Epilogue

Three months later...

"I could do this all day."

Blair let out a sigh, as she felt his teeth gently scrape the curve of her neck.

"But we can't..." She chided lightly.

"Yes, we can."

"Chuck, I have to go to work."

But that only served to make him groan even more. In an almost possessive fashion, he tightened his grip on her thighs and held her in place. "Stay. I'll buy the damn magazine. I'll buy them all."

He shifted his body on top of hers and dove towards her neck, the spot in particular that made her toes curl.

"Stop! I'll seriously be late!" She protested even though her legs were involuntarily spreading apart.

"We still have an hour," He replied huskily.

"But I promised Dan I'd meet up with him."

She felt his body instantly stiffen and his hands come to a halt just mid-way up her skirt.

"Please don't mention his name during foreplay," Chuck exhorted in an irked fashion.

Blair rolled her eyes, as she weaseled away from his grasp. "Be nice. The New Yorker is a big deal. And he needs a decent outfit for his interview."

"You really should get more recognition for your charity work," Chuck drawled, visibly miffed, but still intent on slipping his hand back under her skirt.

"Dan is my friend, Chuck," Blair scolded, extracting both his hand from under her skirt and herself from his king-sized bed.

"And you're my girlfriend. Surely, I get more visitation rights than that nonentity."

Smirking, she padded across his bedroom to examine her appearance in the mirror. She knew for a fact that arguing with him about Humphrey was a lost cause. No matter how hard she tried or how many "surprise" get-togethers she planned (many of which ended horribly), Dan and Chuck were just never going to click.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Chuck huffed out his sudden irritation. He was trying really hard to be the patient boyfriend; he even went out of his way to make small talk with Dan last Sunday brunch! But to be denied a few more minutes with his girlfriend all because that insipid outsider needed to play dress-up? Now, this was just getting ridiculous!

Aware that he was glaring at her from behind, Blair simply feigned nonchalance and began pinning her hair up. She knew that her silence would only further piss him off.

When he finally let out a loud groan and sunk back on his bed, Blair had to stop herself from laughing.

"How about we make a deal?" She began, her tone tinged with amusement.

His head immediately rose in interest.

"I'm listening," he murmured suggestively.

With an inviting smile, she sauntered towards him and wedged her body just between his knees.

Chuck's mouth creased into a smirk, when he felt her slim legs press against his inner thighs. Excited, he pulled himself up so his face was just a few inches from her chest.

"I'll get off work early tonight and drop by your office…in that secretary outfit you like…" She cajoled suggestively, as she traced a manicured finger along his jaw.

Judging by the way his eyes glazed over, she could already tell that his perverted mind was reeling with the mental image of her parading half-nakedly in his testosterone-filled office, her pencil skirt hanging on his lamp, and her sky-high Louboutins strewn haphazardly on his desk.

Biting her lip, she bent over just a little so their faces were just a few millimeters apart, and as he gazed intently into her eyes, she decided now was the right time to finish her thought, "If you take Humphrey shopping this afternoon, that is."

Chuck's hands immediately fell from her waist. His dark hazel eyes flickered in annoyance as he pushed her off of him and growled, "Absolutely not."

Realizing she didn't play her cards right, she searched desperately for middle ground. "I'll wear my new Agent Provocateur!" She coaxed with her best smile.

But her hopeful expression was only met with an icy glare from across the room.

"As lovely as your offer is, I'm afraid I'll have to pass. Spending any length of time with Humphrey is the absolute equivalent to pulling my teeth out."

"Come on!" Blair whined. "You know you have a better hold on menswear than I do!"

"Uh-uh. No way. I'm grateful that he helped us in Paris and all, and don't say that I haven't tried to be more civil with him these past few months—"

"You've barely even acknowledged the guy!"

Chuck shot her a blank look. "That's me. Being civil."

"Oh my God!" Blair cried out exasperatingly.

"Isn't Serena an adequate best friend anyway?" He whined back, his face contorting in disgust as the mere thought of having to spend time with the Brooklynite entered his mind.

Blair let out a frustrated sigh. "All I ask is that you do this one thing for me."

A tense silence hung in the air as they glared at each other like two powerhouses in a Cold War.

"Fine," Chuck finally conceded. His shoulders hunched over in defeat and a brief string of curses fell from his mouth. "But you're mine for the whole week."

Blair's triumphant glow was now replaced with disbelief. "Chuck, I can't! Fashion Week's approaching—"

But before she could finish her sentence, his mouth was suddenly on hers, his fingers tunneling in her hair.

She was so startled that all her body could do was react just as fervently to his touch. And just when she was on the brink of losing it, of losing all reserve and restraint, he pulled away with a notably fresh smirk on his face.

"A deal's a deal," the smug bastard said.

Her cheeks flushed almost instantly. Angrily, she pursed her newly swollen lips and pushed him off of her. He smirked as he watched his girlfriend pick up her things and stride towards the door in a palpable huff.

"He'll be in Paul Smith on 5th. Don't be late!" She yelled crossly, before slamming the door as loud as she could.

Shaking his head knowingly, all Chuck could do was let out a laugh.

Recognizing the limo pulled up at the curb, Dan jogged over, ready to hand Blair her coffee with two creams and one sugar, just the way she liked it. When the car door opened, however, his jaw nearly hit the ground.

"Er…hi, Chuck."

The dark-haired figure nodded in Dan's direction, before curtly turning away to give Arthur, his chauffeur, instructions to circle the block a few times.

"Is Blair OK?" Dan asked slowly, because he knew, for a fact, that physical illness would be the only plausible reason for her not to take the opportunity to help him with his wardrobe.

"Of course she is. Why wouldn't she be?" Chuck asked grumpily, staring pointedly at the cup of coffee in his hand.

Dan awkwardly handed it to him as a small attempt at courtesy, but the only response he got from Chuck was a sharp intake of breath and a full set of gritted teeth. Stonily, Chuck turned the other way and began heading inside Paul Smith.

"Well, she was supposed to help me pick an outfit today," Dan explained, trailing behind him in perplexity.

"Slight change of plans," Chuck mumbled. He cut Dan off mid-way through another tedious question to gesture at the nearest saleswoman, "Hi, I have an appointment with André."

The saleswoman immediately recognized his face. "Of course, Mr. Bass, he'll be out with you in a moment."

Staring bewilderedly at the scurrying woman, Dan finally let his curiosity get the best of him. "OK, I think I'm missing something here. Why are you here exactly?"

Chuck tried not to roll his eyes, as he casually withdrew what he presumed to be Blair's coffee from the gaping man's hand and took a sip.

"Blair's somehow got the impression that we don't spend enough time together."

"And that's an issue, why?"

"My point exactly. But if you just keep your mouth shut all the way through, we'll be out of here in no time."

Chuck walked over to where André, his shopping assistant, obediently stood and cordially shook his hand.

"André, we want something tweed or herringbone for a suit, preferably a fabric that doesn't wrinkle too much, especially since we're dealing with a person who's never heard of either tweed or herringbone before."

"Yes, yes, of course," the overzealous man replied, as he industriously scribbled notes on his pad, turning a deaf ear to the chain of expletives Dan muttered under his breath.

"Also, for ties, I'm thinking poplin, wool, or silk even. And stick to neutrals…I don't think the public should suffer that much of an eyesore," Chuck continued to drawl.

"Wow, we should do this more often," Dan quipped sardonically from the side.

Chuck sent him another withering glare—which Dan couldn't help but notice was on a par with Blair's. "What did I just say earlier?"

Dan rolled his eyes, as he let André drag him into the nearest dressing room. "I heard you. No talking. No talking."

After being tailored, coiffed and mildly assaulted by the staff at Paul Smith for the last hour, Dan plopped down on the same chaise lounge Chuck was leisurely sitting on and let out a sigh of exhaustion. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes—Chuck smirking, and he recuperating.

"She hates that you're leaving, you know," Chuck spoke suddenly.

Dan opened his eyes and turned to face him. "Blair?"

Though Chuck's eyes were trained on the floor, the warmth in them was visible. "She says she'll be forced to socialize with the other interns now."

Dan let out a chuckle, as his mind briefly replayed memories of her first day. He remembered Chanel No. 5-stained carpets, impromptu stapler wars in the copy room, and scathing assessments of the "competition." By the end of the day, it seemed that the pool of ten interns had quickly been reduced to six.

"Fashion is her thing, not mine," Dan said fondly. "Plus, I'm sure a part of her is glad to know that she won't have to constantly save my ass from Epperley from now on."

Chuck let out a throaty laugh, which Dan shortly joined in on, despite the buzzing in his ears reminding him that this—this moment of remote friendliness between them was beyond abnormal. He still laughed though, unable to help himself.

"How about a drink?" Chuck asked.

"What?"

"The Palace isn't too far from here. What do you say?" He peered at Dan affably, before rising from the lounge and gesturing for the bill.

Dan's mouth fell slightly in disbelief. Was this really happening? He attempted to appear composed as he stood from his seat and shrugged indifferently. "As long as I don't have to drink from a flask, I'm game."

Chuck smirked, before extracting his black Amex and entrusting it with his shopping assistant.

"Hey, whoa. I can pay for the suit," Dan insisted, but his protests were only met with the slight wave of Chuck's hand.

"We both know I'll be in the receiving end of one Blair's tirades if I don't at least pay for the suit. In fact, consider this my one good deed of the year: helping the needy."

With that, Chuck stalked off towards the cashier, leaving behind a smirking Dan.

He placed a small, black box on the middle of the counter, and almost immediately did Dan choke on his beer. He was shocked into silence, staring at the box that sat innocently on the bar just a few inches away from its owner.

"I'm thinking of proposing to Blair."

"No!"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean…now? So soon?" Dan croaked, as he nervously tugged at his collar.

Chuck narrowed his eyes at him in almost virulent scrutiny. "Well, not right now, no, but…I figure in a couple of months." Then, he looked away just in time for his lips to involuntarily twitch into a smile. "On the night before her birthday."

"Why before her—" But Dan stopped himself. He was already waist-deep in Chuck and Blair's affairs for his own good. So instead, he shook his head and opted for another route. "Mind if I see the ring?"

Chuck simply shrugged as he languidly sipped his scotch.

"Harry Winston," Dan said with a laugh, as he peered at the gleaming rock. "Good choice."

Chuck nodded, though he couldn't help but arch his eyebrow at the grinning figure beside him.

"Piece of advice?" Dan asked easily, as he shut the box and put it on its rightful place between the two.

"If this is about another art exhibit—"

"Don't hurt her again, OK?"

A serious expression overtook Chuck's features, as he drank in the gravity of his words. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Smirking slightly, Dan rose from his seat and threw what he hoped was the right amount of money on the bar. "I should go. But if it counts for anything…you have my blessing, Chuck."

Dan left the Palace in a peaceful though entirely foreign state of happiness. He would never know when exactly he crossed that line from hating Chuck to seeing something good in him for once, but he was glad he did. It's funny, Dan thought with a smirk. Friendship.

It's as if it brews from the unlikeliest of places. He spent a good portion of his life despising everything about Blair and Chuck, and yet here he was, voluntarily going shopping with her, gladly having a drink with him, figuratively raising his glass in a toast to their future happiness.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He didn't even have to look at the Caller ID to know it was Blair. Somehow, he just knew.

"So how much do you hate me right now?" She asked chirpily, though the faint edge in her voice betrayed her nervousness.

Dan's mouth curved into a smile. "Just the right amount. But seriously, at this rate, you can conduct your own military campaign."

He heard her giggle on the other side of the phone. "Hate me or love me, at least you have nicer clothes now!"

"Yes, at the expense of my dignity and ego," Dan retorted.

"Just admit it. You like Chuck!"

And that's when Dan laughed out loud, in the middle of 50th and Madison Avenue. Even though women with strollers were giving him odd looks and construction workers, scowls for foolishly stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, Dan didn't care.

"Hello? What's so funny?" She demanded.

Everything, he wanted to say. Because, as ridiculous as it was, she was right. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, a part of him did like Chuck. Granted, that part probably stemmed from the dark and twisted realms of his psyche, but it was still a partiality for the man.

When Blair's voice began to tread on indignation, Dan shook his head, smiling. "Look, I have to go. But Russian Tea Room tomorrow? I'll even give you first dibs on the first VP or exec we see."

Rolling her eyes, Blair knew better than to prod the man for answers. He and Chuck were just two ends on a spectrum, destined to always clash. Sighing, she decided to let him change the subject.

"Bring your girlfriend too! With Chuck practically chaining me to his bed, I've barely seen S all week."

"Wow. That's an image I didn't need," Dan deadpanned. "But sure, I'll tell her tonight. Talk to you after my interview?"

"Of course! I'll need all the details!"

He let out a laugh as he pressed his ear closer to the phone, savoring her utter cluelessness to the great things that were about to happen to her.

"Good-bye, Blair."

"Byeee!"

And that's it! I hope you enjoyed it! I wasn't originally going to add an epilogue but, I don't know, I always thought Dan and Chuck were hilarious together. Anyway, mad thanks again to all the readers and commenters! I'm going to miss writing this fic, but I can't wait to come up with new ones as well (I already have a few ideas up my sleeve tee hee)!

So with that, I bid you all a cheerful adieu! :)