MONTH 2

Serena doesn't have morning sickness and Chuck's eternally grateful for that. Pressing her warm body closer to his, he inhales the sweet cinnamon scent of her hair and relishes in the warmth of her tanned, golden skin; he doesn't know how this all started but he won't complain. Ever since Lily was left penniless by the low bred Humphrey's and ran off to god knows where, Serena had sought comfort from Chuck through that odd not quite brother sister, not quite friends, not quite fuck buddies relationship they managed to build. Chuck bought Serena a high end apartment (top floor, of course), gave her a generous bank account, and unlimited access to those funds through a shiny silver visa; at first, Serena used him as a friend and human bank account but through some odd twist of fate, things between them quickly escalated.

Those midnight calls to starve away boredom became genuine conversations filled with fun, teasing, (a little bit of lust), and comfort all the while delving into the deepest parts of each others soul. Chuck and Serena spent their days apart and their nights together in either Serena's apartment or Chuck's penthouse; they began to rely on each other in the way only two intimate lovers did and more than once did they have to correct (or not correct) an elderly couple, a shop store owner, a business clerk, an airline hostess, that they were not husband and wife. But eventually, they stopped caring about those little mistakes in name because they began to enjoy it-not that they'd ever tell the other. Would Chuck Bass ever admit that he felt warm and genuinely happy when a smiling associate of his would greet them both with a "hello, Charles, Mrs. Bass," before leading them to his office? No. Would Serena ever tell a soul that she felt elated when a boutique owner would inquire whether "the Mrs. Bass would enjoy the pink gown or the yellow?" by Bass, no.

But these little things, these feelings, manifested themselves into an urging release that the two had acted carelessly (or perhaps not so carelessly) upon one night and consummated under the glass roofing of the Bass penthouse, the stars shining on them as they did so.

"I care about you, Chuck," the blonde had murmured when she believed him to be asleep.

"I care about you, S," the dark haired business tycoon had whispered back the following morning, when he saw she was still fast asleep.

"God, Chuck, I hate this! Your always hounding me down and I can't even get a goddamn coffee without finding out that one of your goons was freaking stalking me?" An enraged Serena van der Woodsen snapped as the two sat inside the Bass limo, a window put up between themselves and the driver as the blonde shouted her displeasure. "Your becoming a real overprotective dick, Bass."

"Perhaps I wouldn't need to be if you didn't keep a string of horny teenage boys following you around like puppies, S. They'll jump you in a second and slap you the next but of course, you're too blindsided by your own silly little tittering to really pay attention now aren't you?" He spits back, his voice cold and harsh. Devoid of all and any emotion as his icy brown eyes remain fixed on the opposite leather couch across from him because despite the fact that they were arguing like no tomorrow, Serena still sat right next to him. Close enough that he could smell her perfume and feel the warmth from the exposed parts of her skin. He wanted to go back to where those slobbering high school boys had stood and gun each and every one of them down. They were not allowed to look-or even think-of her in that way. She was his and his alone.

Serena, however, didn't catch onto his train of thought because she merely huffed again in indignation. "So what now? I'm your prisoner? If you won't let me out of he penthouse I'll go crazy, Bass."

"You can leave the penthouse anytime you want, Serena."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "I can?"

"Of course. Pack up and go right now if you want."

She frowns. "That's not what I mean Chuck, and you know it."

"Do I?" He asks softly, his voice as steely as it ever was.

A pregnant pause fills the air before Chuck feels a warm hand on his dark gray overcoat and then feels her press her body against his. "All I'm asking is that you stop having people follow me around. It pisses me off and you know it. You also know that's the only reason why I even keep those idiot boys around because I know it makes you mad,"-Chuck chuckles inwardly at that, it didn't just make him mad: it made him furious-"but I wouldn't even have started if you didn't have those guards keeping tabs on me like I'm some sort of prized show dog that you can just parade around everywhere."

"Far from it, Serena. Your a queen," he insists, his voice sudden and biting that she looks a bit stunned before her face melts into a dreamy smile that has Chuck smirking as well.

"And you should know that I'm yours and nobody else's. I don't like fighting with you," she murmurs as she buries her face in his chest, somehow managing to make her way unto his lap as they spoke until the was cradling her body, his own chin resting on her head. Suddenly a wicked smile appears on her face as she faces him, "I'd much rather spend the time we arguing into something productive."

He smirks. "And what would that be, S?"

"Sex." Was her only response before the limousine stopped and Serena slipped from his arms, out the door and into the penthouse with a smirking Chuck Bass following. He was becoming soft around her, he knew that, but he also knew that as long as he had her, he really just couldn't give a damn.

Spotted: S and C leaving C's penthouse at the end of Month #2 decked out in Armani and Dolce with a slew of man-slaves carrying suitcases and bags. Seems like our C thinks S needs a change of scenery, after all, the UES wintertide is coming up and although we all know that as much as S enjoys being a live Xmas angel, she'd do much better sunbathing on the beach (boys beware: C has a killer right hook). St. Barts better watch out: your new king and queen will be arriving soon.

You know you love me,

XOXO,

Gossip Girl