.
Chapter 13: Still Not a Player
I don't wanna be a player no more
(I'm not a player, I just fuck a lot)
-Big Punisher
Drifting leisurely into wakefulness, Blair became aware of a warm, hard body curled up behind her and a muscular arm wrapped around her waist. She allowed herself a moment to simply relax and enjoy the sensation- the slow, deep breaths stirring the curls at the nape of her neck, the steady thump of a heartbeat against her back... and the smooth expanse of bare skin pressed against her own.
Until the realization that she was actually spooning with Chuck Bass rocketed her sex-addled brain back to reality.
Opening her eyes, she blinked a few times, taking in her surroundings- gold wallpaper, decorated with an elegant scrollwork pattern, ornate ivory molding, mahogany furniture. She could see discarded shoes and clothes strewn across the plush carpeting, forming a trail leading from the door to the bed. Her beaded clutch, thankfully, was sitting on the nightstand, and her dress had been neatly laid out across the gilt-trimmed chaise lounge.
Blair had to admit that the entire night had been nothing short of amazing- and she was finding it hard to muster up any sense of regret when she just wanted to stretch out like a cat and purr in contentment. Actually sleeping with Chuck was a new experience for her. During their brief tryst the previous year, they'd never spent an entire night together, never even dozed off in each other's presence. There was something decidedly intimate about it, she thought, feeling the continuous rise and fall of his chest against her body... and fighting the creepy stalkerish impulse to roll over and watch him sleep.
But now there was sunlight streaming in through the blinds, and the night had officially come to an end. With any luck, her getaway would be stealthier this time around- Chuck had misinterpreted her crawling over his body in the middle of the night as an invitation to round three, and since he apparently went from asleep to horny in under five seconds, he'd taken her up on it... quite enthusiastically.
Carefully lifting his arm up off her waist, she scooted across the mattress, listening for any variation in his breathing that might indicate he was waking up.
But she hadn't even made it to the edge of the bed when his arm snaked around her hips, reeling her body firmly back against his.
"Where do you think you're going?" Chuck murmured into her ear, his sleepy voice causing a little shiver to run down the back of her neck.
"Home," she replied coolly.
She tried to put some distance between them, but he loosened his hold on her just enough to stroke his fingers gently across her stomach.
"Why?" He yawned, and she found it inexplicably adorable.
"Because it's morning."
"So?" His lips pressed against her neck- that spot he'd discovered right below her ear- and Blair was unable to suppress a little quiver of excitement.
"So... it's time for me to leave," she said, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt.
His mouth continued working its way down, pausing when he came across another sensitive spot and she arched her neck back.
"Maybe I don't want you to leave," he replied in a low voice.
There was something about the way Chuck said it that caught Blair off guard, an undertone of quiet sincerity that made her wonder if he might be referring to more than just his bed.
"We agreed on one night," she reminded him, trying to ignore the foolish hopefulness that had just sprung up inside her.
"I never agreed to that," he countered softly.
He pulled her backside more snugly against him and she inhaled in surprise, realizing he was already hard. She flushed as she felt her own body start to respond instinctively.
"Besides... we're right in the middle of something," he whispered, his fingers trailing down across her bare thighs.
"But I'm all... dirty," she complained, flushing again when she felt him smirk against her neck.
"I'll say," he chuckled. Grasping her waist, he rolled her over so they were facing each other, only inches apart, and pressed his mouth to hers in a long, lingering kiss.
"I'm serious, I need a toothbrush," she insisted, turning her head to the side when he moved in for another kiss.
"Your mouth tastes fine to me." He gave her that naughty little grin that had always made her melt.
"I need a shower too," she added, stubbornly refusing to meet his mouth. He shrugged, returning his lips to her neck.
"Well, this part is still delicious," he murmured against her skin. "I'll have to check them all though, just to be sure..."
"Chuck!" She smacked him lightly on the arm, but couldn't prevent the giggle that escaped her lips.
Her stomach chose that moment to emit an extended, audible grumble, no doubt protesting her "skip dinner to make up for the martini calories" strategy.
"I'm also a little hungry," she admitted primly.
"Come on, Waldorf, you can't lob them right over the plate like that." He chuckled, placing one last kiss on her collarbone before reaching across her towards the phone on the nightstand.
He kept his body angled over hers while he pressed the room service button and requested breakfast. And when he hung up, he stayed exactly where he was, propped up on his forearms on top of her.
"So since your hunger will be imminently... satiated-" he began, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
"How will they even know what to bring? All you did was ask for 'breakfast'-" Blair interrupted, attempting to look anywhere but at him. Escape attempt number two was not going well at all, she decided- although she was starting to think a postponement might be in order.
"Oh, they bring everything when I do that, just to be safe," he grinned. "Now- how to keep ourselves occupied in the meantime..."
He stared down at her with a hint of a smirk, and she found herself temporarily mesmerized by his gaze. She'd always thought his eyes were just regular brown like her own, but in the morning sunlight, they looked almost amber, sort of a light brown background with gold flecks. Or maybe they were hazel? She thought she could see a hint of green in there as well. And he had such nice long lashes, for a guy. They swept downwards, as his eyes traced down the length of her body before lifting up to meet her gaze once again.
Oh, this was not good.
She'd just spent a full minute staring into Chuck Bass's eyes, trying to decide what color they were. Jesus Christ, one night in bed together and she was practically drawing cartoon hearts with his initials inside them. Some sort of... female hormone imbalance must be responsible for this, she decided.
"So... about that shower..." He regarded her with a playful grin. "There's only one, so I'm afraid you'll have to share."
Pushing himself up off the bed, he sauntered over towards the closet... completely nude, and without an ounce of self-consciousness. Attempting to maintain some sense of modesty, Blair pulled the top sheet tightly across her chest, and willed herself to look at something- anything- besides his naked backside.
But her eyes apparently had a will of their own, and she soon found herself studying the long, lean contours of his body with shameless interest. He obviously hadn't spent much time in the sun, since his skin was almost as pale as hers. And he lacked Nate's well-developed physique, although she could see the muscles working in his shoulders as he searched through the row of hanging clothes. There was just something about him, though... he exuded a certain charisma, an innate... magnetism, almost, that she couldn't even put into words. All she knew was that it made her want to do very bad things to him.
And she already had, from the look of it. Traces of lipstick were still visible on his neck, and two sets of red nail marks marred his back, forming parallel tracks across his shoulder blades. Her mouth went dry as she recalled, in vivid detail, what she'd done to produce those.
Chuck slipped into a purple silk robe, tying it snugly around his waist before turning back towards her.
"Did you want one, or were just going to wear that sheet?" he asked wryly, his eyes flickering down to the white swath of fabric clenched tightly against her chest.
"I would... appreciate something to wear, yes," she responded coolly.
He tossed her a matching black robe and watched as she glanced at it, then down at her own state of undress, then back at him with an arched eyebrow. Rolling his eyes in amusement, he turned around to give her some privacy.
Quickly slipping out of the sheet and into her robe, she mentally instructed herself to maintain her composure. She just had to act casual, breezy- like she had one-night-stands all the time. Of course, this was Chuck, and he knew damn well that wasn't the case, but... if she did a believable job of faking it, hopefully he wouldn't notice that the 12-year-old-girl region of her brain had started bombarding her with infatuation signals.
"Did you seriously give me the black one, and keep the purple for yourself?" she asked mockingly, eying his flamboyant attire.
"What? It's my favorite." He shrugged. Heading towards the bathroom, he called over his shoulder, "I'll go get the water... warmed up for you."
The second Chuck disappeared from sight, she lunged for her clutch on the nightstand, retrieving her compact. Well, it wasn't... that bad, she concluded, surveying her reflection in the tiny mirror. Most of her makeup had rubbed off, but her lips and cheeks still had a nice rosy tinge to them. And thankfully, her waterproof mascara was holding up nicely... but something would have to be done about her hair, she decided, eying the rumpled curls.
A few minutes with the comb and hair clip she always carried, and her hair was neatly gathered into a knot at the back of her head. She teased a few curly tendrils out around the sides, carefully framing her face, and scrambled off the bed towards the bathroom. She definitely didn't want him to think she'd been primping- that just reeked of trying too hard.
But when she entered the bathroom, that was exactly what she found him doing- leaning over the sink and assessing his reflection with pursed lips while he finger-combed his hair. Their eyes met in the mirror and he grinned impishly.
"Um..." Blair furrowed her brow in confusion, surveying the jasmine-scented bubbles slowly filling the whirlpool tub behind him. "You do understand the difference between a bath and a shower?"
"I do." He eyed her with amusement. "But you look like you could use some... relaxation."
"A bath isn't going to get you any less clean than a shower, Waldorf," he continued when she opened her mouth to protest.
She sighed in concession, taking a swallow of the Listerine he offered and swishing it around in her mouth.
"And I know you don't have any of your... naughty romance novels here," he added suggestively. "But I'll do my best to make up for that."
Blair almost choked on the minty liquid, her cheeks reddening uncontrollably. Which was ridiculous, she reminded herself- sex-related embarrassment around Chuck Bass was just plain illogical. She leaned forward, expelling her mouthwash into the sink in the most ladylike manner possible.
When she straightened, she found him watching her intently, propping himself against the counter beside her with one arm.
"I do so enjoy making you blush," he said softly, trailing one finger against her warm cheek. Her eyes drifted closed while his hand traced a path along the side of her neck, sending a frisson of excitement down her spine.
In one smooth movement, Chuck shifted to stand behind her, bracing his arms on both sides and effectively trapping her body between him and the sink. Blair stiffened as she felt the heat of his body through the thin silk, her eyes fluttering open to meet his in the mirror.
He held her gaze for a long moment before ducking his head down to press his lips against the nape of her neck.
"Did you put your hair up just to tease me?" he murmured against her skin.
"Seems like it doesn't take much to tease you, Bass," she responded, trying to keep her voice steady as she felt his tongue lightly stroke the sensitive flesh.
"True." He moved his hands to clasp her waist, caressing her hipbones as his mouth continued its exploration. "I have... no control over myself around you."
Her insides vibrated with an odd quivering sensation, which she tried desperately to suppress. After all, she thought, nothing would be more embarrassing than mistaking standard Chuck Bass dirty talk for... anything more than that.
His hands tightened around her hips and pulled them back into his own, grinding himself against her backside. She gasped softly, gripping the edge of the counter to steady herself.
"Do you have any idea..." he continued in a husky voice, pausing to kiss his up the column of her neck. "How long I've wanted you?"
Blair shook her head almost imperceptibly, her eyes glued to the reflection in front of her- his mouth savoring the soft skin just below her ear, his hands dwarfing her narrow waist, the expression on her own face as she responded to his ministrations.
"Years," he whispered against her ear, as if divulging his deepest, most intimate secret.
And suddenly, all of the suggestive comments, heated glances, and supposedly inadvertent touches that had passed between them over the years began to coalesce in her mind- and that hidden, vulnerable part of her heart thrilled at the possibility that he'd been secretly longing for this, for her, all this time. As he painted lingering, almost reverent kisses along the side of her jaw, she felt the fluttering in her stomach start to spiral out of control.
His hands slid upwards, tracing along the lapels of her robe. Hooking his fingers under the edge, he drew the silken folds open, baring her breasts. She felt his knuckles graze against the outer swells as he trailed back down, and her back arched in response to the teasing caress.
Chuck smiled, that satisfied little grin that she usually wanted to slap right off his smug face- but at the moment, she figured kissing it off would work just as well.
Blair made a move to turn around and do exactly that, but his hands tightened around her waist.
"Uh-uh." He nuzzled against her cheek. "I want to watch."
Reaching up to cup her breasts, he captured her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, massaging them with gentle, teasing flicks until they tightened into stiff buds. And she followed his movements through half-lidded eyes, waiting for the surge of self-consciousness that never materialized. Instead she felt a surge of moisture between her legs, her body responding to both his touch and the undeniably erotic experience of watching him do it.
Raising his head from her neck, he met her gaze in the mirror. His eyes looked much darker now, Blair thought, more of a burnt caramel color, and they were studying her with an almost greedy intensity. Lost in that look for a moment, she didn't even notice him tugging open the belt of her robe until she felt a rush of air against her bare skin.
"Mmm." Chuck made a noise of approval as his hands skimmed over her curves, sliding the swath of silk out of his path.
He lightly caressed her taut inner thighs before moving up to run his fingers through the moist curls between them. Exploring lower, he parted the slick, velvety petals, capturing some of the moisture before returning to massage the swollen nub at their apex. Her hips bucked involuntarily against his hand, rocking against his hand in a slow, rhythmic motion.
He returned to kissing her neck, more aggressively this time, his teeth scraping against her delicate skin. She watched the movements of his mouth, his hands, the contrast of his dark hair and the black silk against the pale creaminess of her skin. And she watched her lips part to emit a soft whimper, her eyelids fluttering half-closed as his fingers continued their sweet, tormenting strokes.
God, he could just take her right here, she thought, her knuckles trembling with the effort of holding herself steady.
Through a haze of arousal, Blair suddenly noticed a mountain of bubbles expanding rapidly in the background.
"Chuck," she gasped- which only caused him to increase his tempo, momentarily distracting her with a wave of pleasure.
"Chuck... the tub's overflowing," she finally got out.
She instantly regretted doing so when he pulled away, leaving her all... hot and bothered. She turned to see him grab for the tap, turning it off just as water was starting to spill out over the floor. The billowing white mound of bubbles now reached several feet into the air.
"Guess I got a little distracted," he offered, turning back to her with a wry grin. It soon faded as he took in her curves- which were, for all intents and purposes, completely exposed.
"Now... where were we?" He stepped back towards her, eying her body as if it were a tasty dessert.
Backing her up against the counter, he captured her mouth with a passionate kiss, and within seconds, all thoughts of a bath had been completely forgotten. The satiny fabric of his robe caressed her bare flesh as she pressed herself into him, reveling in the heat and the hardness of his body. Sliding her arms around his waist, she gripped his ass with both hands, insistently pulling his hips against hers. Rewarded with a low moan of approval, her hands continued their exploration of his silk-covered backside.
Until they were interrupted once more, this time by a series of sharp knocks ringing through the suite.
"Breakfast," he mumbled against her lips, and Blair whined in disappointment when he pulled away again.
"Well, what kind of host would I be if I allowed you to go hungry?" he asked in a teasing tone, chuckling when she narrowed her eyes at him.
"The kind who has a more... enjoyable task at hand?" she replied archly, as she slid her hands down to the knot holding his robe closed.
"Well, they always send up whipped cream and chocolate sauce with the crepes," he said, stroking his thumb across her lower lip. "I think we could find something... entertaining to do with that, don't you?"
He regarded her for one long moment, his face looking more relaxed and open than she could ever remember seeing it. This playful, happy side of him was so new, and so charming, just being around him was starting to feel addictive.
"I'll be right back," he said finally, leaning in for one more kiss. "And don't you dare put any clothes on while I'm gone," he tossed over his shoulder as he exited the bathroom.
Blair turned back to towards the mirror, pressing her palms against her flushed cheeks. She tied her robe closed- loosely- and attempted to steady herself with a deep breath, surveying her swollen lips and feverishly bright eyes in the mirror.
She'd almost certainly lost her mind, she thought. She'd just spent the entire night- and now probably half the morning- sexing up Chuck Bass like it was her job. And not only did she not regret a second of it, she was starting to wonder if maybe this infatuation of hers might be a little bit mutual. There was something about the way he looked at her, with this single-minded intensity... like nothing else even existed. And no one had ever looked at her like that before.
Was she completely crazy to think that this might be more than just sex? Maybe. But she couldn't deny that she was... visibly glowing, and her heart was skipping along at a completely unnatural rate. Besides, she sure as hell wanted to find out what he had planned with the breakfast toppings. In the meantime, though, she should probably deal with this tub situation, she thought, eying the dangerously overfilled bubble bath.
Sitting down on the marble ledge, she began groping around for the drain, smiling to herself as she imagined how much fun they could have in here later.
Chuck strode through the living room at a quick pace, anxious to return to their rendezvous. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror over the bar and paused, taking a moment to tuck his visible erection discreetly under the belt of his robe.
Pulling open the door, he moved aside to make room for the cart.
And every ounce of blood drained from his face when he saw his best friend stepping over the threshold.
"Hey man," Nate greeted him casually, wandering into the center of the room. "We still on for brunch?"
Momentarily frozen in panic, Chuck turned to follow him, his mind racing a mile a minute. Brunch? When did they make brunch plans?
They did usually eat together on Saturday morning- then again, Nate was also usually passed out on his sofa on Saturday morning, so it wasn't so much a standing date as... what just ended up happening.
Clearing his throat, he tried to improvise his way out of this situation.
"Nathaniel. How's it going?" he responded, hoping his voice was loud enough for Blair to hear. The last thing he needed was her walking out in a bathrobe.
"Pretty great, actually," Nate took a seat on the sofa. "What happened to you last night, anyway? You left the party early."
"Oh, I just..." Chuck faltered. "Had somewhere I needed to be."
"Ah, booty call, gotcha." Nate nodded knowingly.
"Uh... yeah, something like that," Chuck replied, averting his eyes.
"Anyway, I wanted to thank you for your advice," Nate continued, oblivious to his friend's discomfort.
"My advice?" Chuck furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Yeah, you know, that talk we had about Blair," Nate clarified. "You were totally right about breaking up with her, man. Being in a relationship really was just... tying me down."
"Uh..." Chuck glanced towards the bathroom door, his eyes widening in alarm. "I don't think those were my... exact words..." He lowered his voice, hoping it would prompt his friend to follow suit.
"Yeah, your exact words were that I shouldn't be sitting around playing husband when I could be out playing the field," Nate reminded him. "And you were right! I mean, I'm only seventeen, I shouldn't be settling down yet."
If anything, his voice sounded even louder, Chuck thought, his anxiety and irritation growing by the minute.
"So anyway, I ended things with Blair last night," Nate continued, and then paused, looking at him expectantly.
There was a moment of silence before Chuck realized he was supposed to respond.
"Oh... you did?" He failed miserably at sounding surprised, but fortunately that wasn't the sort of thing Nate picked up on.
"She seemed like she was okay with it though," Nate went on, a hint of contrition in his voice. "Hopefully we can all still hang out without it being... awkward."
Oh, awkward didn't even begin to cover it, Chuck thought to himself.
"Well, that's…good," he offered.
"Better than good, man. It's gonna be an awesome year," Nate said with an enthusiastic grin. "No commitments, no responsibilities- just you and me, living it up."
"Absolutely," Chuck murmured, wondering how on earth guilt had ended up in the trainwreck of reactions he was currently experiencing.
"Oh, and now that I don't have to go to this silly... dinner thing," Nate waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "I'm free for the party at Victrola tonight."
"Fantastic. Wouldn't have been a party without you," Chuck replied distractedly.
Under normal circumstances, figuring out a way to get rid of Nate would've been no problem, but his brain didn't seem to be functioning correctly. He supposed he could fake a family emergency phone call- except he didn't have his phone. Or pretend to have an important prior engagement- but what did he ever have to do at noon on a weekend that was actually important?
At this point, he was ready to fake a seizure if it would get him out of his conversation.
Another brisk knock interrupted his muddled strategizing. Breakfast, he thought with annoyance, heading towards the door. If only it had arrived five minutes earlier-he wouldn't have even answered the goddamn door for Nate.
Chuck opened the door to reveal not one, but three carts of food being wheeled into his suite.
Nate raised his eyebrows as the uniformed waiters lined the carts up next to the bar, nodded at Chuck politely, and quickly left the suite.
"Dude, how hungry are you?" he asked with a laugh.
At a momentary loss for words, Chuck shot a quick glance towards the bedroom.
Following his glance, Nate managed, for once in his life, to add two and two together and actually come up with four.
"Oh, do you have... company?" he asked, a look of understanding crossing his face. He rose quickly to his feet, shaking his head sheepishly. "Sorry man, I didn't realize... usually you send them home by now."
"Yeah, well..." Chuck shrugged with forced nonchalance. "I do make exceptions."
"Well, must've been some night, you've still got lipstick on your neck," Nate commented, grinning knowingly.
Chuck smiled weakly in response.
"Alright man, enjoy your breakfast, and your… you know. I'll catch up with you later." And with a friendly clap on Chuck's shoulder, he left.
After pausing a moment to make sure he was in the clear, Nate-wise anyway, Chuck strode towards the bedroom door, hoping desperately that it was better-insulated than he suspected.
The second he entered, however, he knew he'd been hoping in vain.
Blair was already fully-dressed, her formerly disheveled curls tied back tightly from her face, and she was frantically stuffing things into her purse.
"Blair-" he began apologetically, but was stopped short by her furious glare.
"Don't even bother," she bit out, grabbing her shoe from where it lay next to the nightstand and looking around for its mate.
"Will you let me explain?" he tried again, cringing inwardly at the pleading sound of his voice.
"Explain what, exactly?" she snapped. "How you convinced my boyfriend to dump me?"
Chuck opened his mouth to respond, but she was brandishing her shoe at him heel-first, and for a moment he feared she might actually stab him with it.
"And then lied to me about it? Tricked me into sleeping with you?" she continued, trembling with rage. "What, was this all some big joke to you?"
"No, that's not what happened, Blair, just listen to me-"
He could tell his words were falling on deaf ears as she continued searching for her shoe, eventually spotting it at the foot of his dresser.
Chuck got there first, grabbing the black pump and holding it out of her reach.
"What, you're going to keep me here by holding my shoe hostage?" She snorted.
"Just hear me out," he said insistently. And after a full ten seconds of mutinous glaring, Blair conceded, folding her arms across her chest and looking anything but open-minded about his explanation.
"Nate told me he was going to break up with you at the end of the year," he explained. "So instead of letting him... string you along, I just talked him into... doing it now instead."
"By pointing out how tedious and awful it is to date me," Blair concluded, the anger in her voice not dissipating in the slightest.
"But I didn't... mean it," Chuck responded, fully aware of how implausible that probably sounded. "Blair, I was just..." he trailed off, searching for the right words. "I was trying to help you."
"Help me?" Her nostrils flared as she regarded him with icy fury. "So you were doing me a favor by telling my boyfriend that I'm ruining his life?"
"Blair, I don't think that," he insisted, the frustration growing evident in his voice. "I just wanted to get Nate... out of the way."
"So you could sleep with me," she finished for him.
"Not... just that," Chuck countered, wondering how on earth he could admit what he actually wanted while she was staring daggers at him.
"Did it even occur to you," she asked, suddenly sounding eerily calm, "to just tell me what he said? And then let me decide what to do?"
It hadn't, admittedly. But he probably wouldn't have considered it anyway, given the chances of that tactic working out in his favor.
"Of course not." Blair shook her head with a humorless laugh. "You just figured you'd manipulate everyone around you, like pawns in a chess game. Just like you did with Carter last year."
"I didn't..." Chuck trailed off, running his hand through his hair in frustration.
"But since you already got what you wanted," she continued frostily. "I'd appreciate it if you'd return my shoe so I can commence my walk of shame."
"That's not what I wanted," Chuck insisted, his jaw tensing in annoyance. "Goddammit, Blair, why are you always so determined to think the worst of me?"
"Maybe because you keep proving me right," she shot back.
Silence fell between them, and he felt the animosity start welling up inside him at the unfairness of her accusations.
"All you do is use and manipulate people, Chuck," she said bitterly. "I shouldn't even be surprised by it anymore."
"You think I'm the manipulative one?" Chuck scoffed. "You've been using me to make your boyfriend jealous since the day I came back. And then you used me for sex five seconds after he broke up with you, again. And somehow I'msupposed to be the one at fault here?"
"Oh please, like anyone could ever use you for sex. Screwing people and screwing people over are pretty much your defining character traits," Blair retorted scornfully.
"Well if you think I'm so horrible, what the fuck are you even doing here?" he snapped. "I didn't ask you to jump into my lap last night."
She recoiled slightly, and he felt a pang of remorse.
"Consider it a momentary lapse of judgment," she replied haughtily. "I'm plainly not in my right mind when I've been drinking."
And with that, the pang was gone- replaced by a burning feeling of resentment at being treated, once again, like a shameful mistake.
"As far as I can tell, it's pretty much the only time you're in your right mind," Chuck replied cuttingly. "Because the rest of the time, you're panting after Nate like a lovesick puppy. And you wonder why I didn't just tell you what he said and expect you to deal with it?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Because you would've done the same goddamn thing you always do- run back to him, not caring if you make a fool out of yourself in the process."
Blair flinched, her entire body stiffening in response.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she replied tightly.
"What can I say, you just keep proving me right," he retorted, infusing the words with all the nastiness he could muster.
A moment of silence fell between them as the two stared each other down- his eyes smoldering with anger, hers reflecting back an emotion he couldn't quite fathom.
"Maybe I am a fool," she said quietly. "Because I was stupid enough to think that you might feel the same way about me as I did about you."
He felt the breath catch in his throat at her admission- and then the bottom drop out of his stomach when he saw the shimmer of moisture in her eyes. Rubbing one hand across his face, he tried to figure out how everything had gone downhill so fast, and how he could possibly salvage it.
But while he was distracted, Blair snatched her shoe out of his other hand, and was out the door before he even knew what hit him.
"Blair," he entreated, following her out of the bedroom. "Blair," he called after her one last time as she opened the front door, but she slammed it behind her on her way out.
Cursing, he slumped down onto the sofa.
Serena strolled down Fifth Avenue, cappuccinos and croissants in hand, pausing briefly to check her watch again. It was already noon, so Blair had to be awake by now, she thought. Even if she was too upset to get out of bed... or answer her phone, evidently.
Serena had tried calling as soon as she realized Blair had left the party, but the line had gone straight to voicemail four times in a row. Then when she'd confronted Nate, he'd admitted that they'd broken up, again. Even though it was a long time coming, she was sure her best friend could use some support right now. Brunch and an afternoon movie marathon seemed like the perfect way to start.
Stepping into the elevator, Serena retrieved her phone from the brightly-patterned satchel slung over her shoulder.
Still no messages from Blair.
Or Dan, she noted with an involuntary pang of disappointment. Well, it wasn't like she expected him to chase after her and try to win her back or anything. Maybe send flowers… or one of those sonnets he used to write about her, full of overwrought metaphors and allusions to Pre-Raphaelite poetry.
They were silly poems, anyway, filled with glowing descriptions of her hair.
Softly tangled tendrils. Gossamer locks. Golden crown of glory.
Although for some reason she still had all of them, tucked away in her memento box.
Anyway... she certainly wasn't expecting any of that. Besides, she had more important things to do- like cheering up her best friend, she thought with a resolute nod.
But much to her chagrin, when she finally made into the penthouse, Blair was nowhere to be found.
"What do you mean, she didn't come home last night?" she questioned Dorota, her voice tinged with concern. Staying out all night was definitely not Blair-like behavior.
Dorota shook her head, looking more frazzled than usual.
"Miss Blair not come home, not answer her phone. Miss Eleanor asking, where is Miss Blair?" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "And Dorota starting to run out of excuses."
"Dorota!" Eleanor's strident voice rang out down the stairs, and the maid's eyes widened in panic.
But their mounting concern was interrupted by a cheerful ding of the elevator. Blair entered and made her way quietly across the foyer, her eyes widening briefly in surprise upon seeing Serena.
Her ivory and black dress looked just as polished as it had the previous evening, her hair arranged neatly in a low ponytail- but Serena could tell from her pale face and red-rimmed eyes that her outward poise was merely a façade.
"Hey B!" she greeted her friend, discouraged when she received only a wan smile in response.
"Dorota, have you managed to locate my daughter yet?" Eleanor descended the stairs, grumbling under her breath before surveying the foyer. "Blair- there you are. Where on earth have you been? We were supposed to go over final preparations for dinner over an hour ago!"
"Sorry mother," Blair responded quietly.
Eleanor gave her a quick once-over, frowning at what she saw. "Aren't you a little overdressed, dear? It's barely noon."
"Anyway," she continued, waving her hand dismissively. "We need to go over seating arrangements. I had you and Nate across from Spencer and his wife, but I'm thinking that seating you with the Worthingtons may more... advantageous. Thomas is a Yale alum, and he's very interested in talking to Nate about a possible internship in the Mayor's office next summer."
She paused, raising her eyebrows in her daughter's direction when she failed to respond. "Well?"
"Nate's not coming."
"What? On six hours notice?" Eleanor asked in disbelief. "Why on earth not?"
"We broke up," Blair replied, almost inaudibly.
And Serena looked back and forth between them, desperately hoping that Eleanor would show a little tact and sensitivity towards her obviously upset daughter. After all, there was a first time for everything.
"Again?" Eleanor sighed. "Honestly Blair, how am I supposed to keep track of this? You couldn't have given me a little advance warning?"
"Seeing as how I didn't have any myself, I'm not sure how..." Blair responded coolly, her eyes narrowing.
"Well, there's no need to get snippy about it," Eleanor continued. "I'm sure I can figure out a way to fix the seating chart. I'll just seat you next to... Cecil's daughter."
"Olivia? She's twelve!" Blair objected.
Eleanor released an aggravated sigh. "I don't know what else you expect me to do, Blair. She's the only other person without a plus one."
"Also, I hate her," Blair added stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Don't be so melodramatic, dear," Eleanor rolled her eyes. "It's only a few hours, I'm sure you'll survive.
"Anyway, I have to head to the florist- make sure they don't ruin my arrangements with filler flowers again," she continued, shaking her head. "It was lovely to see you, Serena!"
And with that, she departed- and Dorota took one glance at Blair's now glowering expression and made herself scarce as well.
"So... I brought breakfast!" Serena offered with forced cheer, gesturing with her bag of croissants.
"Seems to be a popular activity this morning," Blair eyed the pastries with distaste. "I guess I should change into something more... breakfast-appropriate."
Frowning in confusion, Serena followed her up the stairs, closing the door behind them once they reached her bedroom. She placed the coffee and food on the nightstand, unsure whether Blair even wanted it.
"Are you okay, B? I know you must be upset about... what happened with Nate..." she began, watching as her friend kicked off her shoes and pulled down the side zipper of her dress.
"You're probably going to want to turn around, seeing as how I'm not wearing any underwear," Blair commented dryly.
Serena gaped at her for a moment before turning to face the other wall. "What happened to your underwear?" she asked in a small voice, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
"It's probably right where I left it," Blair's voice was momentarily muffled by the fabric of her dress. "Crumpled in a ball on the floor of Chuck's limo."
"What?" Serena spun around, her eyes wide with surprise.
Fortunately, Blair was already clothed. Securing the belt of her robe, she released her ponytail and shook the chestnut curls out around her shoulders.
And then she crawled across her bed, laying on her stomach and burying her face into the pillow.
"Blair, what happened?" she asked in a concerned voice, moving to sit next to her on the bed.
"I had sex with him." The grumbled admission was directed into her pillow. "... Lots of it."
Serena swallowed, wanting to provide support, but not really wanting details.
"How much is... lots?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.
"Three times." There was a pause. "Well, four for me, I guess."
Good lord, and she'd only been gone for twelve hours, Serena thought. Reaching out to stroke her friend's hair, she contemplated how to console her.
"How did that... even happen?" she asked cautiously.
"It happened," Blair replied, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. "Because I am an idiot. An idiot who makes horrible idiot decisions."
"Well, it's not all that bad," Serena ventured, trying to be supportive.
Blair looked at her like she'd gone daft.
"…right?" Serena added, even more uncertainly.
"I'm sorry, have you met Chuck?" Blair replied in disbelief.
"Believe me, I've been seeing more of him lately than I ever wanted to," Serena said with a laugh and a roll of her eyes. "But he's got some... positive qualities. And I think he really likes you, B."
She couldn't forget the hint of sadness on Chuck's face when he'd talked about Blair blowing him off- or their bizarre conversation about monogamy the other morning. There was more to this than just sex for him. She was sure of that.
"And you like him, so..." Serena looked at her friend expectantly.
"Whose side are you on here, anyway?" Blair asked, narrowing her eyes.
"I didn't know there were... sides..." Serena trailed off with a hapless shrug.
"Well, he talked Nate into breaking up with me," Blair replied sharply. "He neglected to mention that, of course, when he was standing around waiting to get in my pants immediately afterwards." The pitch of her voice was moving steadily higher, her cheeks growing flushed with indignation. "So he lied to me the whole... night, and then he acted like I should be thankful that he went behind my back and manipulated everything."
"Maybe that's... just his twisted, creepy way of showing you he likes you?" Serena suggested hopefully.
"Yes, that's probably why he made dating me sound like a fate worse than death," Blair shot back. "Or why he pointed out what a pathetic fool I've made of myself over Nate. Trust me, he made his feelings for me crystal clear." A brief flash of hurt crossed her face before she regained her composure.
Serena sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. If this was Chuck's courting strategy, it seemed to be going... poorly.
"So yes, Serena... there are sides," Blair continued, regarding her with suspicion. "Can I trust that you're on mine?"
"Come on B, do you even need to ask?" Serena smiled at her, deciding to set the issue aside for now and just focus on cheering her friend up. "How about we just put on Tiffany's and enjoy our croissants?"
"Alright." Blair conceded, pulling herself to a seated position and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I need a shower first though."
"And probably a shot of penicillin," she added, heaving a jaded sigh as she headed into the bathroom.
"Man, this party is awesome," Nate enthused, flopping down onto the velvet sofa next to Chuck.
He ran his fingers through his golden brown hair, which was still tousled from a rather vigorous lapdance. His shirt was in similar disarray, tails untucked and several buttons undone, the collar marred by bright red lipstick smudges.
Chuck nodded absentmindedly, swirling the glass of scotch dangling from one hand. He contemplated the amber liquid for a moment, wondering why it didn't seem to be improving his mood- if anything, he was even more morose than he'd been two hours ago.
"Way better than dinner at the Waldorfs," Nate added with a snort. "I mean... look at this place!"
Chuck scanned the room, assessing the elegant period furnishings, scantily-clad women, and raucous partygoers. The event was undeniably a success, and everyone appeared to be having a fabulous time- everyone, that is, except for Chuck. His mind had barely given him a second of Blair-free thought all day, and now, in the midst of all this revelry, he felt oddly detached from his decadent surroundings.
Even the burlesque show itself- which was usually good for at least an hour of enjoyable distraction- wasn't helping him escape his melancholy tonight. He let his gaze drift indifferently over the dancers, taking in their clichéd satin corsets, fishnet stockings, and overdone makeup. None of them could even hold a candle to the memory of a slim, doe-eyed brunette, the very picture of innocent seduction in her chaste little slip... her hips swaying back and forth as she danced on that very stage, just for him. All it had taken was one look, one coy little glance over her shoulder... and nothing in his life had been the same since.
He drained the rest of his tumbler, motioning to a waitress for another refill.
"Dude, what's gotten into you?" Nate asked, finally noticing that his enthusiasm wasn't shared. "You've been sitting here moping all night."
"Nothing, I just..." Chuck trailed off, running his hand along the side of his jaw. "Nothing," he repeated.
He had to admit, even that stuffy dinner party was starting to sound awfully appealing. After all, Blair was there, not here. And even if everyone else in attendance was completely dull, he'd still get to spend time with her... trading barbs, exchanging glances, possibly getting a little handsy under the table.
"Okay, I didn't want to say anything," Nate continued, his slightly glassy eyes focusing on his friend for a moment. "But you were acting... super weird this morning. Is this about that chick you had over?"
Normally the question would've made him tense and uncomfortable, but most of those reflexes had been dulled by several hours of heavy drinking. He did find it perplexing that he continued to feel miserable, though, when he could barely even feel his own legs anymore.
"Maybe," he finally admitted.
"Chuck Bass, hung up on a girl? You can't be serious," Nate guffawed, shaking his head. "What happened to living it up? No commitments, no responsibilities?"
"Whoa there, Nathaniel, don't get ahead of yourself," Chuck replied sardonically. "It's not... like that. I just wanted to see her again, that's all."
Another scotch materialized at his side and he finished half of it in one gulp.
"So... what's the problem?" Nate leaned back against the sofa, taking a swallow of his own drink as he observed the dancers onstage.
"I, uh... screwed up. And she thinks I'm an asshole," Chuck responded- briefly considering how pathetic he would have sounded to himself, had he been sober enough to care.
"Just tell her you're sorry and give her some flowers or something, she'll get over it." Nate shrugged.
"Flowers?" Chuck echoed, raising his eyebrows in disdain.
"Yeah dude, girls love flowers... and candy, and jewelry. They eat that shit right up," Nate said with a chuckle. "Blair always loved those... pink ones, you know..." he made a circular hand movement. "with the fluffy, uh, petals."
Chuck sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the indignity of such a gesture. If she shot him down, the humiliation would be... considerable.
But what if her brown eyes softened and she gave him that reluctant little smile, the way she always responded to Nate's apologies? She'd sniff the flowers, comment on how pretty they were, and then maybe... thank him with a kiss. And then the flowers would get tossed aside as they ripped each other's clothes off, and then he could proceed to apologize in a better, more naked way.
He had to admit this plan had a lot of upside.
Plus, if he were being completely honest, he did feel just a tiny bit remorseful about his behavior. Not his involvement in the actual breakup- because it was about goddamn time someone did something about that- but he did regret, just a little, not being more upfront with her about it. He couldn't blame her for feeling hurt and betrayed, given the way she'd found out.
So if it took some flowers to fix this whole mess, and make her look at him like she had in bed that morning- like there was no one else in the entire world she'd rather be looking at- then he would suck it up and go find some fucking flowers.
"You know what, I think you may be right," Chuck declared, inclining his head thoughtfully. "You should savor it, Archibald- it's not a regular occurrence."
Nate chuckled, his attention distracted by a rather buxom blonde waitress who'd perched on the sofa arm next to him.
Taking one last gulp of scotch, Chuck rocked himself onto his feet- and was surprised to feel the floor tilt beneath him. He took a moment to steady himself, wondering briefly if he should postpone this whole operation.
No, he decided- no time like the present. The sooner he took care of this, the sooner they could get back to the smiling, and the teasing, and the nakedness. And he was definitely in the mood for some nakedness.
He told Nate goodnight, and texted Arthur to bring around the limo as he made his way towards the exit.
"Mister Chuck!" The angry hiss brought him to a halt, and he blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimly-lit foyer.
"Good evening, Dorota," he greeted her in a languid drawl. "Is Miss Waldorf in?"
"Miss Blair is asleep," the maid retorted. "It is two o'clock in the morning."
As her plump figure came into focus, he realized she was wearing a fuzzy robe and slippers, instead of her standard-issue uniform. And her expression was distinctly unwelcoming.
"I do apologize for the... lateness of the hour," he said contritely. "I was... unavoidably detained."
He made sure to carefully enunciate all of his words, so he didn't sound drunk.
Although... he was definitely pretty drunk.
"Mister Chuck, you come back tomorrow morning," Dorota insisted, giving her head a disapproving shake.
"Look... Dorota," he coaxed, giving her his most charming smile. "I'm afraid this is a rather urgent matter and it... simply cannot wait until morning."
With her wide stance and crossed arms, Dorota was like a physical barricade- but Chuck managed to sidestep her and headed towards the staircase at a quick clip.
She gave an indignant huff and he turned to wink at her, pressing one finger against his lips in a shushing motion- and then stumbled over the next step, barely catching himself against the railing.
Regaining his balance, he checked to make sure the flowers were unharmed before continuing up the stairs.
For a city with 24-hour everything, a 24-hour florist had been surprisingly difficult to locate. He'd ended up having to bribe one out of bed, which had taken the better part of an hour. This was probably the most expensive bouquet of peonies ever purchased in Manhattan.
He examined them one last time. Pink, check. Fluffy petals. Check. He gave them a nod of approval.
Once he reached Blair's room, he knocked softly- and hearing no response, quietly turned the knob and entered, closing the door behind him.
Taking a tentative step forward into the darkened room, Chuck tripped over the edge of the rug- and in his haste to catch himself on a nearby piece of furniture, sent something atop it crashing to the floor.
"Fuck," he cursed loudly, fumbling around for the flowers he'd dropped.
The room suddenly flooded with light, and he squinted, shielding his face with one hand.
"What the..." Blair said in disbelief, blinking the sleep from her eyes.
They widened when they lit upon Chuck, who had spotted the fallen bouquet at his feet. Quickly retrieving it, he righted his posture and tried to look as dignified as possible.
Blair stared at him for a moment with her mouth open.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she finally groaned.
.
A/N: And that's what we in the business call a "cliffhanger" (or so I'm told).
So... how do you expect Chuck's brilliant plan to work out? Will it get him A) laid, B) stabbed with a stiletto, C) ridiculed mercilessly, or D) all of the above, not necessarily in that order?
Any thoughts on the rest? (there was actually some other stuff that happened, before that last part...)
This chapter, as usual, is dedicated to my fantastic beta, Terrabeth- who has been known to accuse me of "musical snobbery". So this one's for you (and Chuck Bass, whom that song was actually written about. True story.) I have no adequate way to thank you for your awesomeness, or repay you for that glorious tribute poem. Perhaps I will... develop some sort of skill, and then use it to make you something. Like a potholder.
Special thanks also to Noirreigne, for all the lovely support and encouragement! As well as the rest of my reviewers, you (and Chuck and Blair) are the reason I write. You guys rule: 24hrscout, notoutforawalk, wrighthangal, fiona249, Maddtown (x12!), Kayla, Krazy4Spike, CBfanhere, 13Maggi13, ellibells, LeftWriter224, chaval, Rossiee, andi, Lexi1x07, bfan, abelard, Noirreigne, PrettyLittleJackie, CBforever, GGfan73104, CBBW3words8letters, jsta, fan, Love Still Stands, Arazadia, maryl, mlharper, LukePeyTLA, Temp02, katharienne, and TerraBeth.