoning, she does care. She supposes that's why she leans in towards him, pushing his drink to the side and placing his face between her hands. On the inside, she burns with satisfaction at the fact that Chuck isn't fighting her, and Blair slowly lets her lips touch his and it's not long before she's wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

The kiss lasts heatedly for a few seconds before it's over; she's not entirely sure which one of them pulls away first but Blair does know she can feel a burgeoning sense of guilt that seems to come over her.

"Killing two birds with one stone?" The question seems to come out of nowhere and she tilts her head, confused.

"Excuse me?"

He holds up his phone, with a very recent Gossip Girl blast on the screen which happens to be a photo of Nate and Vanessa: Is N trading in the Queen B for the Princess of BK? "If I've seen it, I know you have."

Blair's face is a mask of perfectly schooled innocence. "What does that have to do with-"

"It has everything to do with why you're here, with me."

"I already told you why I'm here, Chuck."

"Oh please. I know you, Blair. This-" He gestures between them. "- is more about solidifying your relationship with Nate than it is about us."

"I thought there was no 'us'."

"There isn't. You couldn't come up with something more original than trying to use me to make him jealous?"

"You're deflecting."

"You're pathetic. It's unbecoming."

"Sounds like you're confusing me with Vanessa."

"I don't want to talk about Vanessa."

"Sore spot?" Blair asks unkindly. She watches as Chuck stirs the drink in his hand. "...There could be something here, though, I think. Between us."

He takes a long and slow sip of his drink, choosing not to respond. "Think about it." Blair rests her hand on his shoulder for the briefest of seconds before sliding off the bar stool and leaving him behind, stepping out into the night.

Nate is the one who kisses her first, and Vanessa doesn't think or care to ask about Blair this time as her tongue searches out his. His hands slide through her hair and she tilts her head and opens her mouth just a little to deepen the kiss and she isn't as certain of her motives as she thought she would be when this moment happens. But when Nate pulls back, seconds later, and just says, "Ness," she grabs his hand and moves toward her door.

"Upstairs?"

He nods.

Once upstairs, they makes their way towards her bed. Their kisses are exploring, slow and sweet not at all comparable to the ones she shares with Chuck - a thought that Vanessa almost hates herself for having.

Vanessa pulls back a bit, angling her head so that she can rest her forehead against Nate's. They're not kissing anymore and the silence of her apartment has suddenly amplified threefold. She's opening her mouth to speak when she notices something out of the corner of her eye. On her bed lies a gift bag, a scrap of very familiar purple fabric peeking out rather obviously over the side.

She scoffs, having the sneaking suspicion that she already knows what it is before she steps away from Nate and walks towards it.

"Is that… yours?" Nate asks skeptically. "Because it kind of looks like—"

He stops and she can feel his eyes on her as she lifts the bag, inspecting it carefully. There's a card attached to its handle. Of course there is, Vanessa thinks sardonically, biting her lip. She opens it slowly, feeling about five levels of apprehensive about what it says:

I don't usually re-gift… but I didn't think you'd mind a little something to commemorate the evening.

It isn't signed but there's only one person Vanessa can think of that it can be from; there aren't many people whose hotel rooms which she left her underwear in, anyway. Chuck. It had to be.

Bastard.

"That was you," Nate says with a frown, bringing her out of her thoughts, and the statement sounds oddly enough like an accusation.

"What?"

"Earlier today, in Chuck's hotel room…He was acting kind of weird, well more than his usual self and I had a feeling that he was hiding someone but I had no idea why—that was you."

She doesn't deny it. She doesn't know what to say, anyway.

"I don't get it. What is it about him?"

"Funny, he says the same thing about you," Vanessa mutters.

"Why were you hiding the fact that you were over there? I don't understand." He shakes his head, eyebrows drawing together before bringing his gaze up to meet hers. "There's more to this thing between you and Chuck than you're telling me, isn't there?" She doesn't deny that either. She couldn't, even if she wanted to. (She almost hates herself for that, too.)

She drops her bag on the bartop without preamble and he holds back a sigh at being interrupted yet again, but doesn't bother lifting his head to face her. "How did you know I'd be here?" he asks instead.

"This is the bar where you come to brood." Vanessa takes a breath before turning to face him, arms crossed over her chest. "You're a real bastard, you know that?"

"I take it you got my gift?"

Vanessa scowls at Chuck's smug tone.

"What, no 'thank you'? I thought those were your favorite pair."

"Nate was with me when I found your little gift bag. I mean, never mind how you even got into my apartment-"

He closes what little distance there is between them and Vanessa hates that she is so affected by a simple half-lidded gaze and the rough timbre of his voice. "I'm Chuck Bass. Nowhere in this city is off limits."

"I don't want to play games anymore, Chuck," Vanessa says softly and she tells herself that she means it. When it comes to him - to Chuck - she has to mean it.

"Oh, please. Stop trying to act like you're miss sweetness and light who simply got caught up in the wrong crowd. You asked for this. We both know you love the games. We both know just how much you really do want to be a part of this world. And you hate it, but you can't deny it. Just like you can't deny how much you get off on it."

"Screw you."

He smirks. "Righteous indignation is a good color on you."

Vanessa scoffs. "Is this you trying to win me back? Because if it is, I've got to tell you, you have a really shitty way of going about making that happen."

Chuck shakes his head, swallowing back what's left of the drink in his glass. "...Can't get back what was never yours to begin with."