Will Not Remember, Cannot Forget

First rule of combat? Use concealment. An enemy cannot block an attack they don’t see coming.

Really convenient then that he has an invitation to her house for this very night. If he just shows up like he is none the wiser, she will never suspect that he has heard all about that kiss. The one he had expressly forbidden her to have. Since that small fact seems to have slipped her mind, she needs a refresher on the terms of their deal. He agreed to keep mum about their tryst if, and only if, she stayed the fuck away from Nathaniel. So unless she wants her dirty little secret broadcast to everyone, any further physical intimacy with him is absolutely unacceptable. And what better place to remind her of this than her own residence, surrounded by the very people she doesn’t want to know?

Georgina would be so proud.

The rest of the school day he studiously shuns the common areas, and hurries to his limo as soon as the final bell rings. Wouldn’t do to bump into Blair early and ruin the element of surprise. He supposes if he did run into her, he could just act like he was still clueless, but as he has been fuming since the lunch time reveal, the likelihood that he could keep his contempt under wraps if they met is minimal. Best not risk tipping her off prematurely.

Like by arriving on time for her study session, for example. That would appear too eager, and could alert the frigid bitch that something was up. So even though his limo starts circling her building at 6:45, he doesn’t allow himself to climb out until well past 7:30. A half hour is appropriately late he decides, and as he strolls inside, he fixes a suitably bored expression on his face. The official reason behind this social gathering is so they can write their essays after all, and he must play the part, even if he had already paid Nelly Yuki to do it for him.

But as he exits the elevator and steps into the Waldorf penthouse, it appears nobody actually intends to work on those damn papers. Music is blaring, alcohol is flowing, and there is a poker game already in progress. Seems academic punishment is just another excuse to party, and usually that would be just fine with him, but tonight he has objectives more pressing than getting drunk and laid.

Although if a certain someone begged…

Helping himself to a martini from the refreshment table Dorota had undoubtedly arranged, Chuck joins some of Queen B’s minions, reclining on the chaise near them, tuning out their chatter about some guy from Cornell’s ethics program. He could care less, but he nods occasionally as if listening while his gaze smolders for a glimpse of chestnut curls.

Finally, he spots her, the ever consummate hostess, flitting from group to group with mimosas, but she never draws close enough for him to catch her eye. Perhaps she’s avoiding him this evening much like he avoided her this afternoon. But if ignoring him is her goal, it is not going to be successful very long. He has a definite way of capture her attention.

Reaching casually into his suit coat, he pulls out an old fashioned skeleton key suspended upon a burgundy ribbon. He holds it up, dangles it between his fingers, and waits patiently for her to see it. Once she does, he’s beyond confident she’ll recognize what it is instantly. After all, how many times in the past had Serena used this very means to sneak them into the school pool at her behest?

Sure enough, minutes later when Blair arrives to set down another tray of drinks, she glances at Chuck and her chocolate orbs widen in shock. “I can’t believe you brought that here!” she hisses, snatching the golden key from his grasp. “It’s evidence. Give it to me.”

He suppresses the smirk that tugs at his mouth as she hides the key within her hand and stalks towards the staircase. Exactly according to plan. Now he just has to follow her.

Second rule of combat? Move into a position of advantage. It forces the enemy to be on the defensive, and if one is defending, one cannot attack.

Confronting Blair in her room will take her off guard, and the memories of all the things they have done together in her very bed will shift the odds in his favor. Plus, it allows him to blackmail her covertly, away from the inquisitive stares of their peers. He does his best work under the radar. Yet another trait he picked up from the hell spawn Georgina.

Whore.

Watching Blair ascend the stairs, admiring the sway of her hips and the view of her legs in the skirt that barely manages to cover her ass, Chuck prepares to sneak after her. Before he can rise, however, his objective is thwarted by Serena’s flavor of the month.

“Chuck, you need to tell the truth,” Dan orders, as if he is entitled to voice his opinion.

“Whatever happened to don’t speak until spoken to?” Chuck sneers.

Why is this Brooklyn baggage even here? He knows Blair would not have invited him. Best friend’s boyfriend or not, she loathes the loser almost as much as Chuck does. Serena must have told the judgmental, self-righteous prick to come.

Great.

“I just saw you with that key,” Dan accuses. “I know you had it at the party.”

Chuck squints at the insinuation, annoyed at having to deal with this sucker punching asshole instead of heading upstairs in Blair’s wake immediately. “Poor little Humphrey Dumpty,” he sighs, putting his martini glass down upon the floor. “Look, let me clarify something for you. Regardless of who you’re currently sleeping with, you and I come from different worlds,” he explains patronizingly.

If only they had remained in different worlds, he thinks. But no. He was already forced to share classes with the charity case, and then Serena decided to inflict the fucker upon them by dating him. Hopefully her little whim of rebellion will revert back to its previous form soon. Chuck liked her better before, when she knew not to develop an attachment for the guy she was slumming with. Seriously, was she so vapid that she thought it could work out between them? They had nothing in common, and she should be aiming much higher.

Sardonically, Chuck continues, “In my world, if I’m suspended or expelled, a wing is donated in the Bass name.”

“That sounds like quite a world,” Dan mutters, disapproving as always.

Hearing the censure in the other boy’s tone, Chuck’s lips twist in derision. “Well it’s not perfect, I’ll admit. But one thing it does offer in spades is security,” he gloats. “My family can take care of me. What do the Humphreys have to offer? Used Metro cards? Your dad’s cassingle?”

Love.

It springs unbidden to his mind, accompanied by a flash of… envy? No, surely not. Chuck Bass does not covet the life of Dan Humphrey. He is nothing but white trash, a lower class nobody. He has no connections, no money, no power. And yet…

Damn it, he has a family. A real family. The kind one sees on television where the parents actually care where the kids are and sometimes they eat meals together. Where the fathers are involved, and the mothers are alive, and the children… the children are safe in the knowledge that they are loved, that Mom and Dad are proud of them, and that no matter what happens, those facts won’t ever change.

Lucky bastard.

Chuck stands, glowering at Dan, hating himself for this sudden wave of jealousy. “And in case you were wondering, you narc,” he taunts, “I only took the key from the party to hide it so we didn’t all get blamed.” His volume dips, becoming a menacing whisper. “Including you.”

Without further comment, Chuck walks away, praying that the slight delay had not cost him the chance to join Blair before she leaves her room. But as he rounds the corner, he sees he’s too late. There she is, already descending the staircase.

His resentment of Humphrey rises. He hadn’t wanted to talk to him in the first place, and now the Brooklyn hypocrite has ruined his opportunity to corner the ice queen. Now the situation is less than ideal. He is going to have to improvise, and there will be potential witnesses.

Goddamn it.

Third rule of combat? Attack.

As Blair reaches the bottom of the steps, Chuck snatches her wrist, turning her around.

“Hey! Let go of me Bass,” she cries, jerking her arm loose.

“Drop your Archibald habit first,” he demands.

She scoffs, “You know I already have.”

The audacity of that statement causes his teeth to clench. “Really? A kiss does sort of send the wrong signal,” he jeers, cutting her off when she tries to interrupt. “Let’s not waste time denying.”

“You know what?” she glares, her chin lifting defiantly. “I’m tired of this. Go ahead and tell him.”

Chuck arches a brow, calling her bluff, glancing surreptitiously towards the unexpected movement on the edge of his vision. It’s a young woman. Someone he doesn’t know, although she looks vaguely familiar. But she has a video camera, and it is trained on them. “Really?” he drawls, a scheme quickly taking shape in his brain. “You want me to tell him how you slept with me and then faked your virginity for him?”

Blair’s mouth briefly compresses into an outraged line. “I’ll just tell him you’re lying,” she threatens with a smug smile. “And who do you think he’ll believe? You, who bangs anything in his field of vision? Or me, his pure and honest girlfriend of many years?”

He smirks, risking another peek sideways. The chick is still there, camcorder still rolling. “I know he’ll believe me,” he brags.

“Why?”

“I have proof,” he declares, indicating their mystery movie maker with a flourish. “Good eye, docu-girl,” he says, congratulating her while sticking his palm out expectantly. “I’ll take the tape now.”

“You knew she was watching?” Blair scowls at him, before turning her attention to the spy. “This is my house. That tape belongs to me.”

“Actually, this is my footage,” the girl points out, breezing past them, escaping into the foyer. “And thanks to both of you, I think I got a new angle on my subject.”

Realizing that she intends to leave, Chuck grabs her elbow. “If you think I’m going to let you walk out of here with that tape you’re crazy.”

“Let go of me!” she shouts, tugging free.

Suddenly Dan is there by her side, protectively shoving his palm into Chuck’s chest, forcing him back. “Hey!” Serena’s boy toy cautions, “Last time I checked, I still owe you a black eye, so unless this is you coming to claim it, stay away from her.”

Then the two of them are gone, Blair and Chuck left standing gaping after them in shock.

Holy shit.

That bitch has evidence she can use against him. Against them. Irrefutable confirmation of what they have done. And although he desires to have their relationship become public, he would rather it be on his terms. Not on the whim of some Salvation Army associate of Dan Humphrey. This is bad. Proof like that can, and will, come back to bite one in the ass. It leads to intimidation, coercion, extortion. He fully understands that. After all, he had used similar means to orchestrate a ceasefire with Georgina, and currently employed comparable tactics in his manipulation of the unwilling Waldorf.

Fuck!

“Look what you did!” Blair snarls, stabbing him in the stomach with a fingernail.

He grimaces, rubbing the spot. “Still playing the innocent victim I see.”

“I am the victim here!” she exclaims. “This is your fault entirely.”

“Don’t get your La Perlas in a bunch,” he admonishes, touching her shoulder in an attempt to be soothing. “We’ll get the tape back.”

She bristles at the contact, shrugging his caress off. “There is no we, and I’ll get it from her myself. I don’t need your help.”

His jaw tightens in response. “Good, because I wasn’t offering it,” he grinds out. “It would interfere with savoring the pleasure of rubbing your face in my victory.”

“This isn’t a competition Chuck.”

“Yes it is,” he growls. “You just made it one.” Without warning, he reaches out to stroke her cheek. His thumb grazes the fullness of her lower lip, and her eyelids flutter at the sensation. “May the best man win,” he snorts, removing his hand abruptly.

She blinks, momentarily unsettled by his predatory grin. Then she straightens, her face transforming into a mask of disdain. “We’ll see about that,” she huffs, storming away.

He stares at her retreating form for a second before returning to the living room, searching visually for a halo of golden hair amongst the crowd. Rapidly locating her, Chuck weaves around people to stand by Serena’s side. “Humphrey’s boho brunette?” he inquires. “What’s her name?”

“Dan’s friend?” Serena asks, her brow furrowed in suspicion. “Chuck, leave her – ”

“What. Is. Her. Name?” he repeats softly, clearly enunciating each syllable, his anger all the more pronounced for it.

Under the force of his gaze, Serena wilts. “Vanessa,” she swallows weakly. “Vanessa Abrams.”

“Thank you.” He stalks off, his cell already halfway to his ear when the blonde grabs his opposite wrist, stopping him.

“Chuck, wait! Whatever she’s done, I don’t think…”

He looks at her slowly, the expression on his face making her words fade into nothing. His dark eyes glare at her slim fingers upon his arm until she removes them. Then he turns away, stepping into the elevator, pressing #3 on his speed dial before the doors even close. “I need everything you can find on Vanessa Abrams.”