'Fantastique, Blair, bravo. That will do for today, but we need to make certain that your fouetté is as clean and precise as it was last year. Those Bolshoi dancers are in a class of their own altogether this season.'

Blair rolled a soft, peach-toned leg warmer over her aching ankle. It was long past eleven when Hugo had at last called time on their session for the night. Having worked alongside each other for so many years, they'd become good friends. That was precisely how Blair knew, in no uncertain terms, that her beloved teacher grew more and more neurotic by the day. He wasn't wrong to worry about the Bolshoi's breakout prima, Tatiana Rostov's bewitching portrayal of Odette, but he was becoming somewhat overbearing in his competitive perfectionism.

Luckily for him, competitive perfectionism was something Blair Waldorf did exceptionally well.

'Well, what else do you expect when they work them like dogs? You already know my views on the matter of upping hours for the entire troupe.' Blair grumbled, hungry and exhausted as she tugged her sweater over her leotard. 'For example, why is he not here with me, he's supposed to be the principal, is he not?'

Hugo brushed off her protest. 'He has little more to work on besides your pas de deux. It's you that must outshine all the other companies with your solo performances this season- that is my priority.'

Blair sighed but humoured him, knowing there had not been a single year since her debut during which another dancer had bested her. 'Fine, but promise you'll never do this to me again. I need a reliable partner, someone whose primary concern is turning me in a tutu, not getting girls out of them. Even Lucien would be preferable.' Blair winced as she recalled the latter dancer's clumsily-trod steps.

Hugo chuckled at her, no doubt reminding himself of the same horrors. 'I know you're not pleased he was cast alongside you- you've made that abundantly clear. But you must admit, he is the most fluid male dancer we've seen in years. His movements are so natural, it's as though the steps were made for him.'

She curled her lip in response, watching the haze of admiration that clouded her long-term teacher's eyes. She hadn't seen him wear that look for anyone but herself in a long time, and the resulting ripple of jealousy that ran through Blair twisted the features of her face.

'Besides, he is the only suitable counterpart we've seen for your talents in a long time. We must overlook the flaws of his character, I'm afraid, my dear.' He handed Blair her bag with an apologetic grin.

Not swayed by the afterthought compliment, or indeed his unwelcome reminder of the troupe's prior mediocrity when it came to finding a male lead who matched her calibre, Blair reached for her coat and left, adding not one more word to her futile protest.

Her partner, Charles Bass, known to his friends, and ever-growing list of lovers, as Chuck, was perhaps America's most unlikely ballet dancer. Unlike Blair, he came from new money, and a lot of it to boot. His mother had died before he'd had the chance to know her, and his father, a fire-breathing property mogul of the most chilling variety, had quite notably never attended one of his son's performances. It was a fact well known around the city that Bart Bass was disappointed in his son's choices; even though Chuck was a successful principal wherever he travelled, he found his son's career to be indulgent and frivolous.

If he cared at all about Bart's sustained absence and displeasure, Chuck had never let it be known. Instead, he rather made it his life's goal to seduce entire dance companies one by one. In fact, the gossips would have it that the reason he'd joined Blair's troupe was down to an unfortunate discovery made by his former teacher, who'd happened upon Chuck in bed with his wife, and no less than four ballerinas from the ensemble.

She'd heard the whispers about him when he'd joined of course. Frankly, it would have been difficult for anybody, no matter how disinterested they were, to have avoided them. The pace at which he'd re-energised his scandalous mission in his new settings might even have been impressive, if it wasn't so stomach churning. But what Blair had not expected to discover, was that he was even worse than the rumours suggested. The man had an uncanny gift for making young women everywhere rid themselves of their underwear when he drew near. Well, that was all besides her– even being such the illustrious lothario that he was, Chuck had been quickly able to identify that pursuing Blair was a fool's errand. Outside of his responsibility to their dances, he steered well clear of her, and that was precisely how she liked it.

Yet even though there was much she could, and often did, criticise about his personality and moral conduct, when the subject of his technique arose, no one could deny him. She loathed very much to admit it, but even Blair could see that he had been gifted with an ease of movement the other men in the company lacked. Watching a dancer like Chuck move was a rare joy that, behind her façade of indifference, Blair enjoyed very much.

Her mother's house was cool and empty when she arrived home, but she was not disappointed to find it so. Another month spent alone in the vast penthouse, with Eleanor in Paris again, had given Blair leave to spend her every waking hour in the studio. Only the gentle noises coming from her family's maid, quietly bustling in the pantry, let Blair know she was not entirely on her own. In the same fashion she had for so many lonely years, Blair traipsed the familiar route upstairs, shed her uniform and crawled into bed. When her alarm woke her the next morning, it felt as if she'd barely blinked.

Even still, the early mornings had never really bothered Blair; if anything, she enjoyed the short walk to the studio. The small hours of the morning did something magical to hectic, humming New York City; they made it peaceful. Watching the sun edge over the high rises to paint the sky pink, orange and blue in watercolour was a sweet and private indulgence in her oft-gruelling day.

Blair wasn't surprised to find the studio already abuzz when she entered. The dressing rooms were full of young women donning leotards, winding measuring tapes round and around their waists to check their measurements then check again, tying ribbons around their ankles and rubbing balm onto their feet. As the prima, Blair had a dressing room of her own, and she often kept herself separated from the other girls but for trivial chit chat. They thought her a snob and, in some ways, they were right to. But, having watched friend after friend grow tired of being outshined and turn against her, leading vicious but never successful campaigns to be assigned the parts she'd rightfully won, Blair realised she was better off on her own.

Her one real friend was the very same she'd kept since her school days; a statuesque blonde whose height, and general lack of rhythm, had stopped her pursuing dance much beyond children's ballet. That wasn't the only reason Blair stayed as close as she did to Serena, but it didn't hurt to be better than her at something, even if it was just that one thing.

'Pretty in pink, as always, I see.' His words shook her from her reverie.

Blair approached the door to her dressing room, where leaning lazily against the wall was Chuck Bass. She found it somewhat remarkable that every word the man uttered seemed to be drawled in such a manner, that one would be hard pressed to imagine he'd ever cared very much about anything in his life.

'It's my signature.' She affirmed, only a few steps away from where he stood. Blair couldn't help but notice that, even slouched in his easy posture, there was a beauty to the lines his body made.

'And how very well it matches your virtuous charm.' He offered, a sly smile playing with the corners of his mouth.

'I must say, I'm glad to see you've decided to grace us with your timely presence this morning.' Blair returned, ignoring his loaded compliment. Her voice was saccharine as she moved past him to reach for the door handle. Unabashed, he followed her into the room.

'Well,' He began, taking a seat in her chair and looking for all the world as if he belonged there. 'I'd hate to be late for you, your highness.'

She glared at him, but began removing her thick, winter layers until she was left only in her dancewear. Chuck didn't attempt to hide the languorous path that his dark eyes travelled across her frame.

'I'm sorry.' She brought her hands to rest on her hips. 'Is there something I can help you with, or have you just finally made your way through the entire company and desire some new bootlicker to toy with? Rest assured you won't find her in here.'

Unhurriedly bringing his gaze back to her face, Chuck smirked. 'Oh, and she's got a sharp tongue too.' He commented, his eyes twinkling as he lifted himself from the chair and made his way towards her. 'But you can relax, princess. We're working on our pas de deux today.' He reminded her glibly. 'I figured we may as well go to the studio together.'

'Oh.' Blair did her best to look through him and towards the door.

'Or, perhaps I simply couldn't wait to enjoy another taste of your trademark sunny disposition.' Chuck was teasing her, and she didn't care much for teasing.

Blair rolled her eyes and stepped around him, beckoning for him to join her along the long corridor that led to the studio. 'So then move it, I want to get this over with as soon as possible.'

'I usually prefer to take my time with girls like you.' He offered back lewdly, closing her dressing room door with a snicker.

Blair's lips twisted into a grimace.

'No, no, no!' Hugo's frustration thundered over the tinkling sounds of the piano and brought the music to an abrupt halt. 'It's still all wrong. You-' his accusatory index finger shot out at Blair. 'You're rigid. And you,' He levelled his gaze on Chuck next. 'You look awkward and bored. How are we supposed to outsell the Russians with a pair of leads that dance like brother and sister? This is a romantic tragedy, make me feel something when I'm watching you!'

Breathless and frustrated, Blair pulled her body away from Chuck's grasp. 'It's not my fault!' She insisted, scowling first at Hugo then her partner. 'He's not careful enough with me; I feel like I'm going to fall any second.'

'Well maybe if you weren't as stiff as a board, you'd be less difficult to handle!' Chuck shot back, his glare as harsh as her own.

'Me?' She cried. 'I never had a problem with a male lead at this company until you walked through the door.'

Chuck scoffed, looking her up and down with scorn-filled fury. 'Well then, perhaps the challenge of being matched with someone you do not stand head and shoulders above for the first time in your life is too much for you.'

'Enough.' Hugo interjected, moving his body in-between the sparring duo. 'The problem is not with either of your skills; it's your lack of trust. I need you to focus on that- it's the only way you'll get anywhere with this mess.'

'Please,' Chuck snarled. 'It's insulting enough that either of you think I'd drop her. I've never dropped a dancer in eleven years. Now I have to do trust falls with her like a little girl too?'

'I don't care what you have to do, just fix this.' Hugo snapped. 'I'm going to lunch. When I get back, I will have an improved second act pas de deux. I don't want to see either of you leave this room until your dancing doesn't make me want to claw my eyes out.' He shot them both a meaningful look before stalking out of the studio.

Blair huffed at the closing door. She didn't acknowledge Chuck, who had slumped against the mirrored wall and started tucking into a box of sliced cucumbers.

'What are we going to do?' He asked abjectly while crunching noisily.

'Damned if I know.' She said with folded arms, still refusing to look in his direction. 'Do you have to be so obnoxiously loud as you eat?'

'Apologies.' He offered flatly, bringing his teeth down even harder.

She ignored him a moment longer, but he couldn't leave well enough alone. 'God,' Chuck laughed. 'You've really got your panties in a bunch, haven't you?'

'Oh, my mistake. Was I supposed to appreciate you calling me stiff then?' Blair spat, cursing him below her breath.

'Blair.' He called her name gently. She ignored him. 'Blair.'

It didn't take long for her to crack. 'What?'

'Why don't you trust me? I've never dropped a girl.' Chuck's question was brimming with the salt of his damaged pride.

Blair looked over, regarding his face for the first time since they'd quarrelled. 'I guess it's just hard to trust someone you hate.' She offered with a shrug.

Her poison arrow did little to wound him; he simply laughed at her and carried on working his way through his snack box. 'Surely it's harder to hate someone you don't even know. You know, I bet you'd like me if you tried.'

Her plan to act a though Chuck didn't exist failing miserably, Blair relented with a sigh and walked over to collapse beside him. Leaning forward, she began to untie the ribbons on her shoes.

'Somehow, you make hating you as easy as breathing.' She griped, struggling with the tight knots. 'As a professional, I'm humouring you right now because I have to. But don't think for a second that we will ever be anything beyond colleagues.'

'That's pretty severe. I've never done anything to you.' He protested light-heartedly. Setting down his box to pull her left leg into his lap, he began unravelling the other set of knots. Blair let him for the sheer sake of speed but loathed his overfamiliarity. 'Are you just being a bitch because your feet hurt?' Chuck teased.

'Why? Are you going to try and rub them for me now too?' She rolled her eyes.

'I might, if you ask nicely enough.' Chuck purred. She was only half certain that he was joking and scowled.

Blair disregarded his flirtation, returning instead to his earlier question. 'You're just arrogant.' She asserted, pulling one pointe shoe from her foot as he tugged off the other and tossed it aside.

At this, Chuck laughed again. 'But so are you, appallingly so.' He gave her knee a gentle pat for good measure.

'And? I have a right to be. I've danced with this company for almost all my life- Hugo practically raised me. But you? You've barely been here a year and you think you run things.'

'So that's it?' He lifted her leg from his lap and she pulled both knees against her chest. 'You feel your precious reign is threatened by my otherworldly talent.' He deduced, smirking.

Blair laughed freely. 'In your dreams, Bass. But there's an order to things here- your very existence disrespects it.'

'You just need to get to know me.' He insisted, offering her the box of cucumbers. 'We should go to dinner.'

Blair shook her head. 'I think my limited free time is worth quite a bit more to me than to spend it cavorting with womanisers.'

Chuck's eyes lit and he grinned. 'Oh, now we're getting somewhere.'

Suddenly, Blair felt exposed. She observed him cautiously, staying silent as she pulled a sweater over her head.

'You're scared, aren't you?'

'Of you?' Blair scoffed. 'That's hilarious. How many times do I need to tell you I'm not threatened by you?'

'No, not threatened. But you're scared that if you spend time getting to know me, you'll find yourself unable to resist my charms.' He was beaming as he taunted her. 'Just like all the others.'

'Please, you're heinous… And ridiculous.' She raised her eyebrows at him. 'The sooner you discover that I'm nothing at all like all the others, the better.'

'You're certainly not like them. But I don't think you're as immovable as you say you are.' He spoke, as though pondering his very plan of action right there beside her. 'You see, you're curious, and it's curiosity that has been a big aid in my success. Women can't help but wonder if I'm everything the whisperers say. I can tell you're thinking about it now.'

Blair sneered at his suggestion. 'I don't even want to consider what it is you're referring to, but I can assure you that your extra curriculars are the furthest thing from my mind.'

'Oh yeah?' He edged a little closer to her.

'Yes.' Blair affirmed.

'Then why are your cheeks flushing such a delightful, rosy shade right now?' Chuck reached out to caress her skin- his fingers retreating before she had the chance to smack them away.

She shuffled away from him. 'It's just warm in here.'

'And yet you're wearing your sweater?'

Blair tugged at the corner of her sleeve and averted her gaze. 'I know you may find this difficult to comprehend. But not everybody thinks about sex from the minute they wake up to the minute they go to sleep.'

'Oh, but that can't possibly be true.' Chuck joked.

'Oh, but it so possibly can.' She muttered, shooting daggers at the blurry image of him in the mirror on the opposite wall.

He chuckled, then his eyes narrowed. 'Enlighten me, Blair?' Chuck husked. 'I had always thought the stuck-up virgin act was, well, an act. But do you ever let anyone into your powder-pink panties? You probably wear La Perla, right? You look like that kind of girl.'

For the briefest of moments, she wondered if her tag was sticking out.

'Are you seriously asking me if I'm a virgin?' Blair demanded, outraged.

'Oh no, I can tell you aren't. I'm asking you if you ever dedicate your time to alternative relaxation methods. Pilates isn't a fix-all for every kind of tension, you know.'

'I'm between boyfriends right now.' She stated, wondering why anything at all was still coming out of her mouth.

'So that's a no, then?'

'That's a drop it, Bass.' Blair warned, turning to direct the ice of her glare towards him.

Unaffected, he kept smiling. 'Fine, for now. But I'll figure you out soon enough.'

AN: Okay, okay, so I do know this is quite a stretch for an AU and the people want Puppets, not something random and new, but I was watching Black Swan recently and I just couldn't stop thinking about how gorgeous a Chair story where they're both dancers would be. Like, Chuck as a little sugarplum slut? Blair as the uptight prima who needs to have her pride challenged a bit? To me that is so yum.

But here's the 411, I don't really know all that much about ballet, since I haven't danced since I was a teenager! Therefore, if you are well versed in all things pointe and Swan Lake, I'm going to need to you to turn a very generous blind eye here.

Honestly, if you think this is a waste of time, don't hold back in letting me know (nicely though please, I'm sensitive), I know this won't be to everyone's tastes at all - I'm just enjoying typing out my own little Chair fantasy I suppose. Equally, I'd love to know if you're sort of into the idea, because I have the full outline written down very hurriedly in my notes app and I think it could be a fun little, whimsical AU fic to get me through these dark winter months.