"You're back."

Her voice interrupts his inspection of the latest stock ratings, and his gaze immediately sways from the papers in his hand. She is standing in the door, leaning causally against the doorframe. The rush of excitement is instant and overwhelming.

"I am." He replies and he gets to his feet, though he doesn't walk up to her. He is suddenly nervous, doesn't know where to put his hands, and he doesn't like it. Slowly he moves so that he is standing in front of his desk, leaning leisurely against the dark wood and shoving his hands down his pockets to keep from fidgeting.

"I can't believe you got me a kitten."

"It might have been a little too much," he begins, "If you don't,"

"No," she cuts him off with a soft smile. "She's perfect, thank you."

He relaxes visibly in front of her eyes, and all she wants to do is stride across the room and throw her arms around him. Her heart is pounding in her chest and he looks so good and she has missed him

"You're welcome. So?"

"So," she repeats, and decides that there is no turning back now. She has made up her mind. "Remember how I said that it was too soon?" She doesn't bother with specifying what she means by 'it', they both know exactly what this conversation is all about.

He cocks an eyebrow in a way that says 'yes I do know', and she continues;

"I was wrong. It wasn't too soon, it was too late."

Momentarily confused he can feel his lungs begin constrict painfully. She's wrong, she has to be. He won't let her get away. He is about to object, but then he notices that she doesn't look cold or distant. No, she's standing there with a small smile playing on her lips.

"Years too late, actually." She points out, and has to work hard not to jump up and down with excitement as walks up to him. "We should never have stopped in the first place."

The context of what she is saying hits him, and he pushes off the desk and walks up to meet her. He stops right in front of her, so close they are almost touching. The air between them charged with something so strong it almost feels touchable.

"Is that so?" He smirks, and in that second she understands that she won't have to fight this time, that they're on the same page. The relief and joy surging through her body is overwhelming.

"Yes," she agrees distractedly, trying to feign disinterest. She reaches out and wraps her fingers around the lapels of his suit, the material soft against her skin, and brushes some invisible lint away. Then she can't keep a straight face any longer, and shots him a mischievous smile, "So what are you waiting for, Bass?"

She tugs impatiently at the lapels of his jacket, and that is all the encouragement he needs. In one swift movement his lips find hers and his hands find her way into her hair. They kiss and it's familiar and thrilling all at once. No fear, no games and no hurt.

This is all he'll ever need. Her lips are so soft against his, so welcoming and so right. The only word echoing in his head is 'home'.

They reluctantly break off the kiss, their foreheads still touching. She is smiling and he is grinning back at her because 'Chuck Bass' or not, there is no way he could keep a straight face. For a moment lost in being young and crazy in love he picks her up and swirls her around, his grin broadening when she lets out a very un-Blair giggle. Then her legs wrap around his waist and the mood changes instantly. Her lips find his again; their kiss deepens and once again becomes the main focus. Stumbling blindly, she is all he can see, he ends up putting her down on the desk to be able to touch her the way he wants.

She is laughing breathily as he stumbles, but the sound quickly dies in her throat as he puts her down on the desk and his lips find her neck.

She has been thinking and thinking for the last days, and now she is sick of thinking. She wants to act. His hands are making light work of her yellow blouse, eager to find the skin hidden underneath. She is about to object, a part of her mind still reasonable, but then his tongue replaces his hands and she stops thinking all together. Her legs still wrapped around him tighten their hold, and pull him closer, her hands finding their way into his hair.

More.Her sounds of encouragement, her hands tugging impatiently at his tie and the buttons of his shirt, are rapidly extinguishing all traces of reason from his mind.

The smell of her skin, the familiarity of her perfume, is intoxicating. He is savoring in the feel of her skin, pleased that he has managed to get her out of some of the hindering layers of expensive clothing. She is still working on the buttons of his shirt, having a hard time unbuttoning the line of tiny buttons with trembling fingers. Frustrated he pauses from trailing patters down her spine to help, catching her eyes and sharing a brief grin before they're back to kissing.

With joint forces they succeed in unbuttoning his shirt, and soon she is impatiently tugging it free from the waistline of his pants. Then her hands are on his skin, her nails scraping against the planes of his back. A groan escaping him as she inches closer to him, arching her hips and sending sparks racing down his spine with the friction she is creating.

Done with being patient, or at least as patient as he'll ever be around her, he grabs her hips and pulls her flush against his body when they are suddenly interrupted.

"Holy crap!"

The voice coming from the door immediately snaps her back to reality, and she could feel Chuck freeze mid-movement too. The realization that she is almost lying on top of a desk, not exactly fully dressed and with Chuck leaning over her, hits her like a wall of bricks. Feeling her face go crimson red she glances over to the door in some masochistic desire to really make it beyond questioning that they are no longer alone.

"Sorry!" Al shrieks, sounding almost as mortified as Blair is feeling, and covers her eyes.

"Out," Chuck growls, pulling off of her and moving so that he's covering her semi-clad form from sight as she sits up and quickly starts buttoning up her blouse.

"Right," Al nods behind her hand, and Blair can hear the smile in the redhead's voice as Al swiftly backs out of the office and closes the door.

Finished buttoning up her blouse, she accepts the hand he holds out for her and slides off the desk, keeping her eyes rooted on the floor the entire time, a blush still coloring her cheeks a deep shade of red.

"Hey," he murmurs, interlacing their fingers and pulling her closer. He too has arranged his clothes into a less informal style. She doesn't look at him, too busy wishing for the ground to swallow her whole, and he puts a finger under her chin to tilt her face up toward him. "You okay there, Waldorf? You look a little flushed?"

He has the nerve to chuckle, and her eyebrows knit together in displeasure.

"It's not funny!"

"Oh, but it is a little funny," he smiles. He can't seem to stop from grinning like a fool despite how certain parts of his anatomy are screaming with disappointment.

She huffs in response and swats his arm. But she can't stay mad for long and they're back to lazy kisses when there is a very obvious knock on the door. He calls out in reply, and Al comes back in the room.

"Well?" He frowns in mock offence, and Al offers him a remorseful smile.

"Sorry Fish. Blair." Al mumbles, but then she can't keep a straight face anymore, and grins; "But this time won't require therapy!"

He narrows his eyes at that, but he can't stop from lightening up quickly, and Al notices. Commenting on his unusual light-heartedness with a mischievous smirk. Blair looks between the two of them in confusion, furrowing her brows.

"Do you have a habit of entertaining women in your office, Bass?" She questions him dryly, but doesn't really seem upset at all.

"She needs to learn how to knock," he avoids the question smoothly, but he knows that she can tell what he is doing. But she smiles, and gently squeezes his hand.

"I should go," she continues, and it is his turn to tighten his grip of her hand, because he doesn't want to let her go quite yet. Though he has a ton of work to do and he knows he won't get anything done with her around.

Still he has to kiss her one more time and pulls her close. She comes to him eagerly, and melts into his arms. He is not sure he'll ever get used to this, to her being back in his arm and her lips back against his. A polite cough interrupts their administrations, and he reluctantly pulls back.

"Get a room," Al laughs, still standing in the doorway.

"We had a room, then you showed up," He points out and earns himself a laugh, then he returns his attention to the brunette next to him, "See you tonight? I should be finished by six."

The promises her eyes hold as she nods are enough to have the muscles in his stomach tightening in anticipation.

tbc