Reminder: This story is still rated M. Consider yourselves warned :)
Chapter 9
Chuck was just exiting his hotel, headed towards Friday afternoon happy hour, when he felt his phone vibrate inside his pocket. He pulled it out to see Serena's name lit up on the screen.
"Hey sis," he greeted her.
"Hi Chuck!" she said cheerily. "I just wanted to check in about me and Nate visiting."
"Oh." Chuck was taken aback. "Already? I thought you were coming on the…" He trailed off, racking his brain for the date.
"…the eighth?" Serena finished, sounding slightly worried. "That's… next week, Chuck. Did you forget or something?"
"Oh. No. Of course not." Damn, July had really flown by, he thought. "Well, don't worry about getting over here. I'm sending a couple of BI execs back to New York late Tuesday night, so the jet should be refueled and ready to go whenever you need it on Wednesday."
"Oh, good," she said with evident relief.
"And you're staying here with me," he continued, as he walked briskly towards the pub. "The rest of the hotel was already booked, but the penthouse has plenty of space. I hope you don't mind."
"Nah," Serena said. "It'll be more fun to stay together anyway, like a big… slumber party."
"Just stay away from my Jacuzzi if you're heavy-handing the Cuervo," he offered wryly.
"You're never going to let me live that down, are you," she grumbled, and he chuckled in response.
There was a beat of silence, and then he heard her clear her throat.
"There was just, umm, one other thing I wanted to ask you about," she began, sounding uncharacteristically tentative.
She hesitated a moment longer, as if trying to decide how to phrase her question.
"I was just wondering if you'd given any thought to … inviting Blair?" she asked finally.
Chuck came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the sidewalk. The man behind him cursed under his breath as they nearly collided.
"I mean, if you don't want to, that's totally fine," Serena went on hurriedly. "I just wanted to ask, because… well, Nate and I haven't said anything to her about it. We just didn't want her to feel…. left out, or like we didn't want her to come… but we do have to tell her something eventually. I mean, I think she'll probably notice if we both just leave the country for four days." She emitted an awkward little laugh.
Chuck said nothing, his mind awhirl with ambivalence.
Of course he wanted Blair to come. He hadn't seen her in more than two months.
He missed her smile. Her glare. That fluttery little eyeroll thing she did when she was particularly exasperated.
He just missed her, pure and simple.
But that was exactly why her visiting wasn't a good idea. It was one thing to be "just friends" when she was on the opposite side of the Atlantic, but being with her- without actually being with her- was just downright masochistic.
He knew how strongly he was drawn to Blair. He knew how little willpower he possessed whenever she looked at him with that wicked gleam in her eyes. And he knew that if they didn't keep things platonic, if they spent a few days pretending to be a couple… there was no way in hell he'd be able to let her go again. Knowing him, he'd probably end up hocking his new hotel chain on eBay and following her back to Manhattan like a lovesick puppy.
"I don't know, Serena…" he said finally.
"No, you're right," she immediately backtracked. "I didn't mean to… put you on the spot or anything, Chuck. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."
Blair had used the exact same words a few weeks ago, he realized. When she'd tearfully apologized for telling him how much she missed him.
His heart gave a painful little thump.
"It's not that I don't want to see her," he tried to explain. "It's just that with the way things are between us…"
He suddenly became aware that he was standing in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, and began making his way towards a more secluded side street.
"No, I get it," Serena reassured him. "It's my fault, really. I should have told her weeks ago." She sighed into the receiver. "I'm sure she'll understand though."
Of course, Blair would understand.
But he also knew she would be hurt. She wouldn't admit it to Serena, and certainly not to him, but she would feel purposely excluded and lied to.
And the thought of Blair sitting at home, sad and alone, while the three of them caroused around London together- that wasn't what he wanted, not at all. He probably wouldn't even be able to enjoy Nate and Serena's company with that scene playing in the back of his mind.
Heaving a deep sigh, Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
"Actually, I think you should invite her," he said at last.
A moment of stunned silence followed.
"Chuck, I really don't want to… pressure you into anything you don't want to do," Serena said cautiously.
"You're not," he assured her. "I know the situation is a little… complicated, but… Blair and I are friends…"
(no matter how many times he said that, it never quite sounded right)
"…and we're actually in a really good place right now, so there's no reason not to invite her," he finished.
"Are you sure?" Serena asked, sounding doubtful.
"Absolutely," he said, with far more conviction than he felt.
"Besides," he added, "it's been a long time since the four of us hung out together. It'll be fun."
"Okay, well… awesome!" Serena said, regaining some of her prior enthusiasm. "Do you mind if I ask her tonight? We're supposed to go out for drinks later on."
"Sure." Chuck couldn't help smiling at her eagerness. "Just text me your ETA before you take off next Wednesday."
"Sure, okay. See you next week!"
Once he'd told Serena goodbye, Chuck lingered where he was for a moment, rubbing one hand across his jaw.
He'd meant every word he'd said to her. He really was looking forward to all of them hanging out again, and he and Blair were in a good place right now. There was no doubt about that.
But he also knew that this situation was fraught with potential pitfalls, and he didn't want to risk screwing up all the progress they'd made over the past few months. Which, he suspected, was exactly what would happen if he ended up alone in a room with Blair and a bed.
Or a table, or a dresser, or a… floor.
He had to admit, he'd never been very good at keeping their relationship platonic. And after two months of abstinence- probably a personal record for him- he wasn't feeling particularly confident about his ability to resist her.
Clearly he was going to have to call in some reinforcements.
Thumbing down his contact list, he selected a name, and hit "call."
.
.
"Wow, these turned out gorgeous." Phoebe gazed admiringly at the stack of proofs laid out across the café table.
"Antoine did do a wonderful job," Blair agreed, just a hint of satisfaction in her tone.
The two sipped their coffees as they perused shots of the two models posing by a cab, a fountain, a horse-drawn carriage. They were holding hands and laughing like the dearest of friends. And of course, showcasing Eleanor's fall line beautifully.
The photographer, whom Blair had found through Roman's Vogue Paris connections and flown across the Atlantic at the very last minute, had done an impeccable job.
Probably because he'd incorporated all of her suggestions, she thought with some smugness.
"He's been out there awhile," Phoebe suddenly commented. "I hope it's nothing serious."
Blair followed Phoebe's line of vision towards the front window of the coffee shop. Nate was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk outside, his cell phone held up to his ear.
His brow was crinkled in concentration, but he didn't look upset.
"Oh, he's fine," she said dismissively. "He's just… thinking really hard."
Phoebe watched as Nate tucked his phone back into his pocket, ran one hand through his tousled hair, and then headed back towards the entrance.
"Sorry about that," he offered in excuse, as he slid back into the seat beside them.
"Spectator stuff?" Phoebe asked, glancing at the photos Blair held up for a side-by-side comparison. She pointed to the left one and gave a thumbs-up, and Blair stashed it in an "approved" pile.
"No, it was just… Chuck," Nate replied.
He realized his mistake immediately when Blair's gaze darted upwards, fixing on him with the intensity of a laser beam.
Attempting a blasé expression, Nate took a sip of his coffee.
"Oh, right, do you guys have your trip all planned?" Phoebe inquired, picking up one photo for closer inspection.
"Trip?" Blair echoed, looking between both of them. "What… trip?"
Nate tried to catch Phoebe's eyes and silence her with a little shake of his head, but her gaze was still on the picture in her hands.
"You know, the London trip. Next wee-"
Phoebe was interrupted by a sharp yelping sound. Nate had attempted to shut her up with a panicked kick to the shin underneath the table.
And he'd missed.
"What the hell, Nate?" Blair stared at him indignantly as she rubbed her injured shin.
Phoebe just raised her eyebrows, nonplussed.
"Uh, sorry, I was trying… to, uh…" he stammered.
"Kick me instead so I would stop talking?" Phoebe supplied wryly. "Nate, you never told me that your visiting Chuck was supposed to be a secret."
"It's not!" Nate insisted. "I mean…" He glanced at Blair, and then back at Phoebe. "It's complicated," he finished lamely.
Two pairs of brown eyes studied him with identical expressions of skepticism, and Nate was suddenly a little disconcerted by the similarity between them.
"Sorry," he murmured sheepishly.
Blair returned to flipping through her photos with slightly more vigor, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief that she'd misinterpreted his awkwardness.
It wasn't about the trip, per se- Blair would find out about that from Serena soon enough. What really made him uncomfortable was the fact that Chuck had recruited him to be his designated chaperone/bodyguard/cockblocker. His assignment, which he'd accepted only after considerable persuasion, was to keep Blair out of Chuck's bed for the duration of her visit.
He did understand his friend's reasoning, twisted though it may be.
But that wasn't going to make Nate's task any easier. A battle of wits with Blair Waldorf was not a particularly… favorable matchup for him, and he was legitimately afraid of how she'd react once she realized what he was doing. Which should take her all of… half an hour.
Blair glanced up again, her eyes narrowing suspiciously on him.
He just averted his gaze and tried to look as oblivious as possible.
It was his go-to strategy, and it had never yet failed him.
"Anyone want a scone?" he offered as he rose to his feet. "I think they just brought out fresh ones."
.
.
Wearing a flirty strapless black dress and chunky turquoise necklace, Serena was perched on a bar stool at Butter, languorously swirling a cocktail in one hand. She pretended not to notice the attention she was receiving from the bar's male patrons- after all, it was girls' night out- but she still couldn't resist the occasional toss of her hair, or the unnecessary crossing and recrossing of her long, perfectly-tanned legs.
Suddenly, she felt the room buzz with a strange new energy.
The couple seated behind her murmured softly to each other. The two girls at the end of the bar exchanged knowing looks. The guy beside her took an inordinate interest in his cocktail menu, plainly- to his credit- trying not to stare.
Serena knew that Blair had just walked into the room before she'd even turned around- only a recent public scandal could elicit that kind of attention. But she was struck by how unperturbed her friend seemed by all of the attention.
Clad in a raspberry-colored cocktail dress- the fitted bodice and full skirt emphasizing her tiny waist, a pair of zebra-print platform stilettos elevating her petite figure- Blair strode through the crowd like she owned the restaurant and everyone in it.
She spared only a single disdainful glance for the couple behind Serena, quelling their whispers with a haughty raise of her eyebrows.
"Hey S!" she said cheerfully, sliding onto the adjacent stool.
After ordering a martini from the nearby bartender, she turned back towards her friend with a warm smile.
"Wow, someone's feeling chipper," Serena observed.
"What, I'm in a good mood." Blair shrugged. "It happens."
Serena looked at Blair for a moment, her eyes narrowing shrewdly.
"Work going well?" she guessed.
"We got the proofs back for the magazine spread, and they look… fabulous," Blair said proudly. "The photographer even told Laurel how much he loved my ideas, and she asked me to help style the outerwear shoot we're doing in August."
"B, that's amazing!" Serena nudged her shoulder with a wide grin. "Only two months and you're practically getting a promotion."
"Well, it's not that big a deal," Blair demurred.
But she couldn't prevent a satisfied little smile from turning up the corners of her mouth.
"What about, um…" Serena lowered her voice, glancing to her left and then her right. "Your sessions with Dr. Sherman? They must be going well, right?"
It was something they hadn't discussed in detail- Blair generally preferred to "leave her crazy at therapy," as she put it- but Serena couldn't help asking about it occasionally, out of concern for her friend.
Blair tilted her head to the side as she considered the question.
"I think so," she finally conceded. "I mean… it's not fun, by any stretch, but… he thinks I'm making good progress."
She paused to accept the martini the bartender slid towards her, giving him a polite nod.
"If nothing else, I've managed to go a full month without doing anything crazy or stupid," she added wryly, as she lifted the drink and swirled it gently in her hand.
"Well, good. Because that-" Serena raised her own glass, clinking it against Blair's with an impudent grin, "is what tonight is for, right?"
Blair laughed.
"I'll drink to that," she agreed, as they both took long sips of their martinis.
"Oh!" Suddenly remembering the part of the conversation she'd been looking forward to most, Serena sat up straighter on her stool. "Guess what?"
Blair raised her eyebrows expectantly.
"We're going to London!" Serena announced, clasping her hands together excitedly. "Isn't that amazing?"
Blair blinked in surprise.
"Who is we?" she asked, a little furrow appearing between her brows.
"Me… and Nate…" Serena clarified, her grin broadening. "And-"
"Wait- you're going too?" Blair interrupted her. "I thought Nate was going by himself."
"Well, he was, but then- wait, how did you know about the trip?" Serena said, looking confused. "Nate wasn't supposed to say anything…"
"It's Nate." Blair lifted her shoulders in an angry shrug. Then her gaze sharpened on Serena. "So…how long have you two been planning this?" she asked accusingly.
Crap.
"Well, Nate's been planning it for… a while now…" Serena faltered, scrambling to come up with an acceptable explanation. "But, I thought it sounded like fun, so… I sort of invited myself along. It was kind of a last-minute thing."
Blair's narrowed eyes made it clear that she wasn't buying it.
"Or…" she countered, "you've been planning this for weeks, and you didn't tell me because you didn't want to invite me along, too."
"No, Blair, it wasn't like that-" Serena protested.
"Don't, 'no, Blair, it wasn't like that' me," Blair said sharply, folding her arms across her chest. "I know how social shunning works. I practically wrote the book on it."
Serena sighed, rubbing one hand across her temples.
"Look, Blair, we wanted to invite you," she explained softly. "But we didn't know how Chuck would feel about it, and we didn't want to put him on the spot by asking, so we both sort of just… avoided bringing it up."
Blair's face fell just a fraction.
"Oh," she replied, her eyes shifting down towards her cocktail. Clearly she hadn't even considered the prospect that Chuck might not want to see her.
"But when I finally did ask Chuck," Serena went on, "he said he wanted you to come."
Blair's eyes flickered up to meet hers.
"He did?" she said doubtfully.
"He did," Serena confirmed with a grin. "That's the 'we.' Me, and Nate… and you. If you want to come, that is."
Blair didn't smile- not overtly. But her eyes were suddenly aglow.
"Oh… well…" She hesitated, clearing her throat. "It is awfully short notice… and I'd have to run it by Laurel first. Fortunately we don't have anything booked for Thursday or Friday, because otherwise it'd be totally out of the question…"
"Oh, please come, B!" Serena pleaded. "Chuck said it's been way too long since the four of us hung out together. He's really looking forward to it."
"Well, he's right, of course," Blair replied in a haughty tone. "It has been too long."
She was silent for a moment, seemingly in deliberation.
But the bright sheen in her eyes told Serena otherwise.
"So you'll come?" Serena nudged her with a hopeful smile.
Blair shrugged. "I guess. I mean, I suppose I don't have anything better to d—"
Before she could even finish her sentence, Serena had bounced down off of her stool and enveloped her in an eager hug.
"Oh, we're gonna have such a great time!" she said excitedly.
Blair laughed, shaking her head a little at her friend's exuberance. Serena promptly hopped back up on her stool, waved the bartender over and requested two glasses of Dom 95 to celebrate.
"Do you realize the last time we took a trip together was to Paris two years ago?" she mused.
"That can't be right," Blair replied, her brow furrowing as she tried, and failed, to generate another example.
"It was an amazing summer though…" Serena said wistfully, remembering their two carefree months of art, and fashion, and culture. Just two best friends, far away from all the drama and stress of their real lives in the Upper East Side.
Well, two best friends, plus a never-ending supply of adorable French boys, she thought with a little internal sigh.
Blair nodded, giving a small smile of agreement.
But Serena couldn't help noticing the shadow that passed over her expression.
"Oh, I'm sorry, B," she said softly. "I didn't mean to bring up…" she trailed off, making a little gesture with her hand.
"No, no," Blair dismissed her apology. "You're right. It was an amazing summer. I mean, it wasn't easy," she admitted, "but… it wouldn't have been easy anywhere."
She paused and finished the rest of her martini.
"We've just been through so much," she murmured. "We can't mess it up again, I don't think either of us could bear it."
"You won't, B," she said encouragingly. "You've both grown up so much since then."
Blair nodded, looking pensive.
"I wasn't totally on board with the whole 'being friends' thing at first," she admitted- as if this were actually news to Serena, "but I feel like it's been so good for both of us. Before, we always wanted to be together so badly, it didn't matter to us whether we were ready or not. But this time… it's different."
"You're taking the time to get it right," Serena agreed. "I think it'll all be worth it in the end, B."
She reached over and squeezed her friend's hand.
"I think so too," Blair said thoughtfully. "But with this trip, I'm a little worried that we might… well, do something to derail all the progress we've made."
"Something like…" Serena asked, confused.
Blair raised her eyebrows meaningfully.
"Ah… right," Serena murmured. "So can't you just… not do that?"
"If only it were that easy." Blair sighed dramatically. "But as you know, there exists a certain… attraction, between the two of us, which has proven… difficult to resist in the past."
Serena stared at her in amused disbelief
"Do we need to get you a chastity belt?" she asked, smiling in thanks as the bartender handed over their flutes of champagne.
"Not exactly," Blair mused, drumming her fingers along the side of her flute with a contemplative expression. "I was thinking more along the lines of a… chaperone."
Serena's laughter trailed off as she realized that Blair wasn't kidding- and, in fact, was eying her with a pointed look.
"Wait, are you serious?" she asked in disbelief. "Me? You want me to keep you and Chuck from having sex?"
Blair shrugged.
"Who better?"
"I dunno, how about… you? Or Chuck?" Serena shot back. "Or you and Chuck?"
"Well, obviously we'll both try our best," Blair said matter-of-factly. "But when you mix a long dry spell with some alcohol and that sort of… volatile sexual chemistry, well…" She shrugged again. "There's just no telling what might happen."
"Anyway, it would just be a lot easier if we didn't end up alone in a room together," Blair went on calmly, as if this were a totally reasonable plan. "And I mean, any room. I'm talking bathroom, broom closet, phone booth. Even a deserted foyer's fair game."
Serena groaned aloud.
"So all you need to do is… prevent that from happening," Blair finished. "Simple, right?"
She lifted her champagne flute and raised her eyebrows inquiringly.
Serena sighed and gave a wry shake of her head.
"You're ridiculous, you know that?" she said fondly.
"It's part of my charm," Blair replied, unperturbed. "So… to a great trip?" She waggled her glass at Serena.
"To a great trip," Serena echoed, clinking her glass against Blair's with a little laugh.
.
.
Chuck returned to his group of friends, who were still clustered around the same section of the bar where they'd settled over an hour ago. He eyed them with some amusement, wondering why they'd even bothered to go somewhere new if all they wanted to do was talk to each other all night.
He'd spent the past hour flirting with woman, after woman, after woman.
In spite of the fact that he was still flying solo, he considered his tour of the club a success. He'd certainly accumulated enough phone numbers to cover Friday and Saturday nights well into the next year… to say nothing of clandestine afternoon rendezvous in hotel rooms and second apartments.
Not that he was actually planning on calling any of them, though. After the initial thrill of seduction had passed, he hadn't been able to muster up much… enthusiasm at the prospect of seeing them again. He'd only accepted their numbers to be polite.
All of their giggling and pouting and eyelash-batting had just left him feeling… bored, and kind of annoyed.
But at least he felt reassured that he hadn't lost his touch.
"Chuck!" Devin greeted him boisterously, his pale cheeks ruddy from several hours of drinking. "Where'd you get off to, you wanker?"
With that, he smacked Chuck soundly across the back, almost causing him to lose balance.
"Too busy chatting up the entire female population of London to spend time with his mates," George added in a mock-sorrowful voice.
"Our Chuck is quite the ladies' man," Devin agreed cheerfully. "What's your secret? Those girls over there wouldn't talk to me unless they were falling-down pissed."
Chuck had figured out long ago that self-confidence got you everywhere with women. All he had to do was stand around looking like a rich, jaded asshole, and they just came to him.
That wasn't the sort of "secret" most other men appreciated though.
"Must be the accent," he said instead.
The guys groaned good-naturedly, but Chloe was already nodding in confirmation.
"Also, the clothes," she piped up, looking him up and down.
He shot her a smile over the top of his half-empty glass.
He'd dressed down a little, so that he wouldn't look too conspicuous. But the Chuck Bass version of "dressing down" still involved a charcoal suit, Italian leather loafers, and a slim-cut Armani shirt in pale lavender silk. He'd accented the look with a paisley-patterned ascot in a coordinating shade of eggplant, tied slightly off-center with the ends tucked neatly beneath his collar.
"That shirt's actually my favorite color," she added admiringly.
"And you hardly ever see it on… blokes, either," George commented with a raised eyebrow, as he took another sip of his beer.
Chuck smirked at the good-natured jibe.
"Most men can't pull it off," he returned, and George chuckled in response. "Which is a shame. Women love it."
"If that's the case, why aren't you pulling a bird right now?" Devin asked, giving Chuck a playful little shove. "Unless you're waiting to take a shot at the blonde over there?"
He nodded towards a woman chatting with the club's bouncer, a curvaceous blonde with long legs and bright blue eyes.
"Not really my type," Chuck said indifferently.
The men in the group regarded Chuck with confused blinks and furrowed brows. Because that blonde was everyone's type.
"What about her?" George offered, pointing out a slender brunette in a form-fitting dress.
Chuck shrugged.
"Too tan," he said in a dismissive tone.
"Oh, I know," Chloe jumped in, as if this were a fun new game. "The girl by the DJ booth, in the pink dress."
The female in question had honey-colored ringlets cascading down her back, dark eyes fringed with long lashes, and a bright, friendly smile- which she directed towards Chuck as soon as he made eye contact with her.
She was certainly pretty, but…
"Too nice," he concluded.
What the hell was he supposed to do with a nice girl? Be nice back?
Shuddering at the thought, he returned his attention to the only thing in the club he found truly enticing- his tumbler of Scotch.
But when he set down his emptied glass, he noticed that his friends were smiling at each other. Exchanging knowing glances.
"What?" Chuck asked, his eyes shifting back and forth between them.
"You've got it bad, mate," George said with a shake of his head.
"So, Chuck," Devon began, his eyes twinkling. "What's her name?"
.
.
Ring
Chuck groggily opened his eyes to the sound of his cell phone ringing in the middle of the night.
He made a disgruntled noise, annoyed at having been awakened from a very pleasant dream.
He'd been surrounded by a set of triplet Blairs, all dressed in slinky lingerie and ready to satisfy his every naughty fantasy. And things had just been starting to get interesting…
Ring
"Fuck," he grumbled, and reached out to grope around his nightstand for his phone.
He picked it up and peered at it through the darkness.
His aggravation dissipated as soon as he saw Blair's name on the screen.
With an apprehensive clearing of his throat, he pressed answer and lifted the phone to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Chuck?"
At first, the slight slur in her voice seemed to confirm his worst fears. He immediately sat up in bed and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.
But then he heard a breathy giggle float across the line.
"Chuuuck," she repeated, in a sing-song voice. "Are you there?"
He blinked in surprise and relief, and relaxed against the pillows.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm here," he murmured.
"Hi!" she chirped.
"… Hi," he replied, a note of dry amusement in his voice. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Oh, it's..." She paused, and he heard rustling in the background. "Almost midnight," she reported back.
"Yeah…" He glanced towards the window, where faint rays of light were just beginning to peek through the curtains.
"Anyway," she went on, "I just wanted to call about the trip next week."
The breath caught in his throat.
In his sleep-addled state, he'd actually managed to forget about that whole situation.
"So are you… going to come?" he asked cautiously, not really sure which answer he wanted to hear.
"I think so!" she said in a cheerful tone. "As long as I can get the time off."
"That's great." His heart tripped over itself in his chest, belying his attempt at nonchalance.
"I can't wait to see you," she murmured happily.
And despite all of his misgivings, he couldn't help smiling in response.
"Me too."
He cleared his throat, deciding that this conversation was heading into dangerous territory, and attempted to change the subject.
"So did you guys have a good time tonight?"
"We went out dancing," she said brightly. "And it was so much fun! We had dinner at Butter, and then cocktails at Apoca… Apocath…"
"Apothéke," Chuck supplied wryly.
"Right, there. And I got a gimlet, which was really good- but not as good as the ones Horace makes- and then this drink with cucumber and mint and lime in it, and the bartender said it had some special Chinese aphrodisiacs, but I think that was just, you know, marketing-" (she barely paused to take a breath) "-but they were really good, so I had like three of them, and then we went to Avenue to go dancing, and we saw Tyson Beckford- he was wearing this fabulous jacket from the Ralph Lauren fall line, which would look amazing with your blue and green-striped bowtie, by the way- and then Serena and I went out on the dance floor, and there was this photographer who kept taking pictures of us, so we gave him, you know some of our best poses, and it was just… it was so much fun," she concluded happily, sounding almost winded from her monologue.
"That does sound like fun," Chuck agreed.
Even after being reluctantly roused from a deep sleep, he couldn't help but smile a little at the exuberance in her voice. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard her sound so happy.
Sure, the alcohol probably had something to do with it. But he guessed that the most likely reason was that she and Serena were back to their BFF selves.
"Remember the time we went to Avenue together?" Blair said wistfully. "Summer after senior year?"
Summer after- oh.
"Yeah…" he murmured, then cleared his throat. "Yeah, I remember that."
"I couldn't stop thinking about it," she said in a confidential tone. "Every time I walked past the coat check room…"
Chuck didn't know if it was because of the suggestive note in her voice, or the fact that he was already at half-mast after his interrupted dream- but there was a sudden rush of blood to his groin.
He shifted uncomfortably against the mattress, trying to regain control of himself.
"Do you remember how we ended up in there?" Blair asked in a breathy little voice, which was not helping.
Not helping at all.
Because he remembered exactly how they'd ended up in there.
He'd been fending off the advances of a very forward, very well-endowed blonde when Blair had returned from the ladies' room.
And she had not… taken it well.
With fury flashing in her deep brown eyes, Blair marched right up to them, plucked the martini from his admirer's hand, and upended it down the front of her dress- then, ignoring the woman's shriek of indignation, proceeded to verbally tear her to shreds.
Chuck just leaned back against the bar, watching in amusement and admiration as his girlfriend ordered the hapless blonde to take her knock-off Gucci bag and her "lopsided boob job" and get out- which she promptly did, fleeing the scene with an outraged huff.
He half-expected her to lay into him next- not because he'd done anything to encourage the blonde, but because Blair wasn't exactly rational and calm when she was in the midst of a jealous rage.
Instead, she just stared at him for a moment, her gaze still heated with ire, before grabbing him by the hand and dragging him onto the dance floor.
Where she proceeded to demonstrate, in no uncertain terms, that Chuck Bass was taken. He barely even had a chance to catch his breath before her arms were around his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair, and her mouth was pressed, hot and demanding, against his own.
Well, if this was how she wanted to mark her territory, it was all right by him.
The crowd of people around them gradually faded away as they moved to the beat of the music, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Her hips swayed enticingly, her tongue danced against his, her teeth tugged on his lower lip- all with the definite goal of turning him on.
And it was definitely working.
He spun her around in his arms, so that her back was pressed against his front- leaving his hands free to roam around her waist, her hips, the front of her thighs, and his mouth slowly, languorously, making its way up the smooth curve of her neck.
He captured her earlobe in his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make her head arch back onto his shoulder.
"Fuck, you look so hot tonight," he murmured into her ear.
His fingers stroked across the plum-colored fabric of the Herve Leger dress she was wearing; it outlined her figure in almost sinful detail, clinging to every curve and valley of her luscious body.
And when he felt the rounded curve of her ass press back into him, rubbing up against his now-rigid cock, tempting him with thoughts of pulling that dress up to her waist and-
"Chuck? Are you still there?"
He returned to the present moment to find his erection straining against the fabric of his pajama pants.
Jesus, get control of yourself, he thought, trying to clear his head with a sharp shake.
Fantasizing about Blair- especially with a drunk Blair on the other end of the line- was just asking for trouble. The smartest thing to do would be to get off the phone, so he could… deal with this situation on his own.
"Well, it's, uh… pretty late, and I have an early meeting tomorrow," he improvised, with an awkward clearing of his throat. "So I'd better let you go…"
"Tomorrow's Sunday, silly," Blair said with a little laugh.
That, she remembered, he thought grumpily, but somehow the five hour time difference kept slipping her mind.
"Right, well…" He wracked his foggy brain to come up with a better reason. "It's sort of a brunch… type of… networking event…"
"Remember what I said to you?" she went on, blithely ignoring his attempts to end the conversation. "While we were dancing?"
At that, his breathing stuttered to a halt.
"Yeah," he replied, the words coming out in a low croak. "Yeah, I remember."
Blair raised one arm and slid it around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he continued to press kisses against her neck.
Turning her head to the side, she nuzzled her mouth against his ear.
"You know what I really want to do?" she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear over the thumping beat of the music.
"What?"
He dipped his head down to place an open-mouthed kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
"I want to suck you off," she purred against his ear. "Right… now."
Blair drew her lips back from his ear, gazing at him over her shoulder with lust-hooded eyes.
Once his brain fully absorbed what she'd said, it took Chuck all of ten seconds to maneuver her through the crowd and off of the dance floor, both hands still wrapped tightly around her waist.
But she twisted out of his grasp and, taking his hand in hers, led him up the stairs, down a short hallway, and straight through a curtained door next to the coat-check room, completely ignoring the sign overhead marked "private."
"Hey, you're not supposed to… be back here-" the surprised employee behind the counter stammered.
"You look like you could use a cigarette break," Blair commented, ignoring his objections.
She reached into the pocket of Chuck's trousers and retrieved his wallet, then flipped it open and plucked a hundred-dollar-bill from his billfold.
"Consider it a bonus," she said, holding it out towards the young man with an expectant smile.
He simply stared at the money in confusion.
With a sigh, Blair removed another hundred and added it to the first, shoving them both unceremoniously into his palm.
"All we need is fifteen minutes," she said cheerily.
"Twenty," Chuck corrected her.
"Twenty," she agreed with a little nod.
The coat check boy stared at them for a moment, lips parted dumbly- then his fingers closed around the money, and he turned and exited the small room without a backwards glance.
Blair watched him leave, and then turned back to Chuck, eying him with an expression that was equal parts mischief and desire.
Pressing her palms flat against his chest, she walked him backwards between the racks of coats until he bumped up against the back wall, just out of view of the open counter window.
Then, without further ado, she unzipped his pants, sank to her knees, and had her hand wrapped around his cock before he could even comprehend what was happening.
He groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall.
"Shh," she whispered teasingly. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"
He released a long, uneven breath as she caressed him, his hips automatically moving in unison with the movement of her hand up and down his length. Glancing down, he found her looking back up at him through her lashes, her lower lip captured teasingly between her teeth.
Then she parted her lips, her eyes never leaving his, and took him into her mouth.
And every remaining ounce of blood in his brain rushed southward.
He could feel his cock swell further inside her hot, wet mouth, hear the unsteady sound of his own breathing as he struggled to remain quiet.
He watched through half-lidded eyes as she took him deeper and deeper into her mouth. Every stroke of her lips, and tongue, and hand sent a wave of pleasure coursing through his body.
"Fuck, that feels so good…" he whispered hoarsely.
He'd already decided that he could die right now a happy man- since there was no way his life could possibly get any better than this- when his gaze caught on her other arm.
And followed it down, along her thigh, to where her hand was positioned between her legs.
Stroking herself in the same rhythm she was stroking him.
The sound of a soft moan jolted him back to reality.
"Blair…" he said, swallowing over the sudden constriction in his throat.
His hand drifted downward, over his own erection through the silk of his pajamas. It twitched demandingly beneath his palm.
Don't ask, he told himself. Just, don't… ask.
"Are you touching yourself?" He heard the words leave his lips anyway.
There was a beat of silence, and for a moment all he heard was the uneven sound of her breathing.
"Yes," she answered in a husky whisper that sent his cock throbbing.
Well, he'd put up a good fight, he supposed, as he yanked apart the tie of his pajama pants and freed his aching erection. He sighed with relief as he gave it several long strokes.
"Chuck?"
"Yeah?" His voice was ragged.
"Are you?" she asked softly.
"…Yeah," he admitted, letting his head fall back against the pillow as he began pumping himself with his hand.
Imagining it was her hand instead. Her mouth. Her ruby-red lips.
"What are you thinking about?" she murmured.
"You," he said, without even pausing to think. "On your knees in the coatroom. Sucking me off."
He could hear the slight hitch in her breath that betrayed her arousal at his words.
"You are so… fucking good at that." He gripped himself a little tighter, remembering how her mouth felt wrapped around him. "And you love doing it, don't you? You love sucking my cock."
"Yes…" she sighed.
"I can tell, it always gets you… so wet…" He swallowed. "Are you wet, Blair?"
There was a slight pause before he heard her answer.
"Yes."
Then she let out a little whimper of pleasure that almost sent him over the edge.
He bit down on his lower lip and slowed the motion of his hand slightly.
"I want to feel it," he whispered. "I want to feel your tight…wet… little… pussy," He punctuated each word with a forceful stroke of his hand, "wrapped around my cock. Taking… all of it."
"God yes…" she said unevenly.
He could feel her slick walls clasping around him, pulling him deeper and deeper into her.
"Talk to me, Blair," he coaxed her. "Tell me what you want me to do."
This was a game they used to play. Chuck would start making suggestive comments, Blair would try to keep up her good girl façade, and then he would provoke her with increasingly dirty enticements until she was so turned on she finally gave in.
She usually required a solid fifteen minutes of persuasion. But tonight, he had alcohol and several months of abstinence on his side.
"I want you," she whispered, "to push me up against a wall. And fuck me. Like only you can."
Chuck released a ragged breath, feeling his cock go rock-hard in his hand.
"I am, baby," he said roughly. "Nice and deep… just the way you like."
"Yes… God that feels… so good…" she panted.
"You like that?" he breathed. "You like it when I fuck you good and hard?"
He imagined whispering the words against her ear. Kissing his way down her neck. Sinking his teeth into her shoulder as he plunged into her with increasing abandon.
"Mmm, yes," she whimpered. "Harder… please, Chuck …"
He complied, his hips thrusting up off the mattress with every stroke. He could feel her tightening around him, her hips eagerly thrusting back against his.
"Oh God, Chuck, you feel so fucking good…" she gasped. "I'm so close…"
Suddenly he felt that familiar tightening sensation in his groin.
"I'm gonna come," he whispered hoarsely. "You want me to come inside you?"
"Yes," Blair cried out. "Yes."
Then she made an indescribable noise that told him she wasn't just "close" any longer- she was there.
And a second later he was there too.
He heard himself groan out a string of expletives as ecstasy overcame him; his eyes clenched shut, his hips arched off the bed, and his entire body went taut with the force of his orgasm. The surge of pleasure was so intense, he felt like a supernova had engulfed his brain.
For several long moments afterwards, he remained slumped back against the pillows, completely spent. His limbs felt heavy and boneless, and his cell phone was on the verge of falling from his loosened grasp.
When he finally lifted it back to his ear, he could hear Blair still panting softly on the other end of the line.
"You know," he said in a wry tone. "We are… really bad at being friends."
"Really bad," Blair replied, still sounding slightly out of breath, "…or really good?"
He chuckled, unable to even think of a response when his brain had endorphined itself into a pile of mush.
Long after they'd said their goodbyes- and he'd cleaned himself up and changed his pajamas- he continued to lie in bed awake, watching the sunlight slowly peek its way through his bedroom window.
He knew that they'd just complicated their situation ten-fold. And he now had concrete proof that his self-control was completely useless.
But even so, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.
Because he hadn't felt this good in a long, long time.
He extended his limbs in a full-body stretch, exhaled a contented little sigh, and then finally let his eyes drift shut.
.
.
"Morning!" Blair cheerily greeted Serena as she slid into her usual seat across the table. "Oh, good- you already ordered the mimosas!"
"Well, you get kind of grumpy when you have to wait for them," Serena responded with an affectionate smile.
"And you brought… reading material," Blair noted, eying the stack of books in the middle of the table with a dubious expression.
"Oh, I thought we could start planning our trip!" Serena handed Blair the book of the top of the pile. "I already dog-eared some of the stuff that sounded fun."
"The Rough Guide to London?" Blair read off the title, a skeptical note in her voice. "Why do we even need these? We're not broke teenagers backpacking around Europe. And we'll just be hanging out with Chuck and Nate the whole time anyway."
"Actually, they've got stuff to do during the day Thursday and Friday, so we're on our own," Serena replied. "But don't worry, I have lots of ideas to keep us entertained."
Blair flipped open the book to the first folded-over page.
"A double-decker bus tour?" she said in disbelief. "Seriously? There are people wearing fanny packs in this picture, Serena." She stabbed the page with a punctuating finger.
"I thought it'd be fun to do some of the cheesy stuff," Serena went on, unruffled. "Like make faces at the guards at Buckingham Palace. Get some fish and chips. You know, just be tacky tourists for the day."
Based on Blair's expression, she might as well have suggested going to a cult sacrifice, or a midget rodeo, or… Walmart.
"Or…" Blair countered, "we could just be the classy and civilized people that we are, and go shopping. Maybe visit a museum or two. Like the National Gallery, or the Tate Modern."
"Those are the exact same things we do in New York all the time," Serena protested with a roll of her eyes.
"We don't have a Harrod's in New York," Blair said defensively.
"How about we compromise instead," Serena suggested. "I plan one afternoon, you plan the other?"
Blair gnawed on the inside of her cheeks, her gaze still fixed on the picture in the guidebook.
Rubbing elbows with the hoi polloi was not her idea of a fun vacation. And she'd never been particularly fond of the word "compromise."
But it did seem to mean a lot to Serena.
"Fine." Blair sighed. "But if I get decapitated when the bus goes through an underpass, you're going to feel really, really guilty."
"Deal," Serena agreed cheerfully. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"
Her exuberance brought an answering smile to Blair's face.
"It's been so long since we've all hung out together," Serena added, taking a long swallow of her mimosa. "Just the four of us, you know? I really miss that."
"Yeah… me too," Blair murmured.
"I have to admit, I was kind of skeptical about you and Chuck being friends at first," Serena admitted. "You two have never been very good at… well, keeping things platonic."
Blair almost choked on her mouthful of orange juice.
"Mmm," she said evasively.
"But you both seem committed to making it work, and it seems like you're in a really good place right now, which is… awesome."
"We are," Blair agreed, nodding her head vigorously. "A very good place. A very platonic place," she added.
She dabbed at her mouth in an attempt to hide her expression behind her napkin.
Serena paused, holding a cream-cheese danish suspended in the air halfway to her mouth.
"B, what aren't you telling me?" she asked suspiciously.
"What? Nothing." Blair made an elaborate show of opening her menu and perusing the selections, lips pursed in feigned contemplation.
Serena's eyes narrowed, taking in her friend's averted eyes and flushed cheeks.
"B…" she began warily.
"Okay, fine, I may have called him last night," Blair interrupted, nonchalantly tossing her curls back over one shoulder. "And we may have… accidentally had phone sex. It's not a big deal."
Serena's eyes widened.
"How do you accidentally have phone sex?" she asked incredulously.
"I don't know!" Blair said defensively. "We were just… reminiscing, and one thing led to another, and then I may have… mentioned something I wanted to do to him…"
Serena cringed, looking down at her cream-filled pastry with evident distaste.
"Hey, you asked," Blair pointed out, rolling her eyes at her friend's prudishness.
"I know, I know." Serena sighed. "Eventually I'll learn to… stop doing that."
She shook her head, as if to clear some of the more traumatizing memories from her brain.
"Like that time I asked why you needed a waterproof camcorder," she recalled.
Blair shrugged.
"Surveillance," she replied innocently.
"Or why there was a chocolate handprint on the wall of Chuck's suite."
"Dessert." Blair took a sip of her orange juice, unable to keep an impish little grin off her face.
"Right." Serena rolled her eyes. "So… I assume I'll be bunking with Nate while we're in London then?"
"What? Of course not." Blair dismissed this suggestion with a little wave of her hand. "Like you said, Chuck and I are both committed to keeping things platonic. Sleeping together before we're ready to actually be together would just complicate the situation. What happened last night was just… a little slip."
"A little slip," Serena echoed doubtfully.
"Right. You know. A one time thing."
Serena just shook her head and tilted her flute of mimosa up to her lips.
"I'm definitely going to need your assistance with that though," Blair added seriously, tearing off a piece of her croissant and popping it into her mouth.
Serena just stared at her for a moment, her brow furrowed in disbelief.
"And how exactly do you expect me to keep you two apart," she asked, exasperated. "When you can't even keep your hands off each other over the phone?"
Blair shrugged.
"I'm sure you'll figure something out," she replied airily. "Another mimosa?"
.
.
A/N: So, off to London we go! Thoughts on this chapter? Hopes/predictions for the next?
Many apologies to any Brits reading this, for how I've probably butchered your accent/slang/various stereotypes about your country/etc. I blame Wikipedia.
Thanks, as always, to my beta, friend, and trusted phone sex connoisseur, Terrabeth. You should all be excited to hear that she's working on an update to Criminal :)
And thanks to all of my twitter and tumblr peeps for the constant encouragement/pestering :) And thanks to my favorite people of all, my reviewers. You guys rock the body that rocks the party: CBfanhere, eckomoon, occassionaltvfan, Grish, twofortheroad, Tigger23, xochuckandmonkey, Dr. Holland, merriment, maryl, Natalie2010, alissa-jackie, Hyde's Bride, pty, , RauhlPrincess, Kaya, chairilove, annablake, MelanieChambers, yahira, EmiEllie, Temp02, Questacious, dreamgurl, Elle, Chairaddict68, Trosev, coleyoo, Elise, MademoiselleBass, JessiGabrielax, madetobemrsbass, xoxo S, kosoul7, avid reader, Love Still Stands, lae, leightedandnian, louboutinlove, 24hrscout, Curious Blonde, tweedledim, jsta, flipped, Gabby, and aliciasays.
A/N 2: Also, big thanks to everyone who voted for my stories in the CB fic awards! I really appreciate the support. Check out all the nominees and winners at the chuckandblairaward tumblr page!