Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to Cecily von Zeigesar and The CW.
Chuck sat at his mahogany desk and tried to focus on the file in front of him.
It had been almost three months since he took over the empire, and things were going better than anyone could have expected. Chuck's vision for the company was different that Bart's. Nobody argued that point, but his instincts were possibly better. Real estate development was still the principle driving force of the company, but they were branching out into other avenues . . . nightclubs, restaurants, and department stores. Every move that was being made was looking better than the next.
Chuck was proud of what he had accomplished in such a short amount of time, but there was one thing that he was more proud of . . . his relationship with Blair. They were coming up on six months together, and he could not be more thrilled with the way things were going between them.
The next day was Thanksgiving Day, and would mark their six month anniversary. It seemed a little ironic even to him as it was her favorite holiday. This year they were celebrating at his penthouse. Everyone that mattered in his life was going to be there, Blair, of course, the van der Woodsens and by extension Rufus and Jenny Humphrey, Blair's father and Roman, and Nate and his mother. It was going to be a wonderful day, but looking into Blair's eyes as he left for work that morning, he knew that two people would be missing from the dinner table. It broke his heart as she forced a smile as she kissed him goodbye for the day.
"Mister Bass, Mister Rose is here to see you," his assistant told him as she entered his office.
"Chuck," he mumbled. Eugenia still refused to call him by his first name. It was part of their daily bantering back and forth that he usually found so amusing, but today he wasn't in the mood.
Eugenia frowned that her teasing didn't draw out the usual playful smirk from her boss. "Should I send him in?"
"Yes," he nodded as he closed the file, "And close the door on your way out."
She frowned once more as she told Cyrus to enter before she closed the door behind him. Chuck never closed his door. She was usually privy to all of his conversations. This must be pretty important.
"Charles, always a pleasure," Cyrus stated as he walked into his office and extended his hand to the young man.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me," Chuck replied as he motioned for Cyrus to choose one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. Once he had sat down, Chuck sat in the other chair. He didn't feel comfortable sitting in his usual spot on the other side of his desk. This wasn't a business meeting, and he wasn't the boss at the moment.
"I must say I was a little surprised when your secretary called mine and requested this meeting," Cyrus admitted.
"I'm sorry if I pulled you away from some important business," Chuck apologized.
"Nonsense," Cyrus replied, "It's the day before Thanksgiving, nothing is important today."
"One thing is," Chuck sighed.
"Blair," Cyrus concluded, "How is she?"
"Amazing," Chuck eyes lit up at the mention of her.
"Tomorrow's a big day for her," Cyrus stated.
"Her favorite holiday," Chuck nodded, "Everyone is going to be celebrating with us. . . except you and Eleanor. I know our last evening together went badly, but I think we should try again. Perhaps the holidays can be the excuse for them to declare the cease fire."
"Chuck, personally I think it's wonderful that you and Blair are together and that you are so happy," Cyrus began, "But Eleanor is my wife, and she is still furious with her daughter's decision. I may not share her opinion, but I have to respect it."
"Eleanor can be mad all she wants that Blair is dating me, but that's not going to change anything between the two of us. Will Eleanor really let this rip her and her daughter apart?" Chuck inquired, "Because I know Blair, she is not going to back down on this. She'll sever all ties with her mother."
"Do you really believe that?" Cyrus asked, his eyes conveying the fear he felt at the possibility.
"I know for certain," Chuck nodded, "She's already doing it. If this doesn't get fixed soon, it never will."
"So, you want me to bring Eleanor to your suite at the Palace and start World War III?" Cyrus surmised.
"Not exactly," Chuck responded, "I no longer live at the Palace, but World War III does seem like a possibility. I'm hoping that with Harold there, he can play the mediator and ensure that things do not get too out of control. He always seems to have a calming influence on Blair."
"I will do my best," Cyrus stated.
"Thank you," Chuck responded as he extended his hand to Cyrus once more, "That's all I ask." Cyrus quickly shook it before he got up to leave.
"Eugenia, how does leaving early sound?" Chuck inquired after he walked Cyrus to the elevator and then returned to sit at the edge of his assistant's desk.
"That depends," Eugenia asked, "Will you be leaving as well?"
"Yes," Chuck nodded as his missing smile from earlier return, "Blair's father gets in later this evening, and I'd like to have a little alone time with Blair before he shows up. She has already told me that while we can still sleep in the same bed, there will be no extracurricular activities until after her father leaves."
Eugenia began snickering in response as she saw the exasperation in his eyes at the thought. She had worked for Bass Industries for a long time, so she knew her boss's reputation as a womanizer. She was surprised when she first heard Chuck mention that he had a steady girlfriend. It was quite clear even during their first meeting that he was completely in love with her.
"And how long is Mister Waldorf staying with you?" she inquired.
"Four long nights," he sighed. He didn't know how Blair had convinced him that it would be a good idea for Harold and Roman to stay with them for the holiday. Perhaps it was the eagerness in which she exhibited at the thought of having their first house guests.
"Perhaps you should have held onto your suite at the Palace," his assistant mused.
"Don't think that thought hasn't crossed my mind," he chuckled, "What are you and your family doing tomorrow?"
"We're having a quiet dinner together," she replied at our apartment.
"If you'd rather have a noisy dinner with Blair and our family, you are more than welcome," Chuck responded.
"We don't want to intrude," Eugenia stated, visibly touched that he was even extending the offer.
"Nonsense," he laughed, "Blair has ordered enough food to feed a small Army. We have an amazing view of the Macy's Parade, which I'm sure that your sons would love."
"I'll mention it to my husband," she replied.
"Good. I hope to see you and your family tomorrow," he smiled as he stood up from her desk, "Get your things together. I'm kicking you out in five minutes."
"You're home early," Blair greeted him upon hearing the elevator chime his arrival. Her arms went around his neck immediately as she leaned in to kiss him. She was wearing a cute little apron and had a pot holder on her hand. The penthouse smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg. He prayed that someone else was there helping her cook.
"Well, your father gets in at eight," he responded.
"And you wanted to get in a few last rolls in the hay before then," she concluded.
"Four nights," he replied with a groan as he pressed himself against her.
"I have to finish the pumpkin pie first. It's almost finished," she stated as she shrugged out of his arms and returned to the kitchen.
He quickly emptied his pockets on the entry table before he nervously followed her. His imagination was working overtime at the thought that she had been in the kitchen attempting to cook her father's traditional holiday dessert. He imagined flour everywhere, pots and pans scatter about, and smoke billowing out of the oven, but the reality was anything but. The kitchen was as tidy as it ever was. The only proof that anything had been done, was the pie that he could see in the oven.
"Where's Dorota?" Chuck inquired as he came behind her to put his arms around her waist as she stared intently at the pie to ensure that it wouldn't overcook.
"What makes you think that I didn't cook this pie all by myself?" she responded defensively.
"Because your idea of cooking is the same as mine," he chuckled into her ear as he pulled her tight against him, "Dial the caterer."
"Dorota left fifteen minutes ago," Blair conceded as she relaxed into his embrace. "She told me to take this pie out in twenty minutes. I have five left, but she said that the last five minutes are critical and that I have to watch it very closely so that it doesn't burn. Does it look like its burning to you?"
"What does burning pumpkin pie look like?" he inquired as he kissed one of the sensitive spots behind her ear.
"I have no idea," she sighed as her eyes involuntarily closed with the sensations he was creating.
"You look so sexy in this little apron," he mused as his hands went to the ties at the back and began undoing it.
"Chuck," she groaned as she elbowed him in the ribs, "Not yet. Let me finish this first. I want this to be perfect for Daddy."
Chuck groaned at the blow to his ribs. It hurt a little more than he was sure she intended. "Are you trying to break a rib?"
"It would certainly slow you down," she teased as he took a few steps away to lean over the counter in pain. She didn't realize how much pain he was truly in until he bent over. The worry kicked in immediately. "Chuck, are you okay?"
"Give me a minute," he requested as her hand went to his back in an effort to sooth him.
"What can I do?" she pressed. "Do you need ice?"
"I'll be okay," he assured her as he stood up as the pain began to subside, "Just meet me in the bedroom as soon as that pie gets out of the oven."
She nodded as she watched him leave the kitchen. She felt absolutely horrible for the physical pain she had inflicted. Tears were stinging her eyes as she peered into the oven once more.
"How'd the pie turn out?" Chuck inquired as she made her way into the bedroom minutes later. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
"Fine," she sniffled as she climbed up onto the bed to lie next to him.
"What is it?" he asked as he wiped the tears off her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry," Blair stated as she buried her face in his chest as the tears flowed harder.
"What are you sorry for?" he laughed softly. Every now and then she'd get emotional over the most ridiculous things, which left him guessing as to what was really wrong. He knew her better than he knew himself, but days like today seemed to sneak up on him.
"For hurting you," she responded, her voice muffled by the fact that she was talking into his shirt.
"I'm okay," he assured her as he caressed her shoulders gently as he placed a kiss at the top of her head.
"But your ribs?" she inquired as she rubbed his side gently as she looked up at him.
"It hurt," he nodded, "But it doesn't anymore. I promise."
Her tears began to subside but her sniffling continued. "I don't know why I'm so emotional right now. Perhaps it's that time of the month or something," she tried to offer up an explanation for her emotional outburst.
"Or perhaps it's because tomorrow is your favorite day of the year, and you haven't invited your mother to dinner," he offered. He had been intent on surprising her with her mother's arrival the next day, but he suddenly realized that it wouldn't be a good idea. "Blair, I called Cyrus today. I asked him to see about bringing Eleanor to our dinner tomorrow."
"You did what!" she burst out in anger.
"Blair, she's your mother, and it's the holidays. It's a time to be with family, and she's a part of your family," he responded, trying to get the explanation out quick enough before she completely lost her temper.
"You are my family," she replied, "Until my mother accepts that, she is not."
"Yes, she is," he insisted, "And she always will be. She's just concerned about you. The points she made when we told her about us were valid. She just wants you to be happy."
"I am happy," she growled.
"And it's so obvious right now," he chuckled as she gave him her devilish glare.
"Not the time for jokes, Bass," she hissed.
"You're right," he sobered up quickly, "I'm sorry."
"Call Cyrus and uninvited my mother to dinner tomorrow," she demanded, "This is my favorite holiday, and I will not have my mother ruining it for me."
"If your mother is not here, it will be ruined," he responded as he was intent on holding his ground.
"Chuck, please," she responded as a single tear rolled down her cheek.
"Please try for me," he requested as he wiped the tear away. "I don't want to be the reason that you and your mother don't speak."
"You aren't the reason that we don't speak," she tried to assure him, "My mother is the reason that we don't speak. You know as well as anyone how messed up our relationship was long before you and I ever got involved."
"But the reason that you currently are not speaking is because of your involvement with me," he insisted, "I can't ignore that. Despite your complicated relationship, you still love her, and the fact that you two are not speaking is tearing you apart. I see it in your eyes every day."
"It's so sweet that you want to try and fix this," she stated smiling through the tears as she caressed his chin gently, "But could we do this any other day?"
"No," he shook his head, "Tomorrow is the perfect day."
"Because Daddy is going to be here," she realized, "You're counting on him to play peacemaker."
"Well the role certainly will not fall to me," he mused, "And I wouldn't dream of asking Cyrus to pick sides. Your father is the natural choice."
"You're lucky that I love you, Bass," she responded as she gave him a devilish grin, "If anyone else had tried to pull what you did, I'd have their head on a platter."
"How about we just roll around on this bed?" he countered as he rolled her on top of him.
"That's not much of a punishment, Bass," she snapped, "And I'm mad at you."
"By all means, punish away," he responded, trying to hide the smirk that he knew was threatened to form on his lips, "I've been a very bad, bad Bass."
Blair didn't respond to him other than to smack him in the rips once more.
"Blair, that still hurts," he responded as he held his side in pain again.
"I'm sorry," she pouted as she leaned down to kiss him in hopes that it would make amends.
"Your father gets here in just a few short hours, we've got a lot of time to make up for and not much time to do it," he pointed out as he looked at the clock next to their bed, "You have ten seconds to get yourself naked before I start tearing your clothes off."
"You drive me crazy, Bass," she stated as she began to button her blouse. She wasn't moving fast enough as he flipped them over so that he was on top as he began helping her remove her clothes so he could begin ravaging her.
"The feeling is mutual, Waldorf," he assured her.
TBC. . .
