AN: So I've made a choice about this, it will be multi-chapter but it won't follow a conventional timeline, instead it's going to show a vignette between Chuck and Blair, one a year between their first meeting (chapter 1) and fourteen and seven years later, when they're 21. I'll try and stick in canon as much as possible where the series is still happening, although bear in mind I haven't been watching season 3 so if something is incorrect on account of that, that's the reason why, sorry.
Also, I've already written the scene for when they're 21 so hopefully I'll update fairly regularly, I've got the worst cold at the moment so there's a lot of sitting in bed writing at the moment.
15
Chuck was exhausted. The first month back at school had been very trying, even without all of the Van der Woodsen drama and gossip. He, for one, was pretty much sick of it. All of the rumours surrounding her, that she was pregnant and having the baby in France, that she had got married to a Mormon and was now living with his three other wives in a trailer park in Missouri. He had no idea where people got these ideas and was beyond caring. The return to the monotony of school was always a time of year fraught with stress for him; Bart would be more annoyed than ever by the frequent calls from the school about Chuck's misconduct, and the sophomores he'd seduced and ignored in the Hamptons would send vicious glares his way. None of it really upset him, apart from Bart's distance, but it meant that by the end of September he was usually ready for another 3 month break.
Unfortunately this was not something that was available, especially not on a crisp Sunday afternoon. Instead, he tried to get respite from his feeling of weariness with a bracing stroll through the park. Normally he would invite Nathaniel along, perhaps stop by the Baizen's place to pick up some herbal pick me ups before they hit the footpaths, but since the Sheppard wedding he hadn't been the same. Chuck alone knew the source of Nate's moping- his love for Serena had finally been returned and came to fruition in a sweaty teenage coupling on a bar stool under Chuck's amused gaze – but that didn't mean he endorsed it. Chuck hadn't told anybody about it, convincing himself he would wait for the best moment to reveal it for the most effect, but there was another reason he was barely conscious of, at the back of his mind.
He shook his head to make that thought flutter away as he continued his amble, hands in pockets. It was an unusually fine day for New York so late in the month, the last remnants of summer clung to the air despite the leaves on the trees already turning golden in places. He had dressed for weather a little colder than it was, anticipating crisp air and chilling breezes. Instead he carried his navy, herringbone coat over his arm and walked slowly, enjoying the warmth in the air. He noticed what was obviously a Park Avenue nanny sat with an old fashioned stroller next to an uninterested-looking couple, obviously the parents. She was looking at him appreciatively, obviously enjoying his high cheek bones and dark looks, his form well presented in his taupe trousers, buttery cream shirt and blue cardigan. He was dressed fairly conservatively today, he had put on soothing colours, colours that reminded him of the palette he had so enjoyed over the summer; that of the beach. He arched an eyebrow at the girl before continuing languidly on his way, smirking to himself as he heard the couple scolding their nanny in a whisper for making eyes at that boy instead of attending to the baby's running nose.
Calm was beginning to settle over him as he thought about the fresh air and the fact that the end of September meant fall was well on its way. He smirked, thinking of the joys of this so-unappreciated month; the brightly coloured tights of the Constance girls leading up to short skirts, the ballet dancers swarming into town for the Christmas show rehearsals, the breezes that cheekily played havoc with hemlines and pretty brunette curls. He did a slight double-take when he realised his last thought had not been a thought but was, in fact, an observation. He saw, up ahead, sat on a bench with its back to him, a very familiar figure with dancing curls sat silhouetted against the pond.
He was happy to see her; he always was. Much as he adored Nate and had been amused by Serena, neither was really a match for him. Since he had met her a year ago he had revelled in the charge between them, there was never a smarmy comment she didn't hit back at with a witty retort, or a devilish plan for social destruction that she hadn't thought of first. He always wondered how Nate was so blind to her, how he could choose the now absent It-girl over the cool, calculating Queen that sat ahead of him. He was fascinated whenever he got a private glimpse of the fire inside her; when she'd look at him from under her eyelashes, smirking as a plan came together, or when he would say something to her that she would describe as 'heinous' in front of her boyfriend but then as her and Nate walked away she'd look over her shoulder with a wink or a bite of her plump bottom lip, knowing it would drive him crazy. He hastened his pace to reach her faster, finally coming to a stop right behind her before bending his face so his lips were at her ear, his nose in her hair: "Waldorf, are you stalking me?" he murmured with a smile.
She didn't respond at all which gave him a thrill of disappointment, it was actually sort of sick how much pleasure he took from her put downs, how much he always looked forward to their next sparring match. He decided to bait her a little more as he walked round the edge of the bench to sit on it beside her, but as he caught sight of her profile all thoughts went from his mind. He put his coat over the back of the bench as he sat down, gazing in horror at her tear-stained face as she stared absently across the pond.
"Blair," he said gently, almost whispering, "what's the matter?"
The tone of his voice seemed to surprise him; she suddenly whipped her head round to face him. "Why do you want to know, Bass? So you can send a tip to Gossip Girl or use it to blackmail me into blowing you in your limo?" She said, her voice cold. Chuck gaped at her in shock, he'd never heard her speak that emotionlessly, she sounded empty. As for the reference to the blow job... that was am image he'd be returning to later, but her use of the phrase was foreign and unusual. He had no idea how to deal with her, but judging by her general demeanour he guessed that he could concede his inadequacy for once and just continue on his walk. He had turned to get his coat from behind him when the noise broke the silence between them; a gentle, desolate sob.
He turned back to her. Gone was the cool Queen Bee of Constance, gone was the minx that liked to wink over her shoulder at him, even the android-like state she had been in a second earlier was gone, now there was only a delicate-looking fifteen year old girl sobbing on a park bench in a floral dress. Her face was in her hands and her ankles were crossed beneath her; she looked like a lost child. Chuck looked around him in terror, for somebody to come and deal with this unfamiliar situation for him. He had dealt with crying girls before, but it was always easy enough to send weeping sluts away as they asked him why they wanted them to leave so soon after. Coping with a girl who was so much more than one, who was his best friend and toughest critic, in such a desperate state, was something he had never done before. He finally decided to do what he had seen other people instinctively do; he slid across the bench and gently put his hand on her wrist near her face, whispering her name. She suddenly lunged at him, burying her face in the crook of his neck and weeping louder, her arms reaching round him to cling onto his neck. He wrapped his arms tight around her, stroking her hair and murmuring 'it's ok, don't cry, please Blair' over and over into her brown curls. Chuck blushed at the situation, hoping nobody would walk past at the moment; they might think he'd just dumped her or something.
They stayed like that for a long time, her sobs eventually subsiding into quiet tears and occasional jagged hiccups. Chuck continued gently shushing her and caressing her curls until her hold on his neck was slightly less severe. He loosened his hold on her and she sat back a little, their bodies still facing one another, one of her knees hooked up onto his lap with her foot in between them on the bench. Chuck his hand from her back and brought it to her face, clumsily wiping away her tears before putting his hand on her shoulder, holding a lock of hair in his fingers.
"If you want to tell me, Waldorf, you can. If you're this upset and you want to talk to somebody, you can talk to me. I wouldn't ever tell anybody, I promise." He told her sincerely. He felt like a child begging to be somebody's friend, swearing to keep their secrets, but he meant every word. He watched Blair mull it over, gazing to the side out across the pond again, and her hands falling from around his neck and into her lap.
"God it's just... it's everything. It's so much I wouldn't know where to start. What's the point anyway?" she added, the last comment seeming to be a question as much to the ducks appraising her quizzically from the water as to him.
"Maybe I can help. Just, you know, listen? You can trust me, Blair." He said, his hand moving round her shoulder as he sat back on the bench, tugging at her opposite shoulder until she leant back against his arm, sitting properly with her heels crossed. She looked skywards before leaning down into his gentle embrace, putting her head on his chest just below his chin.
"What has my life come to when you're my most sympathetic ally?" she murmured rhetorically. "It's my parents. Well, that's part of it. I think they're getting a divorce. In fact, I know it." She began disjointedly. Chuck remained quiet, one hand around her shoulder and the other on his knee, his chin placed carefully against the top of her head. "They've been arguing about it for weeks, I hear them when they think I'm doing my homework or with Dorota. She yells that he can't abandon our family, he says he has to follow his heart, that he can't do it, that he isn't happy with her, with- with- with us." Her stutters are followed by a damp feeling on his chest; he knows she's crying again.
"I'm sure it's nothing to do with you, I've seen your father with you Blair, he adores you." Chuck said honestly, thinking bitterly of his own father's non-existent affections towards him.
"But it is!" she cries, waving a hand for effect, "Mother says he's done this before, he's wanted to leave for an infatuation, but he never has. She says it's because I've been difficult recently that he really wants to go. I can't believe Daddy would do this, why would he choose him over me? I'm his daughter; I'm supposed to be his Blair-Bear!" Her shoulders heaved beneath his arm as she cried afresh into Chuck's shirt. He tried to understand what happened; it sounded like Harold was playing around and wanted to set up shop with the mistress, but he didn't understand who the 'him' was that Blair's father was apparently choosing. At length, Blair finished explaining. "I can't believe he's going to divorce my mother to move to France with a male model, it's such a pathetic cliché." She bitterly finished. Chuck decided that leaving your wife for a male model was definitely not a cliché, but he also knew there was no need to bring that up exactly.
"So, they're definitely ending it? Your dad's moving to France?" He summarised, wanting to make sure he understood the basics.
"Yes," she whispered, "I'm hardly surprised; nobody else can bear to be around me. I mean, Serena left, Nate never wants to hang out or talk to me, my mother can't even stand to look at me at the moment..."
He held her shoulder a little tighter but didn't say a word. He desperately wanted to explain to her that it wasn't her fault; that it was just the stupid blondes and their stupid drunken fuck that had caused the distance but he couldn't. He couldn't see her hurting anymore than she already was. He made a mental note to talk to Nate, to tell him to snap out of his Serena obsession and concentrate on his girlfriend more. He'd have to be careful, he'd have to gift-wrap it like Nate would never get laid if he carried on ignoring Blair, but he'd make sure he let Nate know that he had to focus on her more.
"Blair, none of this is your fault." Chuck said, his voice husky from being silent for so long. "You can't blame yourself; you know what our parents are like, they're more fucked up than we'll ever be. So what? Your father left your mother for another man. Even if he loves this guy, this model, more than he loves Eleanor, it doesn't mean he loves him more than you, because that isn't possible. I've seen you with your father, Blair; you're his everything and his world. He'd do anything for you. As for Serena and Nate... You know Serena. She'll be back at school one Monday like 'hey, I forgot where Constance was so I just went to school in Connecticut' and it'll be like nothing had changed, breakfast on the Met steps, arms-length photos at the opera, shopping at Bendel's. And Nate is... Nate is my fault. I put him in contact with my new guy in town, his pot's pretty strong so..." Chuck trailed off, hating himself for the lie but knowing it would be worth it if it gave Blair even the tiniest bit of faith in herself and stopped her thinking she was pushing everyone away.
She sniffed a little and they were quiet for a while. They sat there for so long the air began to lose the sun's warmth and a chill was on the breeze. Shivering slightly, Blair reached across Chuck's lap and put her hand over his, squeezing his fingers.
"Thank you, Chuck." She said quietly, knowing he would hear. He smiled and pressed a feather-light kiss to the top of her head, just below his chin.
"Anytime, Waldorf." He replied, meaning it so genuinely he could feel it in his gut.
They stayed like that until he noticed her arms were covered in goosebumps under her green and yellow dress. He rubbed her arm and looked for a cardigan or jacket she might have, seeing nothing he slipped his own cardigan off and around her shoulders. She pulled it around her and tucked herself back under his armpit.
When the day turned to dusk she finally sat up and turned to look at him.
"I guess I'd better be back. I'm sure my parents will have staged some appropriately false family meal in order to announce their imminent separation by now." She said, seeming more like herself.
"Well if it all gets too much, or you want to talk, just give me a talk or come over to my place. It should be empty by now..." He trailed off, looking off thoughtfully. She smiled curiously.
"What do you mean, by now?" She asked.
"Let's just say that singer at a jazz bar doesn't necessarily mean you sound so angelic in bed," he smirked, enjoying her appalled expression, "she snored. I couldn't get out of that room fast enough. I'm just hoping she's got the message and left." He finished. She sighed and stood up from the bench, dusting herself down.
"Ever the gentleman, Bass." She sighed, smiling at him as he stood, picking up his coat. She made a move as though to remove his cardigan but he held up a hand to stop her.
"It looks much better on you anyway, Waldorf." He told her, putting his coat on. "Can I interest you in a ride back to your penthouse?"
She looked at him quizzically. "I never took you for one to offer piggybacks Chuck, somehow that doesn't seem your style."
He laughed in response; "My limo is outside the gate, and as for piggy backs, it would be worth the exertion just to feel your thighs around my waist." He smirked. He was glad when she rolled her eyes, back to her usual self, if only for now.
"Sadly for you, Bass, you won't be getting between my legs anytime soon, I'm sure I can walk to the edge of the park and as for the rest, I'm fine with that too, it's not far to my building and I need the walk." She told him with a gentle half smile. "See in the morning at school." She turned to walk away, he let her go three steps before calling to her.
"Blair!" He called. She turned with a smirk, anticipating his crude comment on her ass or her walk or something. "I meant it, if ever you want to talk, you know you have me. I'm not going anywhere." He promised. She smiled softly, looking pleased but a little confused.
"I'll bear it in mind, Bass. Thanks for today, and the cardigan." She said, holding the edges of the garment where it met over her delicate décolletage. He watched her as she turned and walked away, not moving from the spot he stood in until she disappeared around the corner.
AN: Reviews are always appreciated! Also I'd like to know any comments you have on Chuck's characterization, I tried to keep him as much in canon as possible, so still like himself but, obviously, still a fifteen year old boy so still not quite the guy we're used to from the series. Chapter 3 up soon; and Serena will be back.