A/N: I'm going to try to finish the second chapter of "Solace" by this weekend, I promise!
Restaurant.
Blair Waldorf had a deep, dark secret.
It was juicy, sweet, chewy, and slightly crunchy.
It was a secret called the chicken enchilada with extra cheese from Rudy's 24 Hour Mexican restaurant… we deliver.
Everything on the small menu was smothered in a nondescript brown sauce that the cook, when pressed for information, called "Salsa Mexicana" and swore that only on his deathbed would he pass down the secret to the miraculous brown liquid. Habitués of the place swore it had some sort of mood-enhancing drug in it, because the effect was almost instantaneous. After a sweet, satisfying bite of a tostada or a fish taco, covered in guacamole and sauce, all one's preoccupations and frenzied thoughts simply melted away into a warm contented glow that emanated from the stomach.
"I am the only one who knows the recipe. The only person in the world," the cook had once told Blair, tapping his greasy temple knowingly with his strong round finger.
"That must be lonely," Blair mumbled, halfway through her second taco. The cook chuckled and ruffled her hair, making her long dark curls shake.
"Ay niña. So young and yet so troubled, eh? What's on your mind? You can tell old Alejandro."
Blair looked up at him with mournful eyes. Normally, the fact that nacho grease had come within an inch of her perfectly coiffed hair would bother her, but not tonight. Not only was she half drunk on the peppermint schnopps that she had absentmindedly grabbed as she ran out the door; she was also heartbroken.
"Chuck mother-effing Bass," muttered drunkBlair, loudly sucking up horchata through the plastic straw.
"Mister Bass eh? What has he been doing now?" Alejadro asked over his shoulder, slicing up pork. Blair shuddered instinctively. She hated it when people called him "Mister Bass." It reminded her too much of his father.
Blair sighed. Of course the cook knew who Chuck was. Not only was he the richest man in the city, he was the one who had introduced her to this place and to the magical brown sauce. He had taken her there when she relapsed; it was the only thing that she wanted to eat without throwing up. Blair remembered how he had watched her slowly swallow every bite, his hand resting softly on her thigh, stroking circles.
She knew he came here fairly often when he wanted to be alone, but he had no idea that, late at night, she did the same. It had never occurred to Blair that he might talk about her. She paused.
"I had lunch with his friend. His best friend. Behind his back. Which would really not be that complicated if it wasn't for the fact that he is dating my best friend and he and I used to date until they had sex behind my back and then I had sex with his best friend behind his back to get him back and it would all be so much less complicated if we didn't have backs!" Blair slammed her cup on the counter, sending a few nachos to the floor.
Alejandro nodded knowingly. Blair sighed again; her drink was almost gone and she was quickly sobering. She absentmindedly wondered what horchata would taste like with peppermint schnopps.
"So que pasó? What happened to make you come here so late?" he pulled up a stool and sat facing Blair, his only customer. She ate another nacho and pondered the question.
"Alejandro, you're the only one who understands me. So I'll tell you," she paused dramatically.
"I didn't tell him about the lunch because Nate and I were planning his surprise party and I didn't want him to know anything because his last birthday we were fighting and it was so bad and I broke his Roman statue when I threw it out the window and it hit a car and then he had to pay a huge fine and then we didn't speak for a week and it was just terrible. Terrible, Alejandro, you know?"
Alejandro was silent, trying to process everything.
"And I didn't tell him because he gets so jealous even though it's been over between me and Nate for years now and we only hooked up once after that and it was stupid and drunk and I was sad and drunk… kind of like tonight," Blair's eyes began to fill with tears.
"He doesn't trust me… he doesn't love me!" Blair wailed with her head on the counter, decency be damned. Alejandro answered the phone that had been incessantly ringing while shooting a look of pity towards Blair.
Blair wiped her eyes on a napkin. It was moments like these that she wished she could just end it with Chuck once and for all. But she had tried, and he had tried, and they had both failed. They were Blair and Chuck, Chuck and Blair, and no matter how much it hurt they simply couldn't be with anyone else.
Blair hiccupped. It was 4:28. It had been hours since the fight, but she didn't want to go home. She knew he'd call the hotel she liked to stay at when they weren't speaking, so she couldn't go there either…
She was sobering up quickly, but the schnopps were all gone. Maybe this was it. This was their definitive break. Her heart ached and she wished she had more alcohol. Alejandro gently touched her arm, distracting her from her dark thoughts.
"Someone is here to see you," he said softly, gesturing towards the door.
Blair spun around on the bar stool, and sure enough there was Chuck, looking all disheveled in a way that Blair couldn't help but find incredibly sexy.
He strode towards her quickly. "What the fuck Blair?!" he growled angrily, and Blair's eyes began to water, the alcohol left in her system refusing to let her mask her emotions.
He stopped, sighed, and raised a hand to stroke her cheek as she bit her lip to keep the tears from falling. Chuck pulled her into his arms, not caring that her greasy hands were going all over his cashmere coat.
"Do you know… how long I've been looking for you?" he whispered into her ear as he held her.
"Does this mean you still love me, Bass?" she regained her composure and cockily smiled as she looked up into his eyes.
"I think you know just how much…" his raspy voice grazed her seductively as his hands moved down to her hips "I love you, Waldorf."
"When we get home, you can show me," Blair raised her eyebrows suggestively. Chuck could barely contain himself as she grabbed her purse, casually tossing some bills on the counter. They walked into the cold night, arm in arm.