Author's note: Before I begin, let me make myself plain since I forgot to do this at the end of last chapter: I do not condone hacking. At all.
That said, I hope you enjoy this chap because I thoroughly enjoyed writing it, and by the end I got a really good hang on what should happen so :)
THESE LITTLE HORRORS, THESE LITTLE HOURS, part three
Please say we're almost there. Please say we're almost there.
'Cause I can't move another inch. Can't feel my legs.
- Greycoats, Watchman, What is Left of the Night?
Chuck regarded her moving in her bedroom, flitting really, through half-lidded eyes. the fact that she was in her bathrobe and that it hugged her curves even with the slip underneath the flimsy material had almost nothing to do with it. The truth of it was, he'd barely slept the previous night, what with the plane ride and then waiting for Blair to land. Naps here and there did not a night replace.
"Is that all?" he sighed before suppressing a yawn. He had a feeling she wasn't done, actually.
"No!" she cried, fluffing her pillows and then digging into her suitcase for God knew what. Ah, tomorrow's outfit. "Isn't there a more legal way to do all that, Chuck?"
"We're not cracking the Pentagon here, Blair," Chuck sighed, leaning more fully on the jamb.
Blair held up two pressed woollen pencil skirts against the silvery blouse she held up against her chest with her chin. "Turquoise or dark pink?" Chuck jerked his head at the dark pink, making a mental note to find his pink-cuffed blazer. "Maybe not, but it still doesn't make hacking right."
"Rest assured, Eric is discreet and won't wreak havoc on poor unsuspecting Woodard. He won't even notice a thing."
Blair pursed her lips dubiously. "He could still get caught."
Chuck rubbed his eyes, releasing the pressure building behind them. "A good investigator uses every means possible," he said monotonely, thinking that much should be obvious to her.
Blair surprised him when she didn't berate him again. Instead, her voice was closer when she spoke again. "Is that what we are?" she asked, a smile in her voice and her face when he opened his eyes. She stood right in front of him, slipping her arms around his neck.
"I guess," he replied, accepting the soft press of her body without question.
Her eyes searched his for a long moment while he made a concerted effort to stay awake. Then she made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "Okay, fine, put Eric on it. Our guy looks sketchy anyway." Then she frowned at him. "Chuck, you're about to fall asleep on me."
A wan smirk stretched Chuck's lips. Ya think? But… "Princess, if I were on you I wouldn't be–"
She guffawed, pushing him backwards in the right direction – out of her room. "Get out!" When he merely swayed on the spot, she added sternly, "Bed, Chuck."
Chuck contemplated pointing out that her bed was closest, but she was right, actually. He was essentially dead on his feet. "Goodnight, Blair," he yawned, making his way dutifully to the master bedroom across the hall. He didn't crack a joke to himself as usual about the double-entendre behind the word "master". He passed out as soon as he hit his Egyptian eight-count.
#
"Chuck? Chuck, breakfast is ready."
The figure peeking out of the mound of blankets grunted, moving sinuously away from Blair's quiet voice. Even so, seconds later a cool hand jammed onto his forehead, making him recoil deeper into the warmth of his little nest of comfort.
"You should eat, Chuck. It's almost noon."
Wouldn't beat his record, Chuck thought fleetingly to himself before making an effort to get up. Yawning, he stretched out, then peeked at her out of a bleary eye. Judging by the strain and sting he could feel in it, he'd wager it was bloodshot or would soon be. "Morning," he greeted, wincing at the scratch in his throat.
She'd laid the tray at the foot of his bed. Breakfast in bed… the best. "Good night?" she inquired distractedly as she poured milk from a porcelain pitcher into a bowl of muslix, then another.
"Slept like a baby."
Passing him a bowl and spoon, she considered him a moment before digging in. "Good. Looks like you needed it."
"Seems I did," he agreed quietly.
Their crunching reigned over the silence for a moment before she pointed her spoon at him. "Do you have to go work today?"
"I'm meeting an interior designer for Victrola later, but I was thinking we could check in with Eric and see what he's got on Woodard." Thoughtfully he bit into a grape, sucking the juice before speaking again. "We should also talk to Sasha or at least…"
"Approach him as friends of Muffy's?" Blair ventured, already knowing where his thoughts were headed. To be perfectly honest, she'd been thinking along the same lines herself. They needed to get a handle on all the players involved. Playing their cards as his sister's friends would get them to hone in on both Sasha and Woodard at the same time to make sense of who-done-what. Character studies, so to speak. "I think the second option's better, but there's one problem." At Chuck's quizzical look she cocked her head. "We're kind of older than Emma and Muffy."
Chuck's slow smile didn't bode well and even made him look like a repressed devil, glad for its little nip out. "I still have my uniform," he drawled, eyeing her up and down," kept for… such purposes. Don't you still have a plaid skirt or three?"
It was wholly unsettling that he knew the exact number.
He looked at her, calculating eyes dressing her from head to toe as though he'd just slipped off her bathrobe and négligée. Blair shivered, unconsciously touching the knot of her bathrobe to ensure it hadn't come undone without her knowing. Still her body tingled under his heated gaze, blooming right under her skin. "We can even find you a headband, some killer heels, and red tights to match, too." Despite his relative distance, Blair could almost swear the space between them had closed in on itself. "You did rather like those tights."
Blair swallowed around the dry knot in her throat. "So did you," she breathed, adding nearly imperceptibly under her breath, "off."
When she looked back up, Chuck's eyes burned a brand in her skin as he crawled over to the foot of his bed where she sat with her knees wrapped primly under her. "Especially off," he whispered huskily, voice deeper than usual, before cradling her cheek and leaning in. Blair braced herself against him, grasping the wrinkled silk shirt he'd slept in. His warmth seeped into her fingertips, completely obliterating the cool nip of the air. "But I'm quite partial to them on you, too."
Blair sighed as his mouth moved over her jaw, then to the tender flesh pulsing below, leaving a wet trail that left gooseflesh in his wake. "Only if you wear that horrible scarf," she purred back, seeking the nape of his neck to delve her fingers into the fine hairs that had him shivering at once even as he twisted her around to hover over her.
"Deal," he whispered, wandering hand finding the silken knot of her bathrobe and pushing it open over her thin lilac shift.
Things were moving too fast, Blair realised even as she struggled not to arch into the temptation of Chuck's hot kisses and of her own speeding heart. "Chuck…" she managed finally between his possessive hand stroking her lacy hip deliciously and the intoxicating nips on her earlobe. "Chuck…"
He must have heard the desperation in her voice, because he pulled away with an oath, dilated eyes focusing on her face worriedly. "What–" he started, only to be interrupted by his ringing phone.
Flicking it open without even looking at the name on caller ID, he barked into it. "What." Raking a trembling hand through his hair, he held Blair's wide eyes as she lay before him, coiled as though to spring away. What had he done this time, dammit? Momentarily distracted by her half-frightened features, he belatedly remembered his interlocutor, who was calling his name as though he'd been out of it for a moment. He supposed he had. "Oh, hi Eric… No I'm fine… Good, I'll be there in an hour."
Chuck snapped his phone shut slowly, sitting back on his haunches to await the rejection that was sure to come. When it didn't he cleared his throat, looking further away even than before. Out the window. "So… Eric's on to something."
Releasing a small breath, Blair sat up, feeling all kinds of stupid as she thought of the best way to explain herself. "Chuck, I didn't mean – look at me, Chuck, please," she said imploringly, reaching for his jaw to turn his face to her.
He looked. God, she glowed, thoroughly kissed, and even now she leaned in for another one, sweet and light.
"I just don't want to go too fast, Chuck. Not this time."
Chuck shut his eyes a moment, then climbed off the bed completely, releasing a whooshing, calming breath. "I'll, uh, I won't be long. You should get ready too." And with that he disappeared in the connected bathroom and shut the door behind him. A moment later she heard the shower running.
Blair swallowed hard and dallied just a moment longer to let the tension loosen in her body. Damn, what had she just done?
#
The ride to the van der Woodsens' new living quarters – a new Bass acquisition at the edge of Manhattan – was silent most of the way. Remorse kept eating at Blair while Chuck just stared out like an unblinking statue. Blair, on the other hand, fidgeted, played with the artfully ribboned edge of her woollen skirt that matched Chuck's pink blazer cuffs, cleared her throat discreetly, jerked her knee… slowly killing herself wondering if Chuck would finally, please acknowledge the perfect moment she'd absolutely ruined for them both. Shit, he hated her.
"So." She cleared her scratchy throat, yet still he didn't move, though she did detect a small eye movement. He was listening. If anything, she should probably resort to a safer, neutral subject. "Did Eric tell you what exactly he came across?"
"Not really," he mumbled tonelessly.
Blair lay her head against the seat as the limousine came to a full stop at a red light. She sighed, staring at the ceiling. Traffic. They'd likely be here for a while yet. Reaching up, she pressed the button to shut the partition for some privacy, then lay back against the firm headrest. "Are we going to talk about it?"
Chuck took a moment to answer, still tonelessly, "What is there to talk about?"
"Chuck…" Blair sighed in exasperation. He was making it really hard for her.
Chuck matched her sigh, then looked over. There was a calmness about him that she hadn't expected. "I understand, Blair. That's not the problem," he said quietly.
"Then what?" she asked, completely at a loss. She'd actually expected anger, accusations of "tease" and "cock-blocker", but nothing like the almost serene dejection he pursed his lips, then resumed staring outside. When he answered, it was almost resignedly, like it had been torn out of him by force. "I don't want to screw up," he muttered under his breath, probably hoping she wouldn't hear.
She heard. Read him clearly at last. Scooted closer to grasp his clasped hand. "Me neither, Chuck."
Blair had been the only one to break his habit of one-night stands, yet even then they'd never really talked about anything but pure physical release though, at least in Blair's mind, he'd been so much more than her enabler. He'd been… the release to everything she'd always been but repressed. He'd made her bloom, made her entire being feel alive. His touch awakened; his eyes never lied when they quietly spoke of beauty; his body warmed her till she burned; his lips lay sole claim on her. And she'd done the same, until it had scared them both when they missed it. And it hadn't just been her body craving him. Her heart had hurt, too. And it had scared her even more.
She'd wanted to die. And then she'd applied herself to forgetting him after high school. Nevermind the fact that it had been impossible. At least she'd managed just fine on her own.
Yet now they'd been given another chance, and by God they weren't going to screw it up. Hence Chuck's misguidance where love, relationships and sex were concerned. He had no clue. Neither did she, to be honest.
"We'll figure this out," she whispered, fingers tightening over his just as he leaned in to kiss her. As he pulled away, however, she held his coat lapels to keep him close, and her heart burned. "I want you, Chuck. God, I want you."
Dark eyes flared as they held hers, intense, wide. "But I thought–"
Blair shook her head, silencing him with a look. "But this is too important."
Chuck swallowed hard, and then he lay his head back against the leather seat, taking a deep breath. "Well, we both know how much I want you," he said wryly, and Blair chuckled when she beheld the bulge in his pants.
The limo stopped in front of an unfamiliar building. Chuck groaned darkly before getting out without a word, without even waiting for his chauffeur, who merely shrugged and went to help Blair out instead.
As she joined him at the elevators, Blair slid her hand into his in concern, murmuring, "I'm sorry, Chuck."
The elevator dinged its arrival, and Chuck punched a button more forcefully than necessary. "I don't mean to sound like an asshole, Blair," he began with an inward cringe, "but can you please not talk or touch me for the next twenty-three floors?"
#
"Blair?"
A very surprised Eric was left gaping after Chuck as the latter brushed past him and right into his bedroom where a veritable mother ship of a computer rumbled quietly, waiting for its master.
"Are you two… You're in on this thing? What's with him?"
Blair stood wearily from her seat on the settee and shook her head before following wordlessly after Chuck. This was something the astute boy definitely did not need to know. Nevermind the fact that staying silent probably told him a lot.
"O… kay…" And he followed the twosome to his pride of a recently custom-built tower that had taken months to get just right. "Right," he mumbled, typing a few keys to revive the sleeping machine. "So I'm guessing you're… working together on this?"
Blair nodded when Chuck wouldn't come away from the window where he'd stationed himself or answer. He simply scowled.
Eric peered at her over his shoulder for a second, Cece's piercing eyes studying her and definitely understanding the situation and all its facets. "Right. Anyway." He clicked on his desktop, bringing up an image of a program window that lacked any user-friendliness. "Your guy's into some pretty… interesting stuff. Covers his tracks, or so he thinks, but the thing is, the data that comes into a computer is never completely erased, even after cleaning temporary files and cookies."
"We know, kid," Chuck muttered, making an impatient hand gesture that was reflected in the window.
Smothering a grin, Eric enlarged the image full of numbers and dots and names that made no sense to Blair, until he reached one of several rows he'd highlighted. "See these numbers and dots? That's the IP address you buy when you register a domain name. It basically indicates where the website can be found on a server, where in the world, that kind of stuff, and refers to the site because otherwise it'd be difficult to remember that 74 . 14 . 205 . 100 is google . com, for example."
Blair nodded, leaning over closer to read the numbers displayed on the screen. "What URL does that IP address refer to?"
"A heavily protected porn forum where–" Eric broke off, hesitating. "Guys, it doesn't look good," he said carefully.
Finally Chuck turned to face them, and walked over behind Eric resolutely. "Show us."
Fingers hovering over the keys only for a moment, Eric bit his lip and pulled up a web client Blair had never seen before, then quickly typed the address apparently from memory. Some text appeared, from suggestive to all-out raunchy, and then pictures began popping randomly over the screen.
Blair swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Chuck stared fixedly, clenching and unclenching his fists involuntarily. Then she coughed. "Excuse me." And she disappeared in the bathroom, taking deep breaths to stop the upward flow.
Martin Woodard was evidently one sick bastard and needed to see some solid iron bars for the rest of his life.
Author's note: Oooh, suspense. What sick activities is Woodard involved in?
Anyone lost with all the geek talk? I mean, I don't think it's that difficult to understand but of course I'm a web/graphic design student so it's pretty much a yawn. If you need further explanation, just ask, I won't bite :)