A/N: I've been kind of drifting this story, 'cause I was a little uncertain...But, oh well.
Warning: Sex, language, all-round inappropriateness. [MA] and I'm super cereal, you guys. Don't come crying to me when your eyes sting from trying to scrub them clean with bleach.
Serena stared at the unmoving traffic outside her window. Her mother hadn't come home last night. She couldn't remember what her excuse had been, but it had involved a children's hospital and an ice sculpture. She assumed that was code for a loft in Brooklyn and a rugged looking divorcee.
To make this an even more Lilly-esque family scene, her mother roped her, Eric and Chuck into attending MOMA's function to "represent" the family. Serena though it was rather apt to send a depressed youth, future alcoholic, and life-long sexaholic.
She passed her empty glass to Chuck who wordlessly refilled it from the limo's bar fridge. He poured himself another as well.
The ride had been oddly sombre. She and Eric stared out the window while Chuck stared at them. She should have lightened the mood, forced her brother out of his own world, but she couldn't quite find the energy.
She knew he wasn't happy, knew he'd been spending too much time on his own.
"Want one?" Chuck asked, lazily indicating his own glass.
Eric's eyebrows rose in surprise, but he held out a hand. Chuck leaned forward to pass Eric a glass. Intercepting them, Serena snatched the glass from Chuck's grasp. In two gulps she'd downed the dry scotch with a slight grimace.
Eric watched her with a shocked expression.
"What are the rules when mom's out of town?" Serena asked lightly.
A half-smile formed on Eric's lips. "Do as you say, not as you do. And never listen to Chuck." The first half she'd been telling him since he reached junior high. The second was a recent addition.
She no longer felt bad about the hypocrisy, having realised years ago that her brother was just plain better. He deserved higher standards. "Uh huh, and remember it, if you don't want to see Chuck drenched in his precious liquor."
She tossed the glass back to Chuck, smiling as a few droplets of scotch rained on his dark blue Ralph Lauren suit. He caught the glass in mid-air.
"Thanks, sis. " A deep scowl was etched on his features.
The car finally came to a stop. Stepping out of the limo last, she let Chuck help her, more out of habit than any need. As stupid as it was, she felt pleased to be touching him again, especially in public where he couldn't use his once friendly touch to torment her.
Together they were probably the most eye-catching duo. Her Tony Bowls burnout chiffon gown in scarlet and black and Chuck's brilliant yellow shirt didn't exactly blend into a crowd.
When they entered the museum Serena quickly found Blair and Nate looking at a painting in one of the front rooms. Blair was wearing a Jill Stuart mini, her arm resting on Nate's.
"Ooh, I like it," Serena exclaimed, coming up behind the couple.
Blair made a disgusted sound turning around. "Yes, stealing Buddhist motifs and blending them into annunciation pictures—how edgy."
Serena eyed the bright canvas again with its tiny gold Buddha in the centre. "Well, okay then."
Nate gave a lopsided grin. "Hey guys."
Before Serena could reply Blair latched onto her, leading them away from the boys. Serena happily followed her friend, linking their arms together. "I'm so glad you're here. I was already planning a daring escape through the bathroom window."
Blair ignored her, coming to a stop in the emptiest corner.
"Your hair looks amazing." Serena reached up to touch the dark locks held in an intricate chignon. Blair slapped her hand away. Serena giggled, rubbing the back of her hand. She was always amazed by Blair's level of perfection. Her hair was in a messy bun, her nails covered in chipped peach nail polish—being together just wasn't her thing.
Blair settled her hands on slim hips, looking fierce and a little scary to everyone who wasn't Serena. "Enough. Where's Lilly and Bart?"
Serena rolled her eyes, knowing no bathroom window would let her escape from Blair. "I don't know. Bart's working. Supposedly mom's in Maine looking for some ice-sculpting recluse."
Blair's frown deepened. "That's ridiculous. Nobody who matters would live in Maine."
"Uh huh, that's what's ridiculous."
"I don't want you staying with that creep." Blair's eyes fixed determinedly on hers.
Serena felt her face heat, really not wanting to get into this. "Blair—"
The petite brunette held up a commanding hand. "Don't try to sweet talk your way out of it. Don't act like this is nothing. And don't you dare pretend I'm overreacting."
Serena twisted a blonde tendril around her fingers. "I live with him. It's really not like that," she said quietly.
Blair let out a haughty laugh. "S, you were drunk. I was not. I'm not the one confused." Blair's hands fell from her hips, her face softening. "Come home with me. Dorota will make your favourite," she tempted.
She knew she should. Knew that if she didn't she'd be stupid all over again. "I'm fine. I'm not a total screw-up."
Blair didn't hide her disbelieving glance. She reached out grabbing Serena's hand that had been tugging at her own hair. "Please."
Serena bit her lip, knowing how hard it was for Blair to plead for anything. Stubbornly she shook her head. "Everything will be okay," she lied. She will not be something to fix.
Blair threw her hands up dramatically. "Fine," she hissed, spinning on her heel.
Serena waited a second before following. She'd just have to be extra charming. Blair would forgive her.
Eventually.
XOXOXOXO
Chuck had convinced Eric to spend the night in 1812 with him. With Lilly gone his father was being more of an ass than usual. The kid could do with some down time. Hash would have been perfect, but when it came to drugs and Eric, Serena was a total Blair.
But she hadn't specified anything about entertainment of the naked variety. Chuck rifled through his bedroom in the family's suite, looking for something that would appeal to Eric's decidedly more... narrow taste.
Tonight had been good. Better than good. Nate had been the charming slacker, Blair had been especially uptight and whip-tongued, and Serena had been enchantingly outrageous. It was as if she'd never screwed Nate on a barstool, as if he'd never done Blair in the back of his limo.
Maybe they could go back to being friends with messed up sexual tension.
He triumphantly held up a DVD case in one hand, the other holding his nightcap (the first of many). He headed down the hallway. If he was gone for too long Eric would just go to bed and Chuck wanted them to have fun for once.
"You hid it from me?" Serena's voice travelled down the hall.
Grinning, Chuck ducked beside the door to his father's office. This really was becoming a favourite place. He learned such interesting things, and now he was going to have the joy of watching his father endure one of Serena's adorable, but incredibly loud tantrums.
The door was half-open, but from his viewpoint he could only see Serena. She was still wearing her scarlet gown. Her hip was popped up on the desk, a glass of champagne by her side. He took a sip of scotch, watching as Serena got in full self-righteous mode: arms crossed, chin raised, navy eyes flashing.
His father's voice wasn't nearly as loud or gruff as he'd imagined. "You went through my safe?"
"Well you shouldn't have given me the code if you didn't want me to use it. And that's not the point!"
He gave her the code?!
"That was for emergencies," Bart informed her curtly.
"What kind of emergency? Freak whirlwind and we need gold bars for paper weights?" She demanded. "You hid my father's letter from me!"
"There was nothing in it you needed to read," Bart replied, as if talking about the Observer.
Damn straight.
"That was my decision! Mine!" Serena took a deep breath, lips twisting into a small smirk. She took a sip from her flute. "You have excellent taste in champagne. Heidsieck certainly knew what they were doing, though they really should have gotten the van der Woodsen's for shipping."
Oh shit.
Bart was silent for a moment. "Is that my...Did you open the 1907 Heidsieck?"
Chuck prepared to intervene in case his father attempted to go after the droplets of the quarter of a million dollar drink she'd already swallowed.
Serena lowered her eyelashes deviously. "I did. And it's lovely, thank you."
Bart's words were slow and careful. "You shouldn't have done that." His father appeared in his line of sight, standing directly in front of Serena.
"Oh no? Prove it." In a quick movement Serena knocked her glass over, its contents quickly soaking the papers on Bart's desk.
Bart took a step closer, pinning her between his body and the desk. "I'm not sorry. I was protecting you." One hand cupped Serena's neck, his thumb brushing along her jaw line.
Serena pushed Bart's jacket off his shoulders. "Well, I'm not sorry either."
Chuck's nostrils flared. He was clinging too tightly to his scotch and couldn't seem to stop.
Bart's fingers slipped underneath the straps of Serena's dress, with a single move the bright material pooled at her waist. She stood and the dress disappeared all together. Serena was left standing in strapless black bra, and matching panties. Her hands disappeared under Bart's shirt, smoothing their way up his sides till they could pull his shirt over his head.
She pushed herself back onto the desk, sweeping soaked files to the floor.
Her hands disappeared from sight, but Chuck imagined that she was unbuckling his father's pants with practiced ease.
Chuck was more than glad that most of his father's body was blocked by Serena's.
"You really shouldn't have touched my champagne," Bart reiterated sternly, leaning forward to capture the lobe of her ear in his mouth. Serena let out a small sigh.
"That's what I shouldn't be touching?" She laughed.
He was Chuck Bass and he would watch unflinching.
Her head tilted back, and Chuck could see his father's head bent over her breasts. Golden waves brushed varnished oak. Her hands slid backwards till elegant fingers could clutch the edge of the desk.
It wasn't as if this was the first time he'd watched his father with one of his whores.
Bart slipped her underwear down long, tanned legs. She watched him with languid sapphire eyes, her smile a mix of mischief and cynicism. Bart entered her hard and fast, in a movement so sure Chuck knew this couldn't be their first time, or their second, or their third...
And she was his father's whore, because if she was more, if she was his S...
Serena let out gasp of pain, which Bart smothered with his lips. Bart's pace remained harsh and punishing, and soon pain sounds turned into pleasure ones.
His eyes fixed on the way her back arched, the way her arms strained. He blocked out his father's deep breaths, the name on her lips.
Well, that would be fucking sick.
Chuck closed his eyes, unable to watch how this concluded, though he could guess the ending. He listened to her moans, and husky pleas. He didn't open his eyes when his glass shattered in his hand. He closed them tighter when he felt the shooting pain of glass entering his palm.
And oh God, why could he still see peach nails clawing into oak?
He fled down the hall, echoes at his heels the entire way. He made sure to grab the open bottle of champagne on his way out.
E/N: Bleach won't help.