Warnings: TWT, as cracky as ever, and implied S/Ba (nothing gag worthy).
The duck consommé was not nearly as bad as Celia "CeCe is acceptable" Rhode's expression implied.
CeCe had spent the amuse bouche, prelude, and starter charming Bart, criticising Lily, being underwhelmed by Eric, suspicious of her new grandson, and shooting sidelong glances at every glass of Freycinet Chardonnay Serena consumed.
Her arrival had brought out super-hostess Lily, a woman who served six-course meals, adored her husband, and mothered her children.
Chuck had been her grandson for under forty-eight hours and despite the crisp skirt suit and pearls, was already feeling outclassed by the woman.
He'd been almost hesitant to follow through with the plan. It had worked out so well: Blair had found the files; the past had been as dirty as they'd suspected; and even more useful than they could have hoped for.
But an illegitimate child? It was like going for a game of paintball and finding out you were using real bullets: it's still fun, but losing becomes a whole lot more risky.
He'd almost waivered, remembering that this was his almost-family that he was scamming. And as messed up as things were, losing just wasn't an option.
But Blair had been decisive, suggesting that they take it to Rufus, leave him running from the dark corners of the UES as fast as his Sear's loafers could take him.
Too risky.
The Brooklyn never-quite-was would probably want to find the kid, and that would lead to family thoughts and that wasn't a place Chuck wanted a Humphrey mind to ever go, especially not in relation to a van der Woodsen.
Lily had been out of the question. He couldn't alienate her from himself, the son of the man they wanted her to fall deeply in love with, or at least pretend to feel affection for. Besides, Lily was a UES native—being blackmailed by teenagers was hardly beyond her scope.
So CeCe it was. The original schemer would be brought into the fray to finish off her own dirty work of burying Lily's booties-wearing disgrace.
Chuck eyed the woman with the same curiosity he'd give a venomous creature. She was everything the UES stood for: layers of illusion with hidden depths of deceit.
It had been rather easy to get her to come. She was all too willing to meddle in her daughter's affairs, and if Chuck hadn't been present when Lily had received her scolding, he suspected it had been more than apt. With the threat of scandal overhead, Lily had little choice but to run back to the safety of her billionaire husband.
And Bart had little choice but to remember who his wife was. And in the process forget Serena.
No one was particularly happy with the new status quo.
Chuck clung to his cutlery a little tighter every time Serena let out one of those too-bright laughs.
And he didn't feel bad.
Because that was Serena getting fixed. It just looked a whole lot similar to Serena breaking.
And this must be what success felt like.
After dinner Eric disappeared into his room and Lily and Bart took the theatre tickets CeCe had bought.
CeCe and Serena moved to the sitting room. Neither spared a glance for Chuck.
That night last week put something uncomfortable between Serena and him.
She had just looked so delicious in her white singlet, on her cotton sheets. And Blair had been there, as perfect as Serena was imperfect. And he'd wanted.
He still wasn't sure what.
He was never one for resisting temptation, but he'd expected New Serena to. He should have realised that the New was starting to look a lot more like the old, just a whole less honest about it. He shouldn't be surprised when women get foggy on the subject of age.
He went to his own suite where something pretty and soft was already waiting on his bed. He took off his shoes and bowtie and was naked before he crawled into bed.
"I've been—"
"Don't talk," he hushed.
He'd asked for red hair and green eyes, but found that he couldn't care less. Because when his eyes shut his mind strayed to chocolate curls and golden tangles anyway.
He'd kissed a lot of girls this week. Not that it usually stopped there (some of it paid for, some not).
Because a kiss didn't mean anything. Not to him. Not ever.
But maybe if he tried hard enough with the woman arching into his hands, he could make them (and one in particular) mean even less.
XOXOXOXOXO
It had been over a fortnight since CeCe had left, taking with her the last of Serena's laughter.
Serena pushed off the desk again and again, forcing the chair to twirl endlessly.
She didn't know what had happened. She wasn't sure when it had happened. But she knew things had changed.
Eric didn't come for lunch with her anymore. When he did emerge from his bedroom his smiles were wan, and he rarely met her eyes.
Her mother was around more, but her attention seemed more divided than ever.
Chuck was playing games of hot and cold, she didn't know the rules and she wasn't sure she wanted to play. She was caught somewhere between impressed and revolted by his recent show of debauchery. The flashy clubs and flashier women he was constantly consuming were like a merry-go-round: annoying, attractive, and oddly hypnotizing. And who's ever content to just watch? Even when you've sworn you're too old to ride...
Serena closed her eyes, making her spinning world seem even less stable.
Rides were a bad idea. Chuck had been her friend, and then he'd been something close to an antagonist. And now he was her stepbrother, and the son of the man she was currently...There weren't words for what her and Bart were. Well, there was, but none of them were pleasant.
"Serena." Bart's voice made her pull her legs up to her chest, letting the chair complete its last few spins.
She ended up facing a blank wall. "Hey," she greeted, tilting her head back when she still felt like she was falling.
Bart gently moved the chair gently till it was facing his desk again. If he was surprised to find her in his work office in the middle of the day, his face didn't show it. He leaned against the edge of his desk, stretching his legs out in what passed as a relaxed pose.
"Sonny didn't say you were in here." The why was merely implied. Bart didn't staff incompetence and his fresh out of grad school assistant was no exception.
"I asked him not to," she replied, fluttering her eyelashes for a reminder that the pretty boy behind the desk outside hadn't stood a chance.
"Run out of shoes to gush over at Elle?"
"Never!" she cried in a scandalized tone.
She fingered the photo frame on his desk. It was one taken at Christmas by a kitchen-hand. She was in the iconic position under the tree, eyes fixed on the open box before her. Chuck stood behind her, smirk in place and eggnog in hand. Lily was fiddling with Eric's collar while Bart watched it all, his expression only slightly less stoic than usual.
It had been the day after they'd had sex for the first time.
Lily had been a no-show and Serena had been coming down from a week-long post-Dan related bender.
She'd caught Bart staring at the Christmas tree in the dark, sipping a nightcap. He'd started his much practiced get-in-line spiel, but hadn't been able to summon the energy to finish it.
Everything about that night was filtered through the soft glow of exhaustion, alcohol, and fairy lights.
In a fit of vulnerability he'd answered her question about where her mother was honestly. With the Humphreys had still been a nausea-invoking phrase for her.
And when she'd stolen the drink from his hand with a laugh, he hadn't been able to find the fatherly concern to scold her. His lips had almost quirked when she'd reached up and stolen a sprig of mistletoe to flick at him, completely bewildered at the prospect of someone with so little respect for his name, so unintimidated by his ruthlessness.
When she wrapped her arms around his neck, lips meeting his with nothing tender and everything exposed, he'd known that she was acting on contempt. But God had it felt like need, and tasted a lot like desire.
He'd wrapped his hands in her hair, pressing them closer. Because he was bitter that the family he'd envisioned for Christmas was the only thing he couldn't build. And the girl in his arms might have been part of the cause, but she was definitely the most beautiful destruction he could have hoped for.
Serena tried to forget that Chuck and Blair had actually been holed up in Chuck's bedroom. And that at some time Blair had seen things that sent her rushing back to the room to lock the door and ensure that Chuck under no circumstances saw what was happening under the Christmas tree.
Bart reached out to still her nervously restless hand. She was feeling stupid for coming. No, she was feeling stupid for wanting to be here with him.
"I'm getting bored of lunching by myself," she explained, voice laced with self-derision.
Bart seemed to weigh her words, as if hearing more than she said. He nodded thoughtfully. He pressed a button on the desk phone. "Sonny, come and take our lunch orders."
She smiled brightly in relief. She'd half convinced herself that he'd tell her he was busy, send her out of his office like the unwanted stepchild she almost was.
Things had changed. Things that made him still when she reached out to touch him, pull away from their kiss first, hesitate when she pulled her shirt off.
For a time his cool demeanour had seemed to slow her world down, as if having something so secure and rigid to focus on had made it impossible to drift. But now he was pulling away from her in a million tiny ways and she didn't know why. Couldn't guess what she'd done. Unless being herself was once again just not enough to make a guy hold on.
And the ground beneath her feet was feeling shaky again. She was drowning in the need to move, to do and just stop thinking. The let's-be-family speech was coming and she didn't want to be sober when it did.
She told animated anecdotes while they ate their rolls and sipped their coffees. He gave her half-smiles and exasperated looks at the more ridiculous stuff. She felt almost comfortable again.
She stood to leave, knowing she wasn't going to make it back to Elle on time anyway. When she leaned down to kiss his cheek, she pretended not to notice the way his grip tightened almost imperceptibly on his coffee cup.
She didn't make it back to work.
She called in sick from a bar and lounge that made superb highballs.
~R&R~