"Miss Waldorf," Arthur called from the doorway, one hand poised on the knob and the other discreetly tucked behind his back. "Do you need anything else?"
"I've got it covered," she replied.
With a nod, Chuck's trusted driver quietly closed the door to Chuck's room, leaving them alone in the thick silence.
What should she do now? Where would they go from here?
Chuck sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes fixed on some distant point on the floor. It was impossible to discern what was going through his mind, if anything at all. He appeared lost, adrift in a sea of numbness. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, evident in the slump of his posture. Throughout the ride, he had drifted in and out of consciousness, his words a slurred jumble of nonsense. Blair had tried to decipher it, but except for mentions of Bart, Nate, and even Lily, nothing coherent had left his lips. Not once had he voiced that bitch's name, and for that she was grateful. Blair shook her head, trying to get rid of Georgina Sparks once and for all.
Do you like it? Seeing Chuck Bass forced to beg? Brought to his knees? I know I do. To have him wrapped around my finger, completely under my control.
There it was again. Power. Control. Dominance. What she had so desperately reveled in. To hold him at her mercy. To have him trapped beneath her, uttering her name, begging her to put him out of his misery. To have him lose all sense of time and space. To command his every move. To be the queen of his kingdom. The rush was incredible, unlike anything she had ever experienced. But in the echo of Georgina Sparks' words, Blair realized it wasn't solely about dominance, as she had previously believed. Instead, she began to understand that it encompassed something deeper: shared trust and understanding. Acceptance. That he was willing to give himself to her, to trust her with all that he was. He knelt, not in submission, but in reverence. It wasn't really about control, not with him; it was about reciprocity. Power wasn't wielded as a weapon; it was mutual empowerment. It was about freedom, not from constraints, but from the burdens they carried, and Georgina would never understand that.
Darling, are you really counting on Chuck Bass to be your knight in shining armor? The one who'll sweep in to rescue you from your demons?
Georgina had it all wrong. It was not a fairy tale she wanted, not a prince, not even a knight swooping in to save her from the big bad wolf. Not anymore. Her struggles, battles, and demons—they were hers to face, hers to conquer, to overcome. With him by her side if he chose, but still hers alone. No longer did she want to be her mother's perfect little doll. Screw that. Blair was tough, resilient, and intelligent, but she was also manipulative, judgmental, and stubborn. Unapologetic. Chuck had never shied away from her, just as she had never shied away from him. Never once had he wavered in his pride for who she truly was. There was no need for him to play the hero; in fact, she'd despise him if he did. He'd always stood beside her as an equal, never above or below, but right there, standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the world at the same height.
Are you in love with him, Blair?
Irrevocably so.
But as she looked at him, the realization, while somehow cathartic, also filled her with crippling fear. What if he didn't? What if he couldn't? What if his feelings weren't as deep as her own? What if?
What's the matter? Do you honestly think he loves you? We both know he can't.
Enough. That was enough.
"All right," she said. "I really need you to snap out of it."
However, he remained fixated on that damn spot on the floor. It was as if he was in another world altogether, his attention elsewhere.
Blair approached Chuck until she was standing between his legs. Leaning forward, she tilted her head slightly, her hands framing his face as she drew his gaze to meet hers. "Hey there," she murmured softly.
"Hi."
"Hi. How are you feeling?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you even understand a word I'm saying?"
"You're beautiful," he mumbled, his words out of place.
As if.
After the crazy day they'd been through, Blair couldn't even muster the energy to think about how awful she probably looked.
"This really isn't the time," Blair replied, her cheeks flushing despite herself. "You need to focus."
"No, seriously. You are beautiful."
"Chuck…"
"What? It's true."
"Let's save the sweet talk until you're a little more coherent, okay?"
"Who says I'm not coherent right now?"
Blair rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, but beneath the carefully constructed façade, a sweet warmth blossomed in her chest at his words, accompanied by the undeniable flutter of excitement that never failed to stir within her whenever she was near him.
Butterflies.
Chuck lifted his fingers to her cheek and brushed a strand of hair from her face. His touch was feathery and delicate as he began to play with it, twirling the curl between his fingertips.
"It's so soft," he marveled. "I love how soft it is. Look, touch it."
Blair chuckled softly. "I don't need to touch my own hair, Chuck."
"I love it so much."
"Almost as much as you love your checkered scarf?"
"Almost as much as I…"
Her breath caught in her throat. "Almost as much as you what?"
"Almost as much as I love a perfectly aged Scotch…" His voice trailed off for a moment. "Or a well-tailored suit."
Of course.
"Look where that perfectly aged Scotch got us."
"Don't insult the scotch, Waldorf."
He continued to run his fingers through her hair as if nothing else in the world mattered. His other hand rested on the back of her thigh, pulling her closer, further trapping her between his legs. A shiver ran down her spine, awakening a wave of pleasure she couldn't quite ignore. What she also couldn't ignore was his split lip, a reminder of the day's events, nor could she shake the image of him passed out earlier.
Worry and desire intertwined.
"How are you feeling?" she asked again, her worry winning the internal battle. "Are you feeling any better?"
"I'm feeling good," he said, releasing her hair. "Do you know why I'm feeling so good?"
Blair laughed. "Because you're extremely drunk?"
"I'm not."
"You are."
"If I was that drunk, I wouldn't even remember that you owe me a kiss."
"Don't be absurd."
"Well, unfortunate for you, I have an impeccable memory for debts owed."
"I wouldn't exactly describe your memory as impeccable right now," Blair replied, a playful glint in her eyes, though her knees weakened as Chuck stood up, closing the small distance between them. With each passing moment, their faces drew closer, causing her pulse to quicken. Her lips parted slightly as she moistened them with a flick of her tongue, her focus solely on his mouth.
"Waldorf," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
Blair swallowed hard, her heart racing at the sound of her surname in his lips. "Bass," she reciprocated.
Desire rippled through her, an intense molten heat igniting in the depths of her abdomen. Every nerve end tingled, sending electrical impulses at a rapid pace. Everywhere. The urge to lose herself in him threatened to overwhelm her.
"Can we go sit on the beach?" he asked.
Damn it.
He wasn't in complete control of his faculties, and Blair knew she had to keep it together. For both of their sakes. As much as she wanted to throw caution to the wind, they needed to talk first. Really talk. Blair couldn't do that when his body was more alcohol than water.
With great effort, Blair forced herself to step back. "No," she replied firmly. "We cannot."
"But I do enjoy the waves," he said.
"Of course you do. But I have no desire to fish you out of the water."
"Tousled and dripping wet. What a sight."
Incorrigible. He was incorrigible. But God, did she love it.
"More like a wet rat at this point," she said.
Chuck's smirk appeared slightly as he met her gaze, his eyes momentarily clouded with drunken amusement. "Ah, but the finest and most perfect wet rat I'll ever lay eyes on."
Blair slapped him on the shoulder.
"Someone as stunning as you would never look like that, and you damn well know it," he asserted as confidently as he could.
"Your judgment is clearly impaired."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm drunk. But you know the saying: only children and drunks speak the truth."
The stench of alcohol hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of sweat.
He sat again.
"Have you ever wondered if we're all just pawns in a larger scheme, destined to play out our roles regardless of our desires?" Chuck asked after a while.
Blair considered his question. "You know, maybe life hands us all different cards," she mused, "but what really matters is how we choose to play them. And I, for one, refuse to let anyone else dictate my fate. Not anymore."
She doubted he understood the depth of her words, but she spoke them anyway.
Without preamble, he posed another question. "Have you ever wondered if we're destined to repeat the same mistakes over and over again?"
"Only if we're foolish enough not to learn from them."
"Are we?" He looked lost in thought. "Foolish."
"Never again."
Then, as if switching gears completely, Chuck took her by surprise. "Have you ever wondered if penguins have knees?"
Blair burst into laughter, the sound dancing through the stillness of the room like a melody. "What's gotten into you?" she exclaimed, her head shaking in disbelief. "No, I have not."
He stared at her, deeply. As if recognizing every part of her soul.
"What?" she asked. "What's wrong?"
"You really are beautiful, Blair."
The sincerity took her breath away.
And, for once, she simply accepted Chuck's compliment, her usual defenses melting away. "You're not so bad yourself," she replied softly, a genuine smile on her lips.
Her concern returned when his eyes closed again. "Let's get you sobered up," she said, unable to ignore the risks of leaving him in bed like this. With no gag reflex, he could choke on his own vomit and suffocate if he passed out again. Years of taking care of Serena van der Woodsen had taught her that lesson well. "A quick shower might help you feel more like yourself again."
With practiced ease, Blair knelt beside him, carefully slipping off his summer shoes and setting them aside before taking her own sandals off with equal care. Every move was efficient as she worked to make them both more comfortable.
"Eager, are we?" he teased.
"Shut up."
Undeterred by her rebuff, Chuck leaned in closer. "You know you love it," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
"Focus," Blair insisted, rising to her feet, and reaching out to grasp his hand. "We have a task at hand."
"Didn't you know that multitasking is one of my many talents?"
"Says the guy who can't even stay on his feet without his face making friends with the floor," she urged, "Come on. You need to wake up, and this is the fastest way to do it."
"I just need to sleep it off."
"I am not leaving you like this."
"Are you always this determined?"
"You have no idea."
"Well, if you're offering to be my personal nurse, who am I to deny such tempting care?"
Blair led Chuck into the lavish en-suite bathroom off his bedroom, where the cool marble floors offered a refreshing contrast to the warmth of his room.
"You are quite small without heels," he remarked once inside. "So… petite."
The sound of running water filled her ears as she turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature until it was cold. Perhaps, she thought, a taste of reality would make him stop spewing nonsense. "Is there anything else you'd like to say about my appearance?"
Chuck swayed slightly on his feet, but Blair stepped closer and steadied him with a firm grip on his arm.
"If I could just tuck you in my pocket and keep you there forever, I would."
Blair raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to be romantic?"
"Is it working?"
"Maybe if it didn't sound like you were planning to kidnap me, I might consider the proposal."
With a playful nudge, she pushed him under the water's icy embrace. Instantly, Chuck recoiled, his drunken stupor momentarily interrupted by the shock of the cold. He let out a startled yelp, his body tensing as he tried to get used to the bitter temperature.
"Jesus, Waldorf," he protested.
"You deserve it."
Chuck grumbled under his breath, but he made no further move to protest as the water continued to pour over him, slowly sobering his intoxicated senses. Blair stood nearby, fully clothed, arms tightly crossed.
She couldn't just leave him alone, could she? What if he slipped or something?
He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his eyes. "If only I had known."
"What do you mean?"
"That I had to pass out drunk to get you into the shower with me."
Blair snorted. "You're in the shower all by yourself, in case you haven't noticed."
He shamelessly checked her out. "Though I had imagined you with much less clothing."
His remark seemed to remind him that he was also fully clothed, and without hesitation, he started to remove his pants and shirt.
"What… what are you doing?" Blair stuttered.
The fabric pooled at his feet as he tossed each piece with careless abandon. "Clothes are sticking, and it's disgusting. I'm not about to shower like this."
Her protests dissolved into a wordless murmur as she drank in the sight before her, tracing the lines of his body with a hunger that bordered on desperation. Well, at least he had the decorum to keep his boxers on, though Blair wasn't sure if that was for her benefit or his. After all, when had Chuck Bass ever cared about decency?
The day had been endless and for the first time, watching him, she felt like she was losing her goddamn mind. The primal, raw need returned in full force, and as the water slid down his skin, she wondered if it would always be like this: him, her, the magnetic, inevitable pull between them.
"The intention wasn't for you to shower, just to wake up," Blair cleared her throat, her voice betraying her.
"I was already woken up," he retorted. "And just so you know, that plan of yours had more holes than one of dear Humphrey's unfinished novels."
Blair was practically dripping with want, and it took every ounce of her willpower to stop herself from jumping at him. Every moment they had shared, whether in her bed or his, the playful teasing, the tender and not so tender touches, the realization of her feelings, they were all building up, and her body was practically begging for release. Blair didn't want to hold back any longer, but she had to. They needed to have a serious conversation, and it was impossible to focus when he looked so irresistible. When all rational thought seemed to flee from her mind.
"Stay here," she instructed. "I'll be right back."
Before Blair could step away, Chuck's arm wrapped around her, pulling her into the spray of water with him. "You're not going anywhere."
"Chuck..." Blair's grip on his arm tightened as she was dragged into the cold water, her clothes quickly becoming soaked. "Stop," she admonished, trying to keep her composure even as her body went wild at the contact. "We can't do this."
"Says who?"
"Me."
"You want it as much as I do."
"No."
"I don't believe you."
"You don't know what you're doing."
"I know exactly what I'm doing."
Why resist? Why try to fight it? What was the point anyway? Blair wanted it, Chuck wanted it; that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Giving in to your desires had never hurt anyone before. Well, maybe it had, but Blair was past the point of caring. Just one kiss. Just momentarily, then she would go back to her original plan. She promised herself.
Blair kissed him then, as if the floodgates had finally burst open after years of restraint, despite having been together that very morning. And he kissed her back just as eagerly, making the blood in her veins instantly boil. Her hands instinctively found their way to his shoulders as she stood on tiptoes, greedily tracing the nape of his neck and leaving faint marks with her nails. She pressed herself against him. Hard. Just before he slipped his tongue into her mouth, Chuck teased her lower lip, drawing forth a moan from deep inside her.
That was it, right? It was enough. They could stop now.
With a low growl, Chuck yanked off her mini skirt, letting it drop to the floor. He kicked it away with one foot before pressing their hips together once more, grinding against her in an absolutely delicious way that made her forget there was even a plan in the first place. To feel such an obvious sign of need from him was utterly intoxicating.
Fuck.
She was beyond saving.
The water continued to pour between them, its icy droplets mingling with the heat of their touches. The cold was too harsh, too jarring, so she pulled away from Chuck to raise the temperature to a soothing warmth. He brushed her hair aside and dropped his lips to her shoulder, running his palms up and down her back.
Blair needed more of him. Needed it like she needed oxygen.
She raised her arms, silently urging him to remove her soaked blouse, and he did, his hands lingering on her skin as he peeled away the fabric. The bra followed suit, its clasp undone. Chuck pulled back slightly to take her in, his eyes saying what words could not convey. Without hesitation, she pounced on him, her lips crashing against his in a desperate kiss that nearly knocked them both over. Blair could feel his entire body against hers, inch by inch. From the warmth of his chest against her breasts to the subtle flexing of his muscles against her abdomen.
Guiding his hand beneath the waistband of her panties, she gasped at the first brush of his fingers against her skin. Waves of pleasure surged through her body as he teased her entrance, sending her senses into overdrive. A loud moan escaped her lips, which he muffled by kissing her harder. Lost in the moment, Blair couldn't help but bite down on his lower lip, consumed by desire.
However, a small yelp from him snapped her back to reality.
"Ow," he winced.
"What?" she asked, breathless.
His split lip had reopened, and Blair froze, the memory of the last few hours hitting her like a bucket of cold water.
"I… I'm sorry," Blair stammered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the shower.
He didn't let her go, his hand resting gently but firmly on her waist.
"Hey, 'I'm sorry' are two words you never have to say to me," he said. "Especially not for this."
"I should have known better," she insisted.
"It's not your fault."
"But—"
"It's not."
"You scared me to death today."
"It's nothing I can't handle. I've been through worse."
"That's not healthy. I hate seeing you put yourself in danger every time things go south."
"I think we're beyond just 'things going south' now," he admitted somberly.
"It wasn't your fault either."
His expression changed completely. "It was, Blair. All of it."
If she had taken twenty steps forward, it now felt like she was being pulled fifty steps back.
"If I hadn't…" he interrupted before she could articulate her thoughts.
What did he mean by that?
"If you hadn't what?" Her voice rose. "Kissed me? Touched me? Wanted me? What shouldn't you have done, Chuck? Because, last time I checked, I wanted you to do all those things. We both did."
"You know it's not that simple," he countered.
"It is."
"Why do you care so much?"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because I'm me. I'm Chuck Bass. Why should anyone bother caring about me when not even my own father does?"
"A lot of people care about you. Including me."
"Why?"
"Because I…" But she couldn't bring herself to say the words aloud, the fear of rejection clawing at her insides. "You know why."
"I really don't."
"Because I do, Chuck. Whether you like it or not."
He didn't say anything back.
With the magic of the moment gone, Blair cupped his chin, tilting his head up to examine him closely. "Let's get out of here so I can take care of this."
Once Chuck's lip was taken care of, he retired to bed while she retreated to the shower to immerse herself once more in the cascade of water. Every drop that caressed her skin reignited the memory of his touch and sent shivers down her spine. Closing her eyes, Blair fought to steady her racing heartbeat, the echo of their intimacy still fresh in her mind. They had been so close, and the mere thought of it left her breathless.
Much to her dismay, she found herself reaching for Chuck's shampoo, the familiar scent enveloping her as she lathered her hair. With each rinse, she hoped to wash away the desire that consumed her, finding solace in the simple act of cleaning up.
Blair reached for a towel and gently patted her hair dry, not wanting to go to bed with wet hair. The soft cotton absorbed the moisture, leaving her hair slightly damp but manageable.
Stepping out of the shower, Blair wrapped herself in his robe, the soft fabric a source of comfort against her skin. Had it not been for her lack of willpower, the night might have taken them to a place far removed from the present. Did she regret any of it? No, not really. It wasn't the potential fulfillment that unsettled her, but rather the reality of its absence.
Blair walked over to Chuck's closet and picked out a crisp white shirt to replace the robe. As she fastened the buttons one by one, she watched Chuck lying on the bed with his eyes closed, his troubled expression weighing on her heart.
With a heavy sigh, she sank back into the soft pillows, exhaustion pulling at her limbs. Tomorrow would be another day. They would talk things out, and everything would be fine. Everything would fall back into place. But for now, in the silence of the night, all that mattered was the steady rise and fall of his chest as she nestled against him.
Little did she know, as she drifted off to sleep, that come morning, Chuck would be gone.
Author's Note:
I really wanted to press pause on all the drama, leave the blondes on the boat, and focus on our two, so I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you so much for all the sweet words about this story. When I wrote the very first chapter, I never thought I'd even post it or that anyone would read it, so the support really means a lot and makes me want to keep writing.