Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl just the specific story I choose to bring the characters into.
A/N: The response I've been recieving for this story so far is absoloutley amazing! Thank you to everyone who continues to read and review and make my day with their feedback and enthusiasm, it really helps to keep the story flowing. Once again, major props to kate2008 (: Happy reading ~
Warning: There are a few sexual scenerios throughout this chapter, nothing too detailed.
Chuck: Let's take it slow this time. Do it right.
Blair: Blegh... Chuck Bass is a romantic, who knew?
Chuck: Now you do, and it's all what it matters.
-- Gossip Girl
Chapter Four:
The theatre was dark, lit only by the meek floor fixtures that sprinkled down both sides of the three main aisles, Henry preceded his parents as he searched the numbers on the rows, holding the ticket Blair had handed him before they had gathered to go inside. His boldly yellow bowtie glistening in the near darkness as his brows furrowed in concentration, checking and re-checking the white ballet, the caliber of the task commandeering his attention.
Mark's hand rested firmly on Blair's lower back, pressing against her mauve dress as their footsteps followed their son down the center aisle. A few small groups of people peppered the near empty auditorium, a perk of being rationally early. She had anticipated the restless boredom awaiting an eight year old boy during his sisters two and a half hour recital and had decidedly shown up early in order to bestow upon him a rite of passage, a journey unto which responsibility began in tiny increments. A journey which also included a package of cookies, his Nintendo DS, and a few actions figures of various superheros hidden away in her purse - be them needed.
"Mommy, Daddy" he called, waving to them from a few rows down "I found them!" his voice rumbled excitedly, his posture straight with pride at completing the task as his finger pointed to three seats four rows away from the stage.
Mark's hand slid off her back in one fluid motion, a gratified smile on his lips in praise of his son, bending down he checked the ticket clutched by Henry, matching the numbers and letters to the seats marked, standing to receive a forceful, clapped high-five before inching into the row and sitting, gesturing for the family to follow. Blair closed her arm around Henry's shoulders as he marched in beside his mother, closest to the aisle. She quietly noted the satisfaction of his very grown up mission already diminishing, the ebullient smile subtly replaced with a nonchalant stare and droopy eyelids. Briskly she retrieved the DS from her purse, dropping the entertainment into his lap with a kiss on the top of his head.
"The deal is" she started, leaning into her son's ear as he nodded gratefully, "you have to keep it on mute okay?" He nodded again, his hazelnut hair flapping slightly with the movement "Yeah, okay mommy."
A spotlight snapped on, echoing through the auditorium, the fresh hum of the newly formed crowd decreased as people began filing in all at once. Vivienne appeared from behind the thick green curtain, her short hair in styled disarray as she addressed the parents and relatives of the pupils in her class.
"Hello everyone, and welcome to the pre-spring recital." It was time, and those who tripped into the auditorium were cutting it very close to late. "Without further ado, I introduce to you, La ballerinas," she moved backwards off the stage as a stream of applause encouraged the girls who were revealed in a line as the curtains drew back. Mark's hand shifted onto Blair's, catching her eye quickly before flipping her palm over, squeezing it in anticipation. She offered a small laugh, her attention caught entirely on their daughter as she moved onstage. A beam on her lips to rival any other, blithe in her practiced steps as she made them, gravitating in the orbit of focused admiration, the attention was heaved onto her and with each twirl a section more of it was absorbed gratefully.
The melodious tune of the orchestra produced light notes of a past symphony, providing a melancholy tone, pushing at Blair with ardor. Maneuvering her hand from underneath her husband's she placed it quietly on her lap, eyes glued to the stage as Mark threw her a questioning look. Questions, questions, so many questions she would not answer. She shuffled away, the armrest digging into her hip, away from his touch, his breath, his glances, his lips, his words. His questions.
Abruptly she recalled herself just as swiftly as she had forgotten, her stomach turning with lust as she whispered into Mark's ear "I told you so."
He grinned wildly, questions muted for a later time, his mouth pressing against her cheek, "She gets it from you then, I'm hardly able to do the two step."
And just like that the heaviness of the tension dissolved, and they were as they had been for years, a husband and wife in love. The secrets between them insignificant and ordinary, as they watched their daughter prance about the stage, emitting a confidence and contentment that Blair had never known at her age. While their son, enthralled in his videogame, looked up every once in a while, a dull sigh at the ready.
The way he saw it, he had exactly two options, a definite markdown from the thousands of possibilities that presented themselves as he had stepped into Victrola a few hours previous. So, evidently, it was the way he was beginning to see it as he winced down shot after shot of alcohol and scantily clad woman after scantily clad woman danced about on stage rather seductively.
Unfortunately neither of the options involved any extra marital affairs, although he was definitely itching for something within that magnitude, deciding only that it was better to invest in the fantasy of being an eighteen year old boy again - without the sticky golden jewelry of commitment wrapped threateningly around his finger.
He could wander over to his penthouse at the palace but surely Abby would discover his moderately drunk self asleep on the clean sheets...
Okay, one option. It was simple and yet interlaced with uncertainty, he could just go home, mumble an unnecessary apology and climb into bed, a bed not void of Abigail but shared with her, an argument to be dealt with in the morning. He stood, walking out into the night, outside on the street raindrops pelted his coat as he clambered into the limo.
"My Hamptons estate" he belted out, before rolling up the dividing window.
Blair sat on the edge of the bed braiding her hair loosely, her exposed skin turning gooseflesh as Mark brushed his teeth in the bathroom. The frigid weather of winter had set upon their house, a pronounced and often unwelcome visitor that kept everyone raw and ardent for the sweetness of spring. Little conversation had passed between Blair and Mark on the drive home, both children fast asleep by the time the car pulled up to their brownstone.
Dorota had gathered up purses, bags, and backpacks while Mark carried a groggy Henry up the limestone steps and into the house, venturing towards his bedroom. Blair carefully pulled Tula from her seat; she awoke disorientated, clutching her mother's neck as she settled onto her hip. Her porcelain skin translucent under the deep yellow of the streetlamp as she adjusted her head on her mother's shoulder, while Blair struggled to close the car door. Between shuffling the kids upstairs, bidding them goodnight with a stained kiss to the cheek and the faint aroma of Mark's cologne as he mimicked Blair's gestures, there was nothing to be said, no time to escape from the moment to be alone.
He stood in the doorway to the bathroom, watching his wife as she tied an elastic around her shoulder length hair. A determination set about his strides as he cut the distance between them and sat beside her, "tell me a secret" he inquired into the nape of her neck, his fingers sliding down the silky sheen of her slip, pausing at her tailbone.
"What kind of secret?" She teased, her head turned away from him as his lips moved towards her ear, nipping at her skin.
"Any kind of secret, something spectacular, something marvelous, something amazing," the dialogue was primitive to their relationship, the scene had played out year after year since their first anniversary, Blair's favorite tradition of speak.
"Hrm," she pondered, rolling her bottom lip between her front teeth, "I hated the shirt you wore tonight."
He looked up at her, pushing her backwards and climbing on top of her, "It's an Eleanor Waldorf original!" He cried, feigning tears as he sat straight up on his wife's abdomen, bearing the bulk of his own weight in his thighs.
She giggled before pounding her fists on his bare chest lightly, shaking her head from side to side.
"Exactly, that's why I hated it," She pouted for emphasis "Every woman in there was wistfully staring at you the entire night. It was dreadful and irritating." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, her lips to his.
"Promise me something?"
"Mmmm?"
"Never, wear it ever again," her tone was flat and serious, yet joking all at once. Mark smirked, "I promise."
"Throw it away" she countered.
"I'll burn it," he answered, jumping up from the bed, Blair sat up as Mark's hands reached for the hem of her slip. Lifting her arms with impatient want, the silk moved up and over her, the weight of the braid thumping against her neck as he tossed the article of clothing aside. A cage of butterflies released themselves in her stomach, thrashing about with barbaric familiarity, skin to skin.
His hands slid to her breasts, kneading them gently, a moan escaping her slightly parted lips, a pleading silence. He complied by discarding his own clothing, entering her wetness in one solid motion, a unified tangle of limbs and desire.
Mark's breath, his lips, his touch, his glances; she could not be filled enough with them.
Chuck rolled onto his back, groaning roughly, a clammy hand rubbing his eyes while he attempted to adjust to the brilliant morning sun that filtered through his bedroom curtains. Propping himself up on his elbows he fumbled backwards a moment before steadying himself. Looking down only to regard that he had fallen asleep fully clothed on top of the covers, his lemon bowtie crookedly tied around his previously crisp purple shirt, his feet still showcasing the shiny Italian leather loafers over argyle patterned socks.
He reached a hand up, attentively touching his mussed hair when his cell phone rang, a shrill discordant tune breaking the thin film of silence. Standing up quickly he reached for his pocket a moment before finding the offending noise and promptly opening it.
"Hello" He said, sounding as if he had stuffed gauze in his mouth.
"Chuck hi, it's Blair Wal-Hutlen, Blair Hutlen."
"Hi Blair," He ran a hand through his hair anxiously as he waited for her reply. Wondering what time it was he cast his eyes on his Rolex realizing that it was almost noon and cursing himself for answering his phone.
"Hi Chuck, listen" there was a moment of silence as she moved either towards something or away from it on the other line "I don't know why you're doing this but I propose that if you're going to-"
"Doing what?" His tone was sharp, his head was pounding and he was in no mood to be verbally accused of anything, he wasn't in the mindset to ward off or plaster fake anything into any type of conversation. Clearly though he would have to, a conversation with Blair would entail mounting on his innocent charm, given he had masterfully looped himself into her life again without even the slightest of her knowledge.
All he wanted was a cup of steaming black coffee - no sugar, no milk - and maybe a scone. None the less he persevered, his voice smooth honey.
"If you called to invite me to lunch I'm afraid I have to inform you that I am otherwise engaged today."
She continued as if she had not heard his witty remark, "I'm calling to accept your invitation to dinner, my husband and I would be very pleased to spend a night with you and your wife." She was all business, her tone holding no informal means, he was just another man who was investing his pocket change in her husband's cause and she was complying as best she could to the conditions of the support he had promised.
"Wonderful," Chuck had wandered out of the bedroom and into the washroom, pressing the cell phone between his shoulder and neck while he slicked his hair into perfection.
"Great listen,"
"You've said that twice, evidentially Waldorf I am in fact listening,"
"Whatever Chuck, I haven't told Mark about you and I'd really appreciate it if we could keep the intimacies of our acquaintance private."
"How private?" He questioned with amusement.
"We're friends from high school, although never great friends, basically born into the same social circles, not much more than that" she bit out with aggravation.
"Fine, I suppose having been sleeping with me for several years on and off during our seemingly unimportant acquaintance would be entirely inappropriate anyway."
"It would, are we in agreement?"
"Agreed. My assistant will call your husband with the details"
"Okay. What about your wife?" she questioned as an afterthought.
"She doesn't know anything about you Blair, don't worry."
"Oh okay, bye Chuck"
"Wait," he said urgently before having a chance to collect himself, as he stepped outside and into his waiting limo.
"Yes?" She asked her voice free of contempt.
"I was not actually unimportant to you was I? I mean - looking back" Fuck, what was he doing, what was he saying?
"No," her voice was barely above a murmur as she processed his idiotic question, "you weren't."
"Good to know." He cleared his throat, "Bye Blair." Without a second thought he closed the phone and leaned against the door, watching the trees as they pulled out of his Hamptons estate.
Blair sighed heavily as she placed the phone back into its cradle. No Chuck, you are simply the co-creator of the two most important humans who happen to possess my heart; the same if not as much as you once did.
Leaning against the wall she ran her thumb nail over her bottom lip several times...
"Chuck?"
His fingers ran around her waist as he dropped his chin in the crook of her neck. She twisted to greet him with a kiss before turning herself back to window, his head returned to its previous position as they watched the city below. People hurried by, braving the strong wind as it rattled the tree's and brushed newspapers and debris into the air. Blair shivered subconsciously and he pulled her further into his chest, tightening his grip on her waist.
"Looks like snow" he remarked.
"You think?"
He nodded, "Look at the clouds."
"I suppose" a smile tugging at the corner of her lips "it is almost November after all."
"Almost, almost" he rolled the word around in his mouth "It's winter and it's almost your birthday."
She ran her hands along his forearm, it was true but it wasn't what she was thinking. Shivering again she took notice of the coldness in the suite.
"You're cold, I'll go light the fire" he whispered, kissing the nape of her neck before releasing his grasp. Blair glanced up at the clouds before heading into the living room "And I'll order room service."
"Mommy" Startled, Blair backed into the wall a little, snapping out of the memory and she processed her surroundings taking in Tula and Henry as they stood in front of her. "Mom?" Tula repeated a questioning look on her face as she placed her hands on her hips - all too reminiscent of a gesture Blair made when she was confused or angry.
"Daddy said to tell you that breakfast is almost ready."
"Oh he did, did he?" She grabbed the twin's hands as they headed out of the living room and down the hall "And what did he make this morning?"
"Eggs benny!" They squealed in delight, Blair laughed. Of course - Saturday was eggs Benedict and morning scrabble as always while Sunday was French toast and early cartoons.
"Charles, is that you?"
Abigail was painting her toenails a deep red, splayed across the bedspread as she flipped through a magazine and waved around her hand to help it dry faster. She didn't look up from her magazine as he appeared from behind the hallway wall "Hi Abby." She snapped her gum, cocking an eyebrow at him while he placed his coat and briefcase on a chair.
"Where were you all night?" She was angry but he guessed by the nonchalance in her tone that it was degree's less than the previous night.
"I stayed at Neil's." She absolutely hated it when he left the city without her, and if he told her the truth he would never be able to escape to his Hampton's estate in peace without her trailing him. She also loathed Neil with a passion but the penance for a night at his bachelor pad would be considerably less than the long term commitment of divulging one's secret getaway.
"I figured" she scoffed, practically ripping a page out of the magazine as she flipped it.
"I thought you had a meeting to go to today," he sat on the very edge of the bed furthest away from where she laid.
"Nina changed all my appointments to Monday" she replied flatly.
Chuck didn't bother to ask as he undid his shoelaces and slid his feet out of the Italian loafers.
"I want a divorce."
He was taken aback, his heart pounding against his ribcage.
"What?"
"There's one thing I want Chuck and you're refusing to give it to me. I've given you two years of my life, two of my best years, and I think I'd rather spend the majority of the rest of them with someone who will actually make an effort."
He twisted to observe her as she sat up, shaking her blonde hair about her shoulders, brushing the magazine off to the side. Her eyes fixed on his with steady intent as he fought to discover an appropriate response.
"Abby ... I know you want a baby but what about your career?" He was taking petty shots in the dark with shaking hands but he had to try. "What about our vacations, our homes, our free time. All of that would have to change, permanently."
"So? I'm 27 years old Chuck, I think I can go with a little less free time. Besides, we would hire nannies and still do what we do, and once he - or she - got old enough it would just be a matter of taking him - or her - with us."
He nodded, anxiously scratching his elbow as they talked. How could you explain to someone that you didn't feel ready because it's a lifelong commitment that would bind you eternally to one person, one moment in time? A piece of himself he could never get back once he decided to give it away, away, away to Abigail. His wife. It was unorthodox, he should be eager to pro-create with her, she was a beautiful cunning business woman and yet he was hesitant.
"I don't want my children raised by nannies." It was all he could honestly say, if he were to have children with his wife, babies who cried and squirmed and rolled around on the hardwood floor, he would be there to witness it every day. Maybe even record it in one of those highly over-rated leather bound baby books.
Abigail could sense that she was wearing down the falls, crumbling them brick by brick, her eyes shining in pre-won defeat of the great Chuck Bass's firm ruling.
"Then we won't hire nannies Bassey, we can be there for everything" She stretched into his lap, looking up at his angular chin as he looked towards the window.
"Are you so sure Basshole?"
"I would bet my company on it"
Blair rose from the couch, running towards the bedroom, minutes later she returned with a photo album between her hands.
"Bass industries you say? Prepare to legally sign it over," he grabbed her by the wrists pulling her onto him, peals of laughter erupted as the photo album slipped from her grasp.
"Chuck!" She whined, squirming between laughs as his lips made contact with her chest. He worked slowly towards her neck, suckling on a piece of flesh before taking each of her hands and rubbing them against his lips delicately. He burned for her and he was powerless against the love that pulsed through him like wildfire.
She reached a hand up, rubbing her fingers against his light stubble and moving to cup his cheek.
"I'll give my company to you whether or not there is a picture of my seven year old self in that album."
"What if I don't want it," She straddled him and moved closer to his lips "What if I want everything, everything you could possibly give me?" The impact of their lips dug Chuck into the back of the couch. He didn't have to say anything; she knew he was hers for the rest of their lives, permanently. Forever the property of one Blair Waldorf and he would give her the world, or as much of it as she craved.
His hands moved under her shirt and she sprung up, a mischievous smirk on her lips as she reached for the discarded album. Chuck sat up, moaning with displeasure at having to stop his exploration in favor of the search for a photo. Her hair fell in a shiny curtain around her face as she skimmed the pages. Hours later, or so it seems when one's beautiful girlfriend is occupied with a picture while you have a massive erection, she held up the correct page to his eyes. A tiny Chuck next to an equally small Nate who had his arm wrapped around a miniature Blair who's other hand was held steadfast by the taller Serena as they smiled at the camera outside of Serena's 7th birthday party.
Blair threw the album onto the floor once the point was proven, snuggling between Chuck, running her tongue from the base of his neck to the tip of his chin.
"For my first act as the newly appointed head of Bass Industries ..." she drawled, "I strongly suggest you kiss me."
"Charles?" Abby questioned a confused look on her face as she rose from his lap "Hello?" He answered her with a kiss, prodding her tongue with his own. Seconds later they were naked, his fingers working at her center with expertise while she mounted him, eliciting a guttural moan as he entered her. "No condom?" She whimpered, leaning into him as he thrust into her; he reached around her neck pulling her closer to him as their foreheads touched, "No condom."
He was reserving the most important piece of himself for a woman who had married another man. A woman, who would never be his again, shared memories the only evidence of their love, the only remembrance of their time together. Ignorance for his past devotion under the scrutiny of her husband, and it was time he left the feel of her silky smooth skin under him behind. Time to grow roots where roots were pleading to be grown.
"I know."
"How do you know?"
"I just know, okay?"
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Blair rested her head on Chuck's chest as they laid in bed, he leaned to place a kiss on the top of her head with a smirk.
"So let me get this straight, one day we're going to get married."
She nodded, laughing.
"Isn't the boyfriend supposed to propose?"
"I'm not proposing, I just know."
"What else do you know Ms. Waldorf?" He asked, combing her long chestnut hair with his fingers.
"Well" she began, tracing a fingernail around his nipple, "One day we're going to have children. Not today ... but one day." She winced in anticipation of the tension of his muscles, in the hardness of his voice she was sure that she had just unleashed. His muscles remained relaxed; his voice was soft in the night air.
"I think I'd like that, when we're ready that is."
"You would?" her voice cracked in surprise.
"I would instantly love any child that had your eyes."
"And your jaw line,"
"Mmm, let's not forget your lips"
"Your hair"
"Your laugh. The real one, when you're truly happy, not when you're trying to please someone."
"Your smirk" She countered, "I'd let him get away with almost anything then."
"I could see it now," he joked, skimming her cheek with his thumb.
"So could I." Blair laughed and it reached her eyes, a truly happy laugh, free of the need to satisfy.
A/N: So what did you think?