Serena took steady strides in the direction she hoped was forwards. Her arms were laden with accessories, Chloe scarves and Marc Jacobs bags filled her vision. It was almost inevitable when the toe of her Viktor & Rolf boot was caught. She teetered unsteadily for a second before losing the battle with gravity.

She tumbled forward with a small squeal, falling face first into layers of Italian leather and a lean chest.

"Hmph," the body grunted, struggling not to fall back.

Serena recovered quickly, pulling herself up after checking that nothing had fallen on the ground.

With his St Jude's uniform and wide eyes Eric looked about twelve.

She wrinkled her nose, a playful smile covering her lips. "Oops."

He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "Uh uh, puppy-dog eyes might get you out of trouble with mom and the state of New York, but I'm a little too precious to be lost in a freak accessory avalanche." Mirth lit up her younger brother's eyes.

Serena gave a small pout. "What's it going to cost me?"

"Lunch. A real one too. I can't eat another jar of Nutella."

Since starting work at Elle, she and Eric had been having lunch almost every other day. She never asked how he got off school grounds, having a deep personal sympathy for those unable to waste six-hours of the day locked up in a classroom.

Serena scoffed. "Hey, you were not raised to disrespect hazelnut-chocolaty-awesomeness, mister. And besides, I always buy lunch."

"That's because some of us have disposable income," he said, eyeing her pointedly.

She rolled her eyes. "As opposed to the some of us forced to live off our family's meagre millions?"

"Exactly."

Serena shoved the pile of accessories into her brother's hands. He knew the drill well enough to return the items to wardrobe, making sure Kathy ticked off everything.

She hurried to grab her bag and tell Jane she was on her lunch break. She was lucky she got this job, even though she suspected it had a lot less to do with luck than Bart owning the building.

It felt more like a hobby than anything, she was sure that next semester or the one after would feel more like a college time. Now felt more like limbo. School had ended abruptly, and Gossip Girl's graduation jibe had stung more than she liked to admit. She didn't need a life of glamour and attention; she just didn't know what the alternative felt like. So for the time, she lived in static. No big career moves, no big location moves, and a home balanced uneasily between comfortable and broken.

Eric ate his gnocchi with a fervour that would leave the girls at work sobbing in a bathroom stall. Serena ate slower but with nearly as much relish, always watching her brother's movements from the corner of her eye. It was a comfortable silence, only interrupted by the clashing of folks when Eric attempted to stop his sister's from smuggling his food onto her own plate.

Serena reclined in her chair, as comfortable in the restaurant as she would be in her own lounge. "So what's school like without Blair and her sidekicks?"

"Nature abhors a vacuum. Jenny says second generation mean girls are nearly as bad. She said...Her mom—." Eric focused on the small unlit candle in the middle of the table. "Rufus and Alison's divorce went through."

Serena sat up, not so comfortable anymore.

"Apparently her dad's been rushing the whole thing," he continued blandly.

"Oh," she said inelegantly.

"Yeah."

What could she say? Hope you didn't get too comfortable? Better find the suitcases? He knew it all just as well as she did.

Serena watched as he carefully avoided her gaze. He'd made a very un-van der Woodsen like mistake: he'd grown attached.

It was everything she'd been trying to avoid. Treating Bart like a leper hadn't just been to distance herself. She'd though if she made it difficult enough maybe he'd leave them both alone. That had certainly backfired. Sneaky Basstard. She'd seen those occasional smiles with Eric, the manly slaps on the back. And if his interaction with her was as far from fatherly as it could be, it was still way too close.

Chuck was a different matter all together. He was the only one that had never forgiven her for leaving. His jabs and sleazy remarks that had once been for her were now all aimed at her. She'd gotten sick of trying to freeze him out and now hit back with childish insults every opportunity she got.

When her and Chuck had hung out, Eric was the only other person that Chuck treated like an actual human being.

She'd watched the way he pulled his new baby step-brother under his wing with an ironic tenderness.

It was a bad idea from the start. Sure a part of her knew that he was probably going to corrupt Eric, but a bigger part of her knew that it was better to be corrupted by Chuck than someone else, better to drink with Chuck than without, better to do Chuck's eccies than the creepy bartender's, that sort of thing.

But if that did ever happen she'd tell every escort service in the city that Chuck had the clap.

Now Eric liked Chuck. He was smart enough not to idolise Chuck, but had still found something admirable him. And when their mom dumped Bart for Rufus, they'd leave. Chuck Bass wasn't a middle of the road kind of guy. You were in or you were out. With the exception of the Georgina fiasco and this morning she was definitely out. No matter how much that hurt, she thought it would hurt more to watch Eric go through the same thing.

"Maybe we'll get to move to Brooklyn, see how the other half lives," she deadpanned.

Eric's lips twitched. "I think you've seen enough of Brooklyn up close and personal for the both of us."

XOXOXOXO

Chuck lounged against the dining table, bored eyes scanning the room. It was only an hour to midnight when his father had decided to leave work, not wanting to be outdone Chuck had stayed as well. The limo ride home had been a terse silence.

After throwing him one hard glance, his father disappeared up the stairs. He'd been about to leave, one second away from believing his father was going to keep his thoughts to himself for once, when his father re-emerged.

His jacket was gone and both hands were swiftly undoing his tie.

"Liang was a multimillion dollar account," Bart reiterated for the thousandth time.

Chuck clung to the illusion of boredom. "I was aware of that. I was just trying to—"

"Trying isn't good enough! You're a grown man; your life can't continue to be one mistake after another." Steel blue eyes watched him without an ounce of tolerance.

His life or him?

He pressed his lips together till the words he thought couldn't escape. He nodded at his father, lips curving into something definitely not a smile. "Of course, it won't happen again."

Chuck Bass backing down. He was so glad Gossip Girl couldn't see him now.

The front door opened cautiously. A blonde head peeked in before ducking out again. The door opened fully. Serena peered at them, her heels in hand, face alight with mischief.

Chuck smirked at her knowingly. For someone with her history, she was terrible at sneaking in.

"Oh," she said as eloquently as usual. She flounced into the dining room, not too upset about being caught.

Chuck noted her dishevelled appearance with a sly leer. Her yellow-blonde hair was a tumble of tangles and her peach coloured dress had ridden up her thighs in such a way that "revealing" would have been far too kind of a descriptor. When she got closer he could smell gin and another man's cologne.

The two Bass men watched as Serena went straight to the dining room, plucking a piece of fruit from the centrepiece. If her steps were straight and her movements precise, it certainly wasn't thanks to any sobriety.

His father's face was devoid of expression, his posture even straighter than usual. Chuck prepared himself for Serena's demise.

"It's a weeknight," his father said in a hard tone.

Serena was concentrating very hard on removing a skin from a banana."I suspected as much," she said not lifting her eyes from the fruit.

"You have work in the morning," Bart continued.

Serena's look was a clear "duh".

"When we agreed to letting you stay home and not go to college, there were certain conditions—"

When they agreed? Chuck nearly laughed. Serena had decided and veins in his father's forehead had bulged unattractively.

"Ba-art, I'm sleepy," she sang. She flashed him a brilliant smile. "Besides, I have work in the morning. I can't stand around chatting all night." Her primness digressed into drunken giggles.

Bart's expression remained icy for half a minute before slowly morphing into something between tolerance and amusement. "Fine. Goodnight."

"Oh it was," she breathed, contentedly biting into her banana.

Chuck's jaw snapped shut so hard, he felt it echo. His father just let it go. For a short skirt and a smile. It wasn't just insane, it was disappointing. This was Bart Bass—he shouldn't be falling for the same antics used to enslave sophomore boys and bouncers.

Bart nodded a dismissal in his direction clearly about to head to bed, but he paused when he reached Serena's side. "I've been impressed by what your supervisor reports. You've really been working hard," he said stiffly.

Chuck could feel his teeth grinding. He'd just worked for eleven hours trying to get some Malaysian asshole to launch his headquarters in New York and gotten a thank you in the form of why are you such a fuck up?

And now his father had given his approval to Serena—the van der Bass heir most likely to squander the family fortune on tequila and magic beans.

Serena chewed slowly, eyeing Bart with an expression so cynical it looked wrong on those angelic features.

His father disappeared down the hall without another word.

Chuck found his anger hadn't disappeared with his father. Closing the distance between himself and his step-sister, he eased a finger between the fabric of her dress. His finger slid along the silky skin between her breasts.

Serena's breath hitched. Not in disgust. She opened her mouth and Chuck was sure she was about to make a cutting remark.

"You missed one," he purred, indicating the gaping fabric where a button was undone.

Chuck left, unwilling to see that sliver of skin get covered.

Lying in bed that night, he picked up his bedside phone and, against his better judgement, dialled it. After a few rings the phone was answered. "S?" The groggy voice questioned. "This better be good, S."

He paused at her greeting, realising she must have seen the phone number and assumed.

At the lack of response Blair became worried, any drowsiness vanishing from her voice. "If there's a problem sweety, you—"

"I do have a small problem. Well, actually, I've been told it's quite large." He cut in blandly.

There was no response and he wondered if she was about to hang up.

"It's amazing what lies people will tell for a paycheque," she drawled.

"It's more amazing what lies people will tell themselves."

Blair sighed dramatically. "Is there a reason you called at this God-forsaken hour? I mean, apart from the joy you get from destroying whatever small happiness people find."

He didn't know why he called. Blair had slipped through his fingers, but he knew he was the one who let her. She still cared about him, he was sure of it. But he doubted that was enough. Blair didn't give out second chances.

And he'd lost her. He. Lost. And Chuck Bass didn't know how to play the loser.

"Is it true? You and Nathaniel?" He asked before he could think.

"As if that would be any of your business! Maybe you wanted me, but you didn't want everything that came along with it. And now, you're on your own, and that's nobody's fault but yours."

"I know," he agreed, uncertain what part he was agreeing with.

There was a long pause in the conversation, when their breath was the only thing that could be heard. Chuck wondered if she was lying in perfect darkness, imagining the feel of him, the way he was about her.

When Blair spoke again, her voice was quieter. "It's not true."

A small smirk formed on his lips before he could think what the sadness in her voice meant.

She continued in her usual brisk tone. "Oh and Chuck, about your very little problem? Go fuck yourself."

The line went dead.