Disclaimer: I own none of this, otherwise it would have been stupid to read the books – I mean, they'd be mine.

Summary: More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

Pairings: Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D,)

Spoilers: Up until The Thin Line… and nothing more! I know nothing and I like it.

Thanks for reviewing, guys! You are seriously made of awesome. I love sitting around at works and browsing and especially reading your sweet and appreciated reviews! And also to gleechild for being an awesome, attentive beta.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Ivy Week

Spotted: Are B and C plotting again? You guys make my job so easy.

Chuck was only beginning to settle back into sleep after the loss of Nate to (ugh) exercise when his own phone sprang into life. Son of a bitch. Whoever it was, was about to get an earful. However, when he looked at the caller ID, his scowl transformed into a cheeky grin.

"Finally," he drawled.

"Good morning to you, too," Blair said, a smirk evident in her voice.

He stretched lazily, burying his face into the fluffy pillow. "I'll only forgive you for this ungodly hour if you're calling with details, of the juicy variety."

She was unbelievably not apologetic as she chirped, "More or less. Coffee?"

"I enjoy drinking it on occasion. Not very good for hangovers, though."

She chuckled. "Are you hung over right now?"

Chuck rubbed his eyelids, which were becoming uncomfortably heavy. How stupid would it be to fall asleep on her? She'd never let him live it down. "Not really, no. I would like to go back to sleep, though, if that's quite alright with you, Queen B."

"Actually, no," she said simply. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the city in the background. Figures she'd be up and about already. She probably made it a habit of waking up at the crack of dawn, eager to accomplish whatever the hell she was always accomplishing.

"No?" he asked. "Just like that? Don't I get a say in this?"

Stupid question, really. Blair actually laughed in amusement. "Since this happens to be the one morning a year in which you're lucid, you can come out for a coffee with me. Unless Jersey Tiger is still around?"

He sneered. "Of course not. It's morning. The sun hits and the girl splits."

Her eye-roll was almost audible, he swore. "Charming."

Chuck smirked. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Can I assume Princeton's not that great after all?"

"It was alright," he shrugged.

"Then are you still going to Yale with me in two years?" her voice dropped into that sweet girly hum she used when she wanted something from him. It was usually quite tempting to agree.

Hell, why not this time? It's not like he actually cared about college. Yale was far enough away from Bart Bass. "Well, since you so desperately want me around…" to make sure Nate had a reason to come visit her, he imagined.

She interrupted him. "So, will you meet me at Starbucks in twenty minutes?"

He let out a surprised snort of laughter. "What? Blair, I just woke up. And I'd still like to go back to sleep."

She huffed disapprovingly, "Oh, please. Indulgence is so unbecoming, not to mention totally last century. I'll give you thirty minutes."

Last century? Says who? He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You're way too used to things going your way, Waldorf." Sighing dramatically for effect, he announced: "Well, at the risk of giving you a complex, my answer is still a firm 'no'."

Blair sounded impatient. "Thirty-five? Come on, you could have been dressed and ready to go by now."

Sure, if he were a freak like her.

Chuck started to get up out of sheer instinct, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was acting like Blair's bitch, yet again. It was unheard of and unacceptable to be a girl's bitch without the promise of compensation. On the other hand, though, he did want to hear all the details. He frowned pensively. How did he surrender to her wishes without losing every last ounce of manly pride? Hmm.

A light-bulb came to life in his head. "I've got a better idea: let's turn coffee into breakfast-"

"Whatever, just-"

"-in my suite," he finished with a drawl.

"What?" she sputtered. "Uh, I'd really rather not."

Chuck grinned devilishly, wishing to God he could have seen her face right now. "It's called compromise, Waldorf. You should try it sometime," he said primly, solely to be annoying. "And you still owe me."

"What?" she asked again, clearly about to spontaneously combust. "But… Oh, hell no."

"Hell yes," he corrected. "See you in twenty." He snapped the phone shut before she could protest and laid back down in satisfaction. He remembered Serena's face as Blair sweetly (and systematically) tore apart her entire future with a shiny smile and his humble assistance. He thought, this oughta be good.

Knock, knock, knock.

"It's open!" Chuck called, having finally settled into a comfortable position.

"No, it isn't, you idiot."

Oh, right. Damnit. He managed to raise himself and barely made his way to the door, groaning all the way there. He opened it to find Blair tapping her foot impatiently, looking like she sprang right out of an old role of film with the flowery scarf, the sophisticated little bag, the old-school pearls…not to mention, those lips.

He smirked, granting her access with a bow. "Blair Waldorf, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

She walked in heftily and took in his striped pajamas. "Wish I could say the same for you," she tsked.

Chuck shrugged, "I apologize; I was under the impression that this was just a friendly breakfast."

"Really?" she made a big deal of widening her eyes. "I thought there was no such thing for you. I thought every friend had a possible benefit?"

His smirk widened predictably. "Well, then this morning just took an interesting turn. Please, make yourself at home. The whipped-cream will arrive shortly."

Her lips curled, "You're really heinous."

He winked, "Only in the sense that turns you on."

Blair rolled her eyes, grabbed some grapes (naturally) and took a seat on the couch her boyfriend vacated not long ago. "Were you really still in bed?" she asked, disbelieving.

"I'm still in bed." He answered, promptly lounging back into it. He raised an eyebrow and gestured at the spot next to him. "You're more than welcomed to join me."

She wisely ignored his latest come-on and instead focused on what she considered a sinful waste of time on his part. "You know, this apathetic attitude will get you nowhere in life."

Chuck frowned. He was already just where he wanted to be in her life. What was her problem? Was this a dig at Nathanial again?

Resorting to the one thing he knew irritated her for sure, he winked. "You know, if it weren't for your devilish traits and those ruby lips, I would have shunned you years ago." He made a show of running his eyes across the length of her, noticeably lingering at her legs, which were currently strapped in a pair of curve-hugging skinny jeans. "Those legs don't hurt either."

Blair promptly crossed them, unaware that it only made them sexier. Such innocence.

Nate was seriously an idiot. If his best friend wasn't pathetically hung up on Serena, Chuck would have been a bit wary about undressing with him in the room, if you catch my drift. "I still can't believe no one filmed the field-hockey throw-down," Chuck almost pouted, mourning the loss of a would-be great piece of soft porn. Teen Queens throwing down. Nice.

Blair smiled inscrutably. "Yeah, about that…"

He shook his head, his lips parting in a wistful smile. "The look on Serena's face was priceless." He raised his coffee cup in a toast. "Nice job, partner. Miss van der Woodsen is officially ruined. Persona non-grata, if you will."

"Strike that," Blair informed him simply.

He sat up enthusiastically, his toes curling at the prospect of more havoc to come. He knew there was a good reason to be conscious so early in the morning. "Ah, I see why you came here. Are we going to ruin her some more? Rub it in a little? Maybe create a pregnancy? A secret abortion? Sex tape?"

Blair shook her head, "Quite the opposite, actually. S is going back into fashion."

His mind came to a screeching halt. He frowned, "Excuse me?"

Blair smiled triumphantly. "I knew I could get your attention without having to lose my shirt." He was too stunned to even notice this obvious bait, which pleased Blair immensely. "All actions against Serena will cease as of now."

"What?"

Victory getting the better of her, she tore a hefty piece of a croissant and nibbled on it. "What's wrong, Chuck? You're usually so sharp… You must really not be a morning person."

He raised an eyebrow, "What is this?"

She shrugged, placing the croissant back on the plate. No need to lose her head, either. "Things change. Like I said, it was just a stupid, drunken mistake. Time to move on, yes?"

"Really?" His eyes twinkled condescendingly. "So it's all… water under the bridge? Just like that."

"Exactly like that," she stated, straightening in her seat.

Chuck tilted his head to the side. "How predictable."

Blair almost sputtered her orange juice. Of all the things she hated to hear about herself, predictable was right up there with fat. "What?"

Chuck shook his head, perversely pleased with himself for shocking the almighty Blair Waldorf. "You're regressing to your doormat days, Blair."

"What?" she almost shrieked. "I am not!" She shook her head, "I mean, I was never a doormat to begin with."

He smiled, almost affectionately. "Oh, yes, you were. You were Serena's reliable little friend."

Blair rolled her eyes, practically oozing impatience. "Stop trying to cause problems, Chuck. S and I are going to make up and everything will get back to the way is used to be, with no meddling whatsoever on your part. Understood?"

With a resigned sigh, he murmured, "Well, I must say it's… disappointing. I was having so much fun messing with Serena."

Blair waved her hand, dismissing him, and tried to ignore the way her stomach tightened uncomfortably. She hated when he questioned her decisions like that. "Oh, give me a break. You love Serena. There were no two bigger scoundrels than you guys, remember? All that boozing and partying?"

Like he even remembered half of it. "I daresay I moved on. Who cares about Serena?" he sneered.

"I do, thank you very much. She's my best friend?"

The notorious self-satisfied Bass smirk resurfaced yet again. "You sure about that?"

Blair's eyes darkened in warning. "Are we talking about things we shouldn't be talking about?"

Chuck shook his head. "No, ma'am. Regardless of the reason, Serena's been gone for a year."

"Point?"

"Putting aside the fact that said best friend left you without warning in your time of need…" he reminded her, as if she could ever forget, "It's been a very good year for you, am I wrong? From the Sidekick to Queen B?" he drawled.

Blair nervously popped a grape into her mouth, a sheer sign of uncertainty. She absently fingered the letter in her bag.

Chuck gaze turned more intense with each passing second. It made her quiver. "You've got the whole world wrapped around your little finger," he continued slowly. "You've got your little minions worshipping the ground on which you tread, you've become the It girl. Do you really want to give that up? For Serena? I'm sorry, to Serena?"

"It won't be like that," she choked.

"Serena's a bitch, Blair. Don't you remember?" he prodded, almost kindly.

"She's changed."

"No one changes."

She tilted her head, regaining control of herself. He was just spewing nonsense, as per usual. Just because he wouldn't hesitate to betray and lie didn't mean Serena would do those things. Serena was her friend, always had been, always would be.

"Weren't you just going on about how much I've changed?" she asked, smiling coldly.

Chuck refused to fold and let her have her way. "You didn't change; you just finally got your opportunity to shine. I wouldn't throw it away so quickly if I were you." He leaned back on the pillow, having accomplished his mission. She was now obviously having doubts. "Bu-t, if you say the hazing stops, it stops. After all, you're the boss. At least for now. Pass the blueberry syrup?"

Blair tossed him the bottle without thinking, utterly shell-shocked. Chuck caught it and absently poured some on his pancakes, waiting patiently for reality to set in.

A while, and some grapes, later, she finally broke the silence. "At the risk of sounding clichéd, do you really think she'll..."

"Try and take over? Yes," he said simply, barely looking up from his food. "She'll hog you, drag you around, and always keep you one step behind her. It's Serena; it's what she does."

"But I need her," Blair said, her voice almost inaudible. "Serena's the only one I can talk to."

Chuck sucked in a breath dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. "Excuse me? And what am I?"

"A conniving hellion who can't be trusted?" she asked, smiling sweetly, almost fondly. At his cocked eyebrow, she shook her head. "Besides, you and me, best friends? What's wrong with this picture?"

"Nothing, as far as I can see." He winked, "We make a good team, don't we?"

She laughed because it was ridiculously true. They ran a vivid underground operation with the goal of absolute domination, and without anyone being the wiser. "We really do, but there's a world of difference."

"I see," he nodded, indulging her. "So, in your reality, a friend is someone who uses you and then tosses you aside as an afterthought? Huh." He lied back, contemplating this twisted way of thinking. It did explain a lot, though.

Blair's brow furrowed in concentration as she reached for another batch of grapes. Why did he always do this? She had been so sure when she left the house. She was going to talk this thing out with Serena and make her apologize at least one more time before she forgave her. Actually, that was the test. If Serena asked for forgiveness again, thus proving that she hadn't given up, Blair would relent.

But now…

Studiously avoiding his gaze, she asked: "What's the point of having everything if it's not really mine?" Then her eyes accidentally connected with his.

Chuck's eyes bore into hers. "It is yours. You took it, fair and square. You have every right to try and keep it."

Blair tilted her head, lips pursed skeptically. "Why do you care so much?" she asked. "You should be ecstatic."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm only looking out for your best interests."

Ha! Yeah, right. She actually giggled at this. "And seriously folks?"

Chucked leaned in conspiratorially. "I am serious. I like the new Waldorf," he drawled, grinning devilishly. "She's a keeper, that one. There's never a dull moment with her around."

"Oh, please," she rolled her eyes. "Then why are you always complaining about how dull things are?"

"Because I like the sound of my own voice. Learn to read between the lines, Waldorf."

"I don't know," she said playfully. "It seems dangerous to go beneath the surface with you. I mean, if you're so dirty on the outside, what the hell am I gonna find inside?"

He smirked, "Not much, I assure you. I'm a pretty straightforward kind of guy."

"I don't believe that for a second, Chuck Bass. What's hiding under there?"

"Under here?" he asked innocently, fingering the collar of his shirt. He popped open one of the buttons, revealing a hint of chest. "A toned, incredibly enticing body, eager to pleasure you."

"Nice attempt to distract me," she said, giggling at the most ridiculous display of swagger ever. "But, thank God, I'm immune to your blunt harassments by now."

"Really?" Chuck drawled, his eyes twinkling with unreleased laughter. "How about now?" he popped another button, trying his best to keep a straight face. It was hard to appear smoldering and mysterious when Blair was practically doubled over in laughter.

Blair covered her face in one of the sofa pillows to stifle her giggling. Chuck Bass was stripping for her!

"You know, this is not the reaction I usually get," Chuck informed her seriously, though it was obvious he was barely containing his own glee. "This is downright wounding, Waldorf."

She pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, "Would it help if I stuck this down your pants?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Seriously, though," Blair continued after regaining her composure, smoothing over the outrageous display of skin as if it never happened. She considered this a personal favor, as the blackmail material would have taken months to get old. It was a friend of Blair's discount, as far as she was concerned. But she would only be forgiving once. "Someday you'll open up and say something totally embarrassing that you'll live to regret. And I'll be right there, filming it all."

He sneered, "Hell, if that happens, I'll tip off Gossip Girl myself."

"Only because she's the only girl you've ever loved," she retaliated.

"After you, of course."

"Of course."

He blew her an air-kiss.

She rolled her eyes and got up. "Anyway, I'm off to make peace with Serena. Thanks for breakfast-"

"Which you haven't touched."

Blair took a few steps towards him, her hips swaying slightly. "So this is your bed, huh?"

Whoa. Thankfully, Chuck had enough control over himself to make sure the blood rushed only to his head as opposed to absolutely forbidden areas of his anatomy. What was Nate thinking?

He ran his tongue across his lower lip, "Why, yes. Yes, it is. Like it?"

Her smile turned derogative within seconds. She tossed the hundred-dollar bill at him, hitting him square in his still exposed chest. "Still looks infested to me. Leaving!" she chirped, her voice teeming with mirth. She was gone within seconds, tossing her hair back.

Chuck lied back down with a sigh, smiling absent-mindedly. He never had as much fun as he did this last year with this perfect, preppy girly-girl who turned out to be worse than him, on some occasions. Some of the things she thought up were downright… cosmically mean. Lovely.

He did hope Serena would leave some Blair for the rest of them.

What's that purple button? Aren't you kinda curious about it? I mean, it could be anything!