A/N: Sorry for the wait; I;m a little stressed by school right now. This is where it starts to get good. Reviews are love.
She wakes up alone in his bed, feeling much more at peace than she has in a long time, despite the way her eyes ache from the tears she's cried.
She pulls her hair into a ponytail and glances around the room for something to hold it back. She snatches up an abandoned bowtie and manages to loop it several times around her tangled gold locks. It's at that moment that she notices a tall glass of cranberry juice and a chocolate-filled croissant on the bedside table. She smiles. Sweet and sour, just the way she likes things; a girl could get used to this.
Chuck walks in, his dress shirt unbuttoned, towel-drying his hair. Her smile brightens as she pouts sarcastically: "Aw. Too bad. I was actually going to say yes to a joint shower today."
He points a finger toward her and scowls. "Not funny, sis."
"Kinda funny," she protests childishly, winking at him as she swings her legs over the side of the bed and rests her feet on the floor.
"You're feeling better," Chuck observes, but arches his eyebrows, waiting for confirmation.
"Yeah," she replies, her toes tapping out a random rhythm against the soft carpet. "Thanks,' she adds in a more serious tone of voice. She's not really used to this side of her step-brother; she's full of gratitude but is also struck by the oddness of the whole experience.
He nods and looks like he has more to say, but he's interrupted when Erik walks in without preamble.
Serena's little brother stops short and squints at them in confusion. She feels her heart pounding in her chest, feels the heat rising in her cheeks. She resists the temptation to grab the glass of juice and gulp it down. She tries to reason with herself. Erik hasn't really walked into anything incriminating. They look normal, they must.
The younger van der Woodsen speaks after what seems like an eternity; "It's seven fifteen."
Both Serena and Chuck, who'd normally have an easy, teasing remark at the ready, stare blankly back at him, wordlessly demanding, And?
"It's seven fifteen," Erik repeats, almost in wonderment, "and you guys aren't fighting over Serena's bathroom."
Her breath leaves her lungs in a huge gush. "Ha ha," she says dryly. When she's gotten her centre of gravity back, she stands and reaches out to ruffle his hair.
Chuck laughs deep in his throat at the sour expression Erik makes. She balks, pretending to be offended, but can't help but laugh as well as she asks, "What? I though messy was cool."
Erik and Chuck exchange a bemused look that lets her know how wrong she is. She doesn't care. She loves how good Chuck is to Erik, how god he's been for Erik. She just shrugs off her blunder and smiles softly at them both. She may have no knowledge of the male hair fashions that are in vogue, but she does know how good it is to have someone else looking out for Erik's well-being.
She goes back to her own room to get dressed before joining her whole family at the breakfast table. She's in a good mood. She and Erik and Chuck joke and laugh boisterously over the course of the meal while Lily and Bart look on with expressions that indicate their puzzlement, but also how pleased they are.
Erik says something that thoroughly cracks her up, so much so that her abs, throat, and cheeks positively ache. "Haven't heard that laugh in while," Chuck comments casually, but in a way that is unmistakably complimentary, and she blushes without really knowing why.
She talks so much that she doesn't have a lot of time to actually eat. She sneaks back into Chuck's room to grab the croissant before they leave.
It's a rare occasion that she rides to school in the limo with Chuck and Erik; as she sits between them, she marvels at how happy and comfortable she feels, what a natural vibe it has to it.
Erik's cell phone rings halfway through the ride. A small, private smile appears on his face and he inches away to continue his conversation.
"You looked caught." Chuck speaks quietly, leaning in so close that his breath tickles her ear.
Her head snaps toward his; their noses brush. "Excuse me?" she hisses back, making sure to monitor Erik in her peripheral vision. He's wrapped up in his phone call, oblivious to them.
"This morning," Chuck clarifies with a devious smirk. His fingers drum lightly against her bare knee. "When Erik walked in, you looked as though you'd been caught…in the act."
It crosses her mind that she should make him move his hand, but she doesn't. "And what act would that be?" she asks instead, as evenly as possible. She sounds a little bit coy to her own ears and hopes that's not how her words come across.
"Mm, well…you tell me," he suggests, voice thick.
She's saved from answering when they pull up at the school. Erik ends his phone conversation and turns back to them. Chuck's hand flies off her knee as if he's been burnt.
Erik says goodbye for the day and gets out first. Chuck follows him and holds the door for her. He manages to simultaneously close the door behind her and make her take a step back, so that her body is tapped between his and the limo. "I think you owe me an answer," he states cheekily.
"And I think you know the answer," she says, lifting her chin defiantly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means…that you looked caught." She parrots his words back to him with a smirk of her own and elaborates without being asked. "When Erik turned around just now, you looked like you'd been caught…in the act."
It's as if he has some soft of supernatural sense, a magnetism that directs him toward bare skin. His fingers deftly find the space between the hem of her white shirt and the waistband of her pleated plaid skirt, kneading into her flesh just above her hipbone. He looks amused by her facial expression and the way her body's reacting; there is a light in his eyes as he lazily asks, "And what act is that?" even though his hands already seem to know the answer.
Her back presses firmly against the black vehicle and something changes, in his face, his eyes and the way his mouth is set. Her breathing gets a little shallower and a shock of anticipation courses rapidly through her body.
Blair chooses that moment to approach them; eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them, she wears an unimpressed frown. "Chuck. Serena." Her words of greeting are someone both individual and collective.
Chuck's fingers are now barely grazing her skin. "Blair," he returns, addressing the brunette in the tone they seem to reserve specifically for one another, fondness and indifference all at once.
"Hey, B.," Serena says because she knows they're both expectantly waiting for her to speak up.
"How are you, S.?" Blair asks with just the right degree of concern. She loops her arms gently through Serena's and guides her up the steps of Constance Billard and all the way to their first period class, keeping up a steady train of trivial chatter that Serena doesn't really have to tune into.
They're fifteen minutes into the definition of the derivative when she finally realizes that she was waiting for him to kiss her.
~x~
Dan is still angry. He keeps shooting her these deep, wounded glances.
She shoots him her own right back. They're at a stalemate, an impasse; no one's winning. Serena's right and she knows it. There is no way in hell that she's going to apologize, and she's starting to realize that he isn't going to be extending any olive branches soon.
Her good mood slowly fades away, but she tries to hold on to at least some of her happiness, tries to take herself back to that morning. She passes notes to Blair all through their third period French class, trying to distract herself. They talk about basic things – the gossip Serena's missed while she was busy having her breakdown, the dresses Blair wants to buy at Bendel's, little Jenny Humphrey's progress in the big bad world of the UES.
They make a shopping date and Blair promises to buy her yoghurt and coffee at lunchtime. When the class is over and the bell rings, Blair stands up and gives her an impulsive hug. It doesn't last very long, but it's obviously heartfelt.
"I'm glad you're feeling better, S. You don't have to worry about anything, you know that, right?" She smiles. "I'm just glad to have you back."
She doesn't feel as good as Blair thinks she does, but it's clear that Blair's in a good place and she refuses to ruin that. She simply smiles back and says, with as much enthusiasm as she can, "Glad to be back, B."
The hallways are quiet, emptying quickly as their fellow students rush out, making the most of their lunch hour. Blair capitalizes on the opportunity for privacy, quietly announcing, "Look…there's something I want to talk to you about."
She looks uncharacteristically nervous, so Serena musters up her sincerest smile as she dumps her books unceremoniously into her locker. "You can tell me anything. You've been a big help to me lately. Let me help you."
"Right. Yeah. Okay." Blair sighs and admits, "It's Chuck."
Serena feels herself closing off before she even has time to think about her reaction. "Oh?" she asks stiffly. "What about Chuck?"
Blair rolls her eyes, though she still looks nervous. "Come on, S., you're not that dense. You know what."
An unbidden smile tugs her lips upward. "Yeah, I do. I'm sorry. So…?"
"So...I was just…I was wondering what you think. About Chuck…and…me. And what you think he's thinking, about…me." She takes a deep breath, relieved to have blurted it all out, and waits.
"I…well…um…I…"
"You've been spending a lot of time with him lately," she points out.
"Yeah, he's been really great. But…you all have. I don't…I don't really know. I'm sorry," she adds, but the thing is, she's not.
Dan appears in the hallway and for the first time all day she's glad to see his brooding face. She doesn't know if he's there to pick a fight with her or to find Jenny, but it doesn't matter really, not at all. His presence alone gives her an excuse to flee. She mutters an excuse to Blair and is out of there as fast as her long legs can carry her.
~x~
Chuck is outside during their lunch hour, leaning back against his limo like he's waiting for her. She marches straight toward him without a second thought, relieved to have a focus.
He lifts his eyebrows, giving her the first word.
She plants on hand on her hip and gets right down to it. "I have Calc and Shakespeare last two periods."
"Boring," he remarks as his dark eyes meet ehrs.
She agrees: "Pointless."
"Miss-able," he says with a short, knowing laugh, smirking as he swings the door open for her.
Serena slips in, but not before catching the confusion in Nate's eyes as he watches from afar.
"So where to, sis?" Chuck smarms, inching closer to her. She stretches her legs out across the seat so that her calves rest across his laps and shrugs.
"You pick…bro."
He thinks it over for a moment, and she can practically see the possibilities running through his mind. Finally, he suggests something she never even considered: "Why don't we just go…home?"
She understands fully why it's such a strange proposition. Chuck's been living in his own suite at the Palace for years now. And she, she's always been a party girl, never a homebody. Always on the move, always on the run – 'home' was always empty of under renovation. It was never her safe haven.
But she realizes, as she leans back, resting her aching head against the cool glass of the tinted window, how things have shifted in her world.
"Sounds perfect," she murmurs. She lets her eyes flutter closed and feels his hand land lightly on her leg.
~x~
She goes directly to his room as if it's the most natural thing in the world. He doesn't comment on that, or the fact that her things seem to be slowly moving in with her as well. She spots two of her shirts, a bra, school books, her favourite lip gloss, her monogrammed towels.
He doesn't say much at all, just makes White Russians and stretches out on the bed, mimicking her sprawled-out position.
"How are you?" he asks, and the earnest way he speaks makes her giggle like she's already intoxicated.
"Are we really going to have that conversation?"
"Guess not," he comments with a contemplative smile before musing, "You know, sis, you're much more open at night…not that I object."
She lifts her hand to whack his shoulder, but she gets tired when it's halfway there and it gently makes contact with his upper arm instead, lingering there for a moment.
He looks at her hand, furrowing his brow, and she yanks it back. She sets her drink aside and flops over onto her back in one fluid moment, letting both hands fall to cover her face as she groans. "If I just stop going to school will they pass me anyway?"
He chuckles. "Yes. They probably would."
She smiles wryly in spite of herself. "Dan would hate that."
"Dan's a Humphrey," he replies softly, but not in an insulting way; it's not meant to sting her or to put Dan down. It's just fact.
"You know what's funny?" she asks rhetorically, voice muffled behind her hands. "I thought Dan was the safe choice. The good guy."
"Serena," he says, and then stops. It takes her a moment to realize that he's about to say something he thinks she won't like. She doesn't say a word, just waits for it, basking in the shiver that shoots down her spine at the husky way he says her name. She's exhausted, and maybe a little out of it. She closes her eyes and just waits.
Finally, he begins again. "I know this isn't what you want to hear." There's a pause. "But did it ever occur to you that you're not meant to have the 'good guy'?" The last two words have a mocking edge to them.
She peeks at him through her eyelashes, opening her eyes the smallest amount. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demands, but she's too sleepy to be forceful.
"Being the good girl isn't always the best choice, you know," he states, making it clear that he didn't mean to offend her. "Not if it means making sacrifices."
"I don't understand," she murmurs, voice thick as she starts to drift off. She can't get enough sleep these days.
"You're a good person, S." His words are quiet and packed with truth, his lips close to her ear as he moved to lie next to her. "You're good to Erik and to Blair…and to me. But being a good person doesn't mean you've got to be the 'good girl'. You've been holding back since boarding school, I can see it, and doesn't that make you unhappy?" There is an innocent inquiry in his voice. "Stop pretending and just let yourself be who you really are, even if it's not the girl who the 'good guy' wants. You can be good at being bad. You can have both, and I've seen it in you; I've known you forever. I know who you are."
That's the last thing she hears, words resounding in her head, echoing in her mind. With a weary sigh, she tucks her head into his shoulder and lets slumber claim her, thoughts of who she used to be flashing behind her closed eyelids.
~x~
"Serena. Serena."
She wakes up, bleary-eyed and fuzzy-minded, still snuggled under a couple sheets, laying sideways across her step-brother's bed. She doesn't know how long he's been up, but he looks much more alert than she does, freshly dressed and eyes alert.
"Mm?" she murmurs as she pushes herself into a sitting position, and his eyes soften as if he thinks she looks cute or something.
"Blair's here, she wants to talk to you."
She looks down at the bed she lies on, looks at her rumpled shirt, and thinks of Blair's nervousness regarding Chuck earlier. "Buy me a couple minutes, okay?" she asks absently as she hops off the bed and grabs a nearby shirt that she left there two days ago. She starts unbuttoning the blouse she's currently wearing and she notices a pause in his footfalls before he slips out the door to entertain Blair.
Serena tugs the thin black tank over her head and rushes into the bathroom. She looks fairly presentable. Her hair is wispy and looks purposefully messy, as always. She splashes some cold water into her eyes and tugs her knee socks off; she never wears those at home.
"Hey, B.," she chirps as she emerges into the living room, looking as peppy as possible.
Blair's eyes rake over her critically. "You look better," she remarks as Serena joins her on the couch.
"I feel better," Serena replies strongly.
The brunette nods as Chuck stops hovering and leaves the room, giving them space to talk. "So, um…what was up with early? You completely abandoned me in the hallway." She lifts her eyebrows. Serena can tell that she's trying to hold back her judgment.
"I know, B.," she responds with a genuine apology in her voice. "It's just…I know you said not to worry, but everything's still getting me. With Georgina…especially with Dan…" She swallows hard and sighs. She's honestly upset, but the puppy dog eyes she gives her best friend are a bit of an exaggeration.
Blair softens quickly. "Serena, you should have said something."
She shrugs. "You've just been so helpful, I didn't want…I just needed to escape for a little bit," she admits truthfully, glancing down.
Blair sighs sympathetically and reaches out, opening her arms, "Come here."
Serena sinks into her hug gratefully, but feels Blair stiffen after only a few seconds. She pulls back. "What is it?"
Her friend's eyes are fixed on the back of her head. "What's that?" she asks in a strange, small voice.
She lifts her hand until her fingers find it: the bowtie that is still holding her ponytail in place. Her style has always been careless perfection, and she didn't bother changing from her original hairstyle from first thing in the morning.
"Is it…" Blair is impatiently waiting for an answer she can't seem to voice herself.
"It's just Chuck's bowtie," Serena says, struggling to remain breezy and calm. She doesn't want to hurt Blair, she really doesn't, but she's feeling viciously protective of her own heart these days, and she doesn't want to give anything away. "It's a long story…a stupid one. It's nothing."
Blair flinches and Serena winces internally as well. It's nothing is always, without fail, code for something else.
"Okay," Blair says stiffly, painting on another smile, the best one she can. "I just wanted to check in with you. I have to go, Dorota's waiting, I've got things to do."
They stand at the exact same time; graciously, Serena replies, "Of course. Thanks, B."
"Yeah," the brunette says softly, and in a rapid whirl of perfume, a Birkin bag, and the movement of her long black coat, Blair disappears.
Chuck comes up behind her moments later; she jumps, startled, and mutters a couple expletives halfheartedly. She props her elbows on her knees and rests her chin in her hands, worriedly about what's just happened.
He doesn't say anything at first, just toys gently with his bowtie, still in her hair. Part of her expects him to tug it out, and she can't lie: she's relieved when he doesn't. "Everything alright?" he finally asks cautiously, and all she can do is shrug.
~x~
She feels a strange adrenaline rush, the kind that stems from the excitement of uncertainty, for the rest of the evening. It's as if her body and her subconscious have made a decision that her mind is not yet privy to; she's just waiting to catch up.
Her mother and step-father both comment that she appears more cheerful – if not a little more jumpy – than she has in days, and they're right. They both smile when she shrugs casually. Lily kisses the crown of her head and Bart touches her shoulder in a fatherly way.
They eat dinner as a family, which is a little odd – usually all three kids are out and about, and none of them are willing to eat dinner alone with their parents, it's the perfect opportunity for a well-intentioned, but nevertheless brutal, third degree on the events in their lives.
"This is a good day," she says with a quiet, blissful sigh as she eats her last bite of chocolate cheesecake, and the chorus of agreements from the others at the table make her grin.
She sits in the living room with the quiet notes of Mozart playing in the background afterward and dedicates a full hour to her Shakespeare homework even though she missed the class. It's a little different and a little harder with Dan next to her, but she feels independent and strong when she finishes on her own, blushing and giggling under the stunned look her mother adopts when she finds her studying without any coercion.
At ten o'clock, she wishes Bart and Erik good night, shocking them both, and walks to her room. Her mind is finally catching up with every other part of her, and she is so jittery with realization that her hand shakes as she brushes her teeth. She ties her hair in a messy bun atop her head, still using the bowtie to keep it in place, and changes into a silky camisole and very short pale green shorts. She's so confident with her appearance that she doesn't bother glancing at any mirrors before she sneaks out of her bedroom, darts into the hallway, and meanders into Chuck's room.
"You're a little early," he chuckles when she walks in. He's just stepping out of his adjoining bathroom, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He's dressed down, just like she is, in plaid pyjama pants and a thin white t-shirt. She just shrugs, perching on the edge of his bed as she waits for him to finish.
He spits into the sink and reemerges, tilting his head to the side as he brushes lazily. "You've been quite the angel all evening," he remarks through a mouthful of foam.
"I was thinking about what you said," she replies softly after a pause, glancing down at the floor. "About being good. About being myself and knowing who I am. All that stuff."
"And so tonight was…" He trails off, disappearing momentarily to rinse out his mouth.
She smirks, unable to help it, when he comes back into her line of vision. "A last hurrah?" she offers with a sheepish shrug.
His eyes narrow as he smirks back, and unmistakable mischievous glint in his brown orbs. "What are you saying, Serena?"
She really does love the way he says her name. She rises from her spot on the edge of his bed and walks toward him. He's standing, leaning back against the wall, patiently awaiting her explanation. She stands right in front of him, hands at her sides, and searches his face. Sensing the change in the atmosphere, he stands up straight as well. That's when she finds what she's looking for, that's when she sees those same clues from the morning, the ways his face changes and the way her breath automatically hitches in response.
But this time she's not waiting.
It's like falling and having him catch her. She doesn't touch him. It's just a kiss, just lips and nothing more. It's his hands that pulls her instantly toward him, on her upper arm and her lower back, that solidify it all. She's so relieved, so elated, that she melts into him like one would into a safety net after a fall. It's just like that feeling, descending deeply, reaching ground, no going back from the moment his lips respond to hers.
And, oh, it is sweet relief to be bad again.