AN: Still continuing to finish up these holiday oneshots. I do hope they're still enjoyable though technically not 'in season' (haha!). Thank you all for your wonderful reviews:) This one's a bit different in that it's more of a collection of interconnected vignettes than an actual oneshot. A quick note about the children: their personalities are quite apparent at a young age, and though Amory Bass' is not (he's barely a year old!), I hope his name will be somewhat indicative of his character. (Hint: This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald).

Silver Bells was written for 2010blueberry, another twitter lovely who is quite the writer herself. I had the honor of helping with an assignment which (lucky her!) explored the enigma that is Chuck and Blair. Not only that, but she's a fantabulous reviewer, friend, and all-around amazing person. Merry Christmas, B!

Bethaboo continues to be my beta extraordinaire, and I do so love her for it.

"Silver bells, silver bells

It's Christmas time in the city.

Ring-a-ling, hear them sing.

Soon it will be Christmas day."

-Silver Bells

Christmas Cards

"Mommy," Victoria Bass whined, small rosebud lips pouting as she mindlessly played with the fake snow, "this is boring."

"Just a few more minutes," Blair said through gritted teeth, attempting to clothe their youngest, Amory Bass. Even with the aid of Dorota, the task proved difficult as the barely-one-year-old wasn't having any of it, putting as much of a fuss and trouble as possible. His older brother, Spencer Bass, sat beside his father, captivated by the book in his hands

"Blair," Chuck tried, Blackberry in hand, "I have a meeting in—"

"Don't you dare leave before we take this picture," Blair hissed, and Chuck held up his hands in mock defeat.

"I'll cancel with your mother, then," Chuck said, and Blair narrowed her eyes.

"Why are you meeting with my mother?" she asked, still attempting to clothe a wailing Amory in his miniature sweater vest. And Chuck only answered with a smirk, further igniting Blair's fury.

"Where are the photographers?" she nearly growled, looking around the spacious Bass penthouse, as if men wielding lights and cameras were to appear at any moment. "The set designers, hair, makeup, were all here on time. Is it that difficult to get photographers who come on time?"

"You were the one who insisted on booking what's-his-name," Chuck countered playfully, and Blair, who finally managed to dress Amory, shot him a look of pure annoyance.

"Anthony Pierre," Blair corrected. "Only the best, he shot mother's campaign for Pre-Fall." She finished with another glare, the one that told him she would be withholding sex for a week if he didn't get something to go right.

At the same moment, Victoria, deciding that she'd had enough of being ignored, decided to take off her headband—a gorgeous band of red silk and seed pearls that matched her mother's shoes—and fling it at her unsuspecting brother.

"Hey!" Spencer cried, as the headband hit his glasses, landing with a clatter at his feet. Incensed, he proceeded to stomp on the headband, causing a shriek to erupt from Victoria.

"Mommy!" she wailed. "Spence broke my headband! The one Daddy brought back—"

Blair turned to Chuck, exasperated, and he scooped up his princess, placating her while Spencer tugged at his immaculately pressed pants, claiming that Vicky had started the fight.

Victoria, who absolutely loathed being called Vicky, continued to cry, until Chuck was left with two crying, wailing children. Blair, who had finally gotten Amory to settle down, turned to her two other children,

"Victoria, apologize to your brother," she said firmly.

"But—"

"Now." Blair said, and the two children knew that her tone meant serious business.

"I'm sorry," Victoria said, blinking innocently, "for throwing my headband at you." Spencer, who had dried his tears, smiled back at his older sister.

"I'm sorry for ruining your headband," he said quietly, and Victoria nodded. The two children turned expectantly towards their mother, who nodded in approval.

At that moment, Anthony arrived, with air-kisses and gushing over "zee adorable children", and they assembled in front of the camera, smiles in place.

Before Anthony had taken the first shot, Amory had grabbed a fistful of his sister's hair, pulling it gleefully. Victoria, in turn, cried out, elbowing Spencer in the side.

And Blair sighed as the chaos erupted once more, exchanging a weary look with Chuck.

"Let's just use last year's pictures from Vail?" he whispered, and Blair snapped to attention, quickly ordering her children back in place.

"Never," she whispered back.

Three hours, a trip to Bendels for a new headband, and one pair of ruined shoes later, Blair got her picture.

"Next year, we'll just photoshop them in," Chuck whispered.

Blair sighed, but nodded in agreement.

—

Christmas Tree

"We can't," Chuck declared, looking at the enormous tree Spencer had picked out.

"Why not?" Spencer asked dolefully, looking up at his father with a distressing expression. "I like it."

"Dorota would kill us," Chuck explained.

"Dorota likes me too much," Spencer countered. "She always gives me extra cookies."

"Mommy would kill us," Chuck reasoned, taking in the sheer size of the tree. If they ever managed to get it into the penthouse, it would be a miracle.

Spencer shook his head, "Nuh-uh. Mommy would never. She says that about you a lot, though," Spencer realized, his small brow furrowed.

Chuck heaved a sigh, and then tried a different tact. "We'll never be able to get it into the penthouse, Spence."

"No!" Spencer exclaimed again, clearly frustrated with his father's attempts at thwarting the perfect tree. "There's big doors that we can bring it through!"

"We'll need at least twenty people," Chuck tried again, though one look at Spencer's determined features and he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"We can hire people from Brooklyn," Spencer said expertly, and Chuck had to laugh at the statement.

"Have you been spending too much time with your mother?" he teased, and Spencer's expression instantly became serious.

"It's not my fault you're always on planes, Daddy."

The statement struck ice into his heart, and all lightness had been removed from the situation as Chuck kneeled down, face to face with his son.

"I'm not always away," he insisted.

"I see Mommy more than you," Spencer said, kicking at snow with the toe of his boot.

"Spence…" Chuck began uneasily, knowing that his absences from the children had not gone unnoticed. It was a point of contention between him and Blair, but he was trying. He hadn't missed a birthday, a soccer game, a ballet recital, or a holiday yet. That was more than Bart could claim.

"I know," Spencer said with a sigh, continuing to look down at the snow. "Mommy says you're important. And one day, I'll be important too."

"She's right," Chuck murmured. "I'm trying, Spence. I'm trying to be here and I'm trying to be CEO, and I'm trying to keep the board happy, and I'm trying to make sure you guys see me more than once a week. I'm—"

"What's a see-eee-oh?" Spencer interrupted, his natural curiosity overcoming his former despondence.

"Something you'll get to be one day," Chuck said with a wry smile, and Spencer stretched out his tiny arms, wrapping them around his father's neck.

"Ms. Davies says it's not how many stars you get. It's how hard you try," Spencer said wisely, and Chuck wrapped his arms around his son, relishing the moment. "And I think you get twenty zillion stars for trying, Daddy."

After a moment, a moment in which his throat seemed unable to produce words, and there was an uncharacteristic dampness in his eyes, Chuck released his son.

"We'll get the tree," he said, and Spencer smiled happily, running ahead to tell the man waiting on the sidelines.

On the limo ride home, the massive tree following behind them, Spencer turned to his father.

"I think it's okay that you're on planes sometimes," Spencer began, as if he had been planning the speech for quite some time, "but you love us, right?"

"Of course," Chuck said, the only words he had managed to get out.

"And you love me best, right Daddy?" Spencer asked innocently, blinking up at his father.

Chuck nodded conspiratorially. "But don't tell your sister."

Spencer clapped in glee, and then assured his father that Victoria was certainly not privy to that sort of information anyways.

…

"Daddy," Victoria asked as the door opened. "What is that?"

"A tree," Chuck explained, and a few weary men carried the most enormous tree Victoria had ever seen. Chuck merely stood by, overseeing the production as Blair descended the stairs, wide-eyed.

"Chuck," she said warningly, and Chuck merely shrugged.

"Spence chose it," he claimed, and Spencer, who was grinning proudly at his mother, nodded.

"Where are we going to put it?" Blair asked incredulously, taking in the sheer size of the tree. The five men, who had just carried the colossal tree twenty-seven flights of stairs, nearly groaned at the prospect of having to bring it back down.

"Right there, of course," Chuck nodded towards the cleared space in the foyer, one meant for a smaller, more modest tree.

Blair shook her head, "Chuck, there's no way building management is going to let that tree in here."

Chuck merely shrugged. "They've been taken care of."

Blair frowned, and was about to argue when Spence turned to her, eyes baleful.

"Please, can we keep the tree?" he asked plaintively, and Blair relented with a reluctant nod.

As the children swarmed around the tree, Chuck related his and Spencer's conversation to Blair.

Blair looked him in the eye, noting the slight distress that had permeated his words.

"They don't have to work for your love," Blair said simply. "That's enough."

"I promised I wouldn't be an absentee father like—"

"And you kept that promise," Blair assured him, then they turned towards the tree, and their children, which were very nearly hidden beneath the tree's breadth.

"I suppose we'll be needing to buy extra presents to fill up the space under the tree," she pondered aloud with a laugh.

"Then it's a good thing you married one of the richest men in New York," Chuck smirked.

Blair only rolled her eyes, and the family descended upon the boxes of tinsel and enamel ornaments, with Blair deciding the color scheme was to be red and gold, and Spencer simply putting ornaments around as far as he could reach.

In the end, the tree did not befit the rest of the Basses' penthouse décor. If anything, it was simply a medley of differently colored ornaments, clumps of tinsel, and strings of lights.

Blair knew that she wouldn't be able to stand the tree, but at the delighted look upon Spencer's face, decided that this Christmas, their tree could be less than perfect.

—

Mistletoe

"Anna!" Victoria greeted her best friend, the blonde Anna Humphrey, with a smile, and Serena and Blair exchanged a smile over their daughter's heads. The Humphrey's annual holiday party was in full swing and though Dan had formerly shunned all forms of society events, had grown to (somewhat) accept the Upper East Side.

Even though the Humphreys technically lived in the Upper West Side.

Their two girls rushed off, and Blair looked after the two of them fondly, remembering similar experiences with Serena.

"And there's my favorite godchild!" Serena was saying, happily playing with Amory, who babbled happily in return.

Spencer, having tucked himself into a corner and was now reading his book, was soon joined by Dan, who had often found himself drawn to the young Bass. In the same way Victoria embodied her parent's headstrong, confident, and sometimes temperamental personalities, Spencer was quieter, more reserved.

Though Chuck and Blair had initially frowned upon such a friendship, the Basses had learned to tolerate Dan Humphrey—if only for Serena and Spencer's sake. Barbs were still traded in terms of Dan's Brooklyn roots and Chuck and Blair's elitism, but they had forged an odd sort of quasi-friendship.

"What are you reading?" Dan was asking, and Spencer looked up at the intruder, a tiny frown on his face. His parents' disdain of Dan Humphrey and Brooklyn was evident, but Spencer couldn't understand what his Mommy and Daddy (and Victoria) found so repulsive.

"It's an old book," Spencer told him, showing the worn cover off proudly. "It was Mommy's."

"The Wizard of Oz?" Dan said incredulously, thinking it amazing that a five-year-old would be reading such a prodigious story.

"I don't get a lot of words," Spencer admitted sheepishly. "But I like the pictures. And I know the story anyways."

"You've seen the movie?" Dan guessed, small smile playing on his lips.

"No!" Spencer shook his head vehemently. "Mommy reads this story to me a lot. I like it."

"What's your favorite part?" Dan asked, and Spencer launched into a description of the Emerald City, and the way his mother had described it to him, eyes sparkling and babbling excitedly.

As Chuck and Blair exchanged glances regarding Dan and Spencer's odd relationship, they moved off to the side, Serena continuing to carry a conversation with them, greet her guests, and play with Amory all at once. Turning around, Amory on her hip, Serena smirked at the two.

"Look," she said happily, pointing above their heads. "Mistletoe!"

Chuck looked at Blair, devilishly handsome smirk playing at the edges of his lips, and Blair simply rolled her eyes and without warning, the two were wrapped in a kiss that made Serena squeal and cover Amory's eyes as she walked away quickly.

Their children happily occupied, Chuck wrapped his arm around Blair's waist, smirking as he suggested they re-visit Serena's coat closet.

And Blair had agreed with a wicked smile of her own, pulling him along in the direction of the enormous hall closet.

When the emerged a while later, hair slightly disheveled, clothes mussed, Serena and Dan had given them matching dirty looks, ones they ignored. Instead, the two made their rounds, chatting easily with other members of New York's elite.

Until, they found themselves in a corner, Victoria rushing up to them with glee in her eyes.

"Mommy!" she said excitedly, launching herself at her parents. "Guess what?"

"Yes?" Blair asked, smoothing her daughter's hair with an amused smile.

"I just had my first kiss," the girl confessed, her eyes bright as Chuck's expression darkened. "It was like everything you ever said—"

"What?" Chuck exclaimed, then, off everyone's curious looks, lowered his voice, crouching down to eye level with his daughter.

"My first kiss," Victoria explained pointedly, and Blair had to stifle a laugh with the back of her hand. "Under the mistletoe, of course."

Chuck swore lightly under his breath, and then stomped off in the direction of Serena, his expression livid.

Blair, meanwhile, simply gathered her daughter into her arms, marveling at how big Victoria had grown.

"Who was it with?" she asked, and a moment was shared between mother and daughter as Victoria giggled excitedly, then launched into an explanation of Kieran Reed. Blair recalled herself in Victoria as her daughter told tale after tale, eyes animated and cheeks flushed.

"…and then he kissed me, on my cheek, Mommy," Victoria was saying confidentially, the girlish excitement present in her voice. "Right under the mistletoe, like those old movies you like to watch."

Blair looked at her daughter fondly, and then assumed a sterner expression.

"You know you're only seven," Blair said, and Victoria rolled her eyes.

"Of course, Mommy," she said with a huff, before running off to find Anna. Blair shook her head with a smile, and then made her way to her husband and best friend, knowing that she would need to save the latter from the former.

And as she approached the two, her suspicions were confirmed as she caught bits and pieces of their conversation, most of which consisted of Chuck berating Serena for having mistletoe around when there were seven-year-olds present.

—

Christmas Morning

"Daddy bought each and every one of my presents personally, Chuck," Blair chastised Chuck, who lagged a few steps behind her in Saks, bogged down by the ridiculous amount of shopping bags they had already amassed.

"Your father was ga—"

The venomous glare she threw over her shoulder shut him up quickly, and her next comment closed the subject.

"We're buying our children's presents. I'm not having your assistant do it. She can buy presents for the Humphreys. I'll buy Serena's, of course. And Anna's."

"That would just leave Dan," Chuck pointed out, but knew that his point had been ignored when Blair continued to walk away. "We've been shopping for nearly eight hours—" Chuck attempted to reason, but Blair ignored him, turning to the monogrammed stationery in hand.

"We've got all of Amory's presents," she said, smiling as she folded up their youngest son's list (which had been compiled by his parents), "but we've still got to buy a first-edition Winnie the Pooh, for Spencer."

"And Victoria?" Chuck prompted, knowing that their daughter's (or rather, Princess') list was by far the most extensive.

"We got most of it," Blair said, frowning at the list, "but we've still got to buy her twenty cashmere sweaters, thirty tarps, eleven pairs of shoes, and seventeen different board games."

"The rest are understandable," Blair began, brow furrowed as she browsed through racks of glittery Mary Janes and soft leather pennyloafers, "but tarps? What, is she going camping?"

"You camp in a tent," Chuck pointed out, only to be on the receiving end of another quelling frown. "Maybe she wants to play a game."

"Victoria's past that stage," Blair said with a shake of her head. "Dorota tells me she refuses to play with Spencer anymore."

Chuck shook his head, effectively dismissing the subject with a few words. "It's no problem to buy the tarps—but we may want to send Larkin out to do that. A Bass has never stepped foot in a hardware store."

"Neither has a Waldorf," Blair was quick to add. "I suppose we'll see what she plans to do with thirty tarps on Christmas."

"And the sooner we finish the shopping," Chuck said with a lascivious smile, "the sooner we can get to the early Christmas present you promised—"

"Oh," Blair said, absentmindedly turning away from the shoe display. "I forgot to mention, my mother called to say she and Cyrus won't be able to take the children tonight. Something about place settings and the wrong flower arrangements—"

"Well," Chuck said smoothly, "there's always the limo."

…

"Mommy!"

Blair silently thanked God that she'd had the hindsight to force Chuck into putting on a pair of pajama pants, and donned a silk slip herself, after their, ahem, reminiscing in the limo the night prior.

Their children were far too inquisitive—not to mention, light sleepers—for their own good.

And Victoria and Spencer ran into their parents' room unbidden, shrieking and yelling and tumbling over themselves.

"Santa came! Santa was here, Daddy! You should see the presents—"

"Darling, let us get dressed," Blair said wearily, as Victoria attempted to drag her half-asleep father out of bed.

"Five minutes!" Victoria said authoritatively, and she and her brother marched from the room, their footsteps and excited speculations clearly heard by their parents.

"I suppose we should get out of bed," Blair said, but before she could step out, a warm arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.

"We've been told we've only five minutes to get dressed," Blair said in amusement.

"Five minutes is plenty," Chuck murmured, kissing her shoulder before maneuvering her below him.

…

"That was not five minutes," Victoria said twenty-eight minutes later, as her and her brother sat pouting on a couch, staring longingly at the tree.

As their (slightly disheveled) parents stepped into the room, Blair placing Amory in his bassinet beside the couch, the two finally lost their frowns, glancing expectantly up at their parents.

Chuck waved a hand towards the tree, and the two descended upon it furiously, until they could barely be seen beneath a mountain of gold and silver wrapping paper, and cherry red bows.

When the chaos had finally cleared, the presents pushed aside after being ooh-ed and ahh-ed over, breakfast was to be brought up, as per usual, for the Basses.

But before Victoria joined her family in their dining room, she hung back, quickly sorting a portion of her presents into a separate pile. Chuck, noticing her odd behavior (she was usually the first one to the table—the better to get the most strawberries) hung back as well, watching her from behind a marble pillar.

The presents that she laid aside were the ones he and Blair had been confused over—the thirty tarps. Along with the tarps, she laid aside the cashmere sweaters and shoes, as well as the seventeen board games. Satisfied, she took one last glance at the two piles, and then turned on her heel, to proceed into the dining room.

"What were you doing?" Chuck asked conversationally, and Victoria gave a small start, unaware that she was being watched.

"Sorting my presents," she explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Into what piles?" Chuck pressed, and Victoria frowned. Hadn't she told her parents this before? She remembered her teacher telling the class, and her subsequent idea; hadn't she informed her parents that she'd had the most wonderful idea ever?

Apparently not.

"I'm giving those away to charity," she enlightened, a small smile spreading across her face. "Ms. Rochelle told us a story about boys and girls who had no toys on Christmas, and then she told us we could help by giving them those things."

"Cashmere sweaters and tarps?" Chuck asked dubiously. The latter he could understand, the former he could not.

"Mommy always says cashmere is the best," Victoria said expertly. "And not to do things half-way."

"Of course," Chuck said with a wry smile, and he and Victoria entered the dining room, and he turned to his daughter, who was attempting to get into her chair.

"Victoria would like to make an announcement," he said formally, and she turned to him, startled.

But his nod was encouragement enough, and Victoria launched into story after story about boys and girls who had been good, but Santa had missed them year after year, and their tables were empty and stockings barely filled. She finished her tales with the same words her teacher, Ms. Rochelle, had told them.

"We all can help," she said imploringly. "And I wanted to help."

Spencer, who sat in his own chair, napkin already across his lap, fork poised in hand, nodded as well.

"I want to help too," he said, clambering to stand atop his chair, just as Victoria had done. "I want to give away some of my presents. I don't need them all."

And brother and sister shared a rare smile, one that years of sibling rivalry had rendered a miracle.

"We'll go after breakfast," Blair said with a proud smile, one that almost instantly turned to a slight expression of reprimand. "But first, sit down, and don't stand on your chair again, Victoria. Spencer, please don't bring books to the table."

The two children stuck their tongues out simultaneously at their mother, who only shook her head sadly as their father smirked.

And so, on Amory Bass' first Christmas, Spencer Bass' fifth, and Victoria Bass' eighth, the impeccably dressed family descended upon New York's homeless shelter. Though Victoria had had a bout of uneasiness, drawing back into the depths of her red coat.

But when Spencer had ventured forward, giving one of his presents and a tarp to a small boy around his age, sitting beside his mother, waiting for their lunch, Victoria had been spurred to do the same.

Until all the presents were gone, and Spencer turned to his parents with an imploring look.

"Are those all the presents we get to give away?"

fin