September 21st, 2015

"Our son is officially one year and one day old," Blair uttered slowly when the hour hand of her watch finally marked midnight. She had stared at it for a whole minute with pensive eyes, sipping the champagne her husband had poured for her in a crystal flute.

The traces of Henry's glorious birthday party were all around them, vivid reminders of the delightful night they had spent: golden and purple balloons still spotted the hardwood floor and the French Aubusson carpet, a rich cascading arrangement of deep purple hydrangeas framed the fireplace and some brand new toys – the ones Chuck had insisted to show Henry right after they had unwrapped all the gifts their family and close friends had brought – had been temporarily set aside in a corner.

Normally Blair would have cringed in front of the uncharacteristic chaos shrouding her always perfectly tidy formal living room, but tonight she was too relaxed and too satisfied to mind.

Chuck had convinced her to dismiss the staff before they could proceed to reorganize the disorder. After they had said goodbye to everyone come to celebrate their son's first birthday, he had insisted that he wanted a quiet moment alone with her before turning in and she had gladly indulged his desire. He had disappeared into the dining room and came back with Dom Pérignon and two portions of the Sylvia Weinstock birthday cake which had been served after dinner, ready to enjoy her exclusive company and a delicious combination of champagne and dessert.

The two empty china plates now rested on the coffee table in front of them, together with the bottle he had opened. The chandelier's lights were all off and the room was almost completely dark, except for the soft, gilded glow coming from the marble fireplace; it was oddly cold for a late September night and Blair had lighted it before curling up on the couch with her husband.

Chuck smirked, making a small mauve bowtie run slowly through his fingers. Henry had worn it for the party and everyone had gushed over how handsome he looked and how much, dressed in a miniature custom made suit, he resembled his father. "One year, five hours and three minutes old, to be exact," he clarified, tracing delicate circles up and down Blair's arm with his free hand. "Henry was born at 7:57 PM."

Blair, who had settled herself in between his legs with her back leaned against him, stiffened. She glanced over her shoulder and glared at him. "I'm well aware, Chuck," she replied annoyed. "I'm the one gave birth to your son. Remember?"

He chortled, pressing a kiss on her temple and then one on the side of her neck. "Perfectly," he stated, as she relaxed again in his arms and laid her head on his shoulder. "I think Henry really enjoyed his birthday," he said then, thinking back on the day that had just ended. Their son had spent it spoiled by everyone and surrounded by love. After all, Henry's birthday had been just a faithful portrayal of what his everyday life had been during that first, incredible year, and this awareness had left Chuck with an heartwarming feeling in his chest. "You planned such a perfect night for him."

"It's been a great party," Blair agreed, her voice sounding pleased. Everything had been flawless, from the dinner to the gifts, and she was sure that, considering how much he liked being the center of attention, Henry had loved being the praised and adored birthday boy.

"Impeccable as usual," Chuck reached out to his flute on the coffee table and clinked it together with his wife's in a discrete toast to the effort she had put into making the birthday so special. He brought the slender glass to his lips, finishing what was left of the sparking, pale liquid. "It's just a pity he won't remember it," he added after.

He had pronounced the words through a melancholic sigh. Blair, always attentive to these quick and slight changes in his demeanor, turned her head to look at him. She smiled softly at his suddenly pensive expression, understanding the unspoken, vague gloom now clouding his face.

Chuck didn't celebrate his birthday. He didn't have any joyful recollections of it; Blair knew that for most of his life he had lived it with a deep sense of guilt and that, over the years, it had instead become a reminder of how he had been abandoned.

Which was why she had been secretly observing him all day, smiling, proud and touched, at his efforts to make sure Henry enjoyed, for what he could understand, every instant of his special day. It wasn't hard for her to get why the thought that their son would have soon forgotten it saddened him.

She gently grabbed his empty flute and placed it back on the coffee table along with hers. "There will be more birthdays," she reassured him, her hand now free to cup his cheek and caress his skin in an intimate, soothing gesture, "and beautiful memories to build."

Chuck's eyes locked with hers and, after a second, he nodded, letting a thin smile rise to lips as well. Relieved to see his gaze softening with renewed serenity, she leaned towards him and kissed him quickly, before resting her head on his torso. As she rubbed her face against his dress shirt, she realized that the soft silk still smelled like Henry, who had spent a good part of the night Chuck's arms. It was the smell of joy, she decided, peacefully closing her eyes.

They were quiet for a while, both lost in their thoughts. "I can't believe it's been an year already," Blair voiced after that minute of silence, her words trailing off with a sigh.

Chuck didn't reply, his hand toying distractedly with the strands falling loosen on Blair's chest as he reflected on what she had said. It seemed like only yesterday that he was taking his baby boy in his arms for the first time, and yet just a few hours ago he had helped him to blow out his first birthday candle. In between there had been an infinite number of precious moments. Some of them had been exceptional – the long sequence of first times that marked the life of a baby – and some simple, familiar. Chuck had witnessed them all with pride and emotion, conscious of their unique importance, and he jealously treasured each memory. As Blair had said, there would have been new ones, more candles to blow and more pictures to take, but that year would have always held a special place in his heart. Although he had come to realize that parenting was an endless learning process, those months had taught him that could be a good father.

"It went by so fast," he conceded. Sometimes it all still felt so incredible that he had to take a moment to breathe Henry in and, inhaling his scent, make sure that the life he was living was actually real; a life spent raising an healthy and happy child that had his features and Blair's doe eyes, and that he loved more than anything in the world.

Chuck wrapped his arms tight around Blair's waist and sank his face into the crook of her neck.

She cupped his hands laced together on her lap with hers. "How does it make you feel?" she asked in a low voice. Her fingers, playing with his, found the bowtie he was still holding squeezed in his grip and she touched the fabric lightly, a tender smile curving her lips.

"Complete." The word, whispered against her skin, slipped away from Chuck's mouth immediate and spontaneous, before he had the time to formulate a deeper thought. Blair turned to look at him again and when he met her intense stare he shyly smiled back. "Like there is nothing that could make my life happier than it is right now," he explained better.

Blair laughed softly. "I thought you were going to say old," she joked, moving slightly in his arms to get more comfortable. Still, when she glanced up on him, guiding her hand across his chest in a long, unhurried caress, she gave him a look that made it clear that she understood what he meant. She could feel his happiness, as powerfully as she had always been able to perceive all of his concealed emotions, stronger and more vivid then her own. But this time she didn't have to rely on her empathy; the bliss he had just told her about was vibrant in his expression, so bright an pure that it was unmistakable.

So she nodded, letting him know that she felt the same way. Chuck simply smiled down at her, holding her tighter in his embrace. Nothing else needed to be said; it was all written in their eyes and in the quiet, warm silence that shrouded the room after.

Life had given Chuck all he had always wanted and more than he had ever dared to expect. Upstairs, his greatest joy slept peacefully, unaware of fear and sufferance, and that, to him, meant everything; only an year had passed since he had become a father, but Henry had already found a way to make him whole in spite of all of his missing pieces.

Notes:

[1] We reached the end of this journey! I hope you enjoyed it. This last piece is pretty short, but I think it's a right conclusion. Months ago, when I wrote it, I didn't feel I needed to add more to portray the sense of completeness Chuck is talking about. When he says "complete", he actually means it: in my head-canon, Henry is an only child. I know this is a quite unpopular opinion in the fandom, but I thought it was only fair to tell you. I see both Chuck and Blair being perfectly fulfilled at this point. I hope this didn't ruin your reading experience! It is, after all, just my view. You are completely free to interpret this completeness in a less literal way and imagine as many children as you want.

[2] Details in the chapter: Sylvia Weinstock is the pastry chef who made Blair and Louis' wedding cake (she had brief cameo in 5X09 - and also in 1X17! She was invited to Bart and Lily's wedding). I googled her and, as I expected, she's the best, so I figure Chuck and Blair would choose her for their son's first birthday cake!

[3] English is not my first language, I'm Italian. I apologize for possible mistakes.

[4] A big thank you to my dear Daphne for trusting me to write about this beautiful and delicate topic. It's been a pleasure.