Will Not Remember, Cannot Forget

6:15

With a grimace, he pulls the cuff of his blue suit back over his watch. Almost time for the family supper and he is even now making out with Serena. Chuck had seen them dashing up the steps, pawing one another before they ever made it into her bedroom. It’s only natural he supposes as the Brooklyn baggage had been gone for spring break and Serena had been denied his disgusting attentions, but she could do so much better and the thought of them getting hot and heavy kind of turns his stomach. But since the schmuck is obviously still going to be here in fifteen minutes, he may as well stay for dinner. Serena would like that.

“Hey,” Chuck says, sticking his head into the kitchen. “Sorry for the last minute change, but there’s going to be six at dinner this evening instead of five, so please adjust accordingly.”

Without waiting for an answer, he strolls towards the stairs. Best not to have Lily go up to fetch Serena only to discover her daughter engaged in a grope fest with the lowlife. That would probably not go over too well.

Padding down the hallway, he rolls his eyes when he sees Serena’s door hanging wide open. She really needs to learn the finer arts of discretion. Especially if she’s going to be getting horizontal with Humphrey, as from the look of things it appears they are close to doing on her bed.

“Dan,” Chuck greets loudly as he leans against the doorframe, trying not to let his sheer dislike of the guy penetrate his tone. The loser is dating his sister, and he seems to make her happy, so he will be civil to the asshole, at least until Serena comes to her senses.

“Chuck,” Dan acknowledges a bit chagrinned, sliding over so he isn’t exactly straddling the blonde. “How are you?”

“Excellent,” Chuck replies, pleased that he is able to make polite small talk with the charity case. “Enjoying having a family around.”

Rolling onto her stomach, Serena glares at him in exasperation. “Can you just get it over with Chuck?” she snaps, not understanding what a major concession him referring to her boyfriend by his first name actually is or how different their brief conversation had been as opposed to every other time they have spoken. “Say whatever pervy thing you’re going to say and just leave.”

“The wedding caterer is presenting a tasting to the family,” Chuck explains. “I was coming to call you down for dinner.”

“Okay, I’ll take off then,” Dan mumbles, starting to rise from the mattress.

“No need,” Chuck assures him. “I already asked the staff to set a place for you.” At their shocked silence, he turns and walks from the room, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. See? He can be a good brother as well as an annoying one. Maybe he should even make a game of it, so that Serena is constantly wary of what he is going to do. That has a lot of possibilities. It would also be a ton of fun.

Having siblings is beyond awesome.

They’re in the middle of the dinner, Chuck heavily favoring the chestnut pappardelle over the foie gras as it is a bit too rich and idiotic Humphrey mispronouncing the name of every other entrée, when a gift arrives for Serena.

“Who’s it from?” Eric asks as she gently shakes the silver wrapped box with the golden ribbon.

“I don’t know,” she singsongs playfully. “But it says open immediately.” She turns to Dan, clearly believing it is from him although from his body language alone Chuck can tell it is not. “Do I have to refrigerate it?”

Dan shakes his head helplessly. “No, it’s not from me,” he admits. “I don’t know.”

Nonplussed, Serena begins opening the present, but Lily protests. “Oh don’t put your dirty package on the table,” she fusses.

“If I had a dime for every time I heard that…” Chuck smarms under his breath to Eric, causing the boy to choke back a snort.

“That’s enough, Chuck,” Bart warns, giving him a hard look.

Instantly, Chuck wipes the smirk off his face and shifts uncomfortably under Bart’s stare. He should have known better than to say anything. His father always did have incredible hearing.

Then Serena lifts the lid of the box, pushes back the tissue paper lining, and her distraught exclamation draws Bart’s focus away from Chuck.

“Porn and handcuffs?” she cries, holding up the items in disbelief. “Really?”

“Oh my,” Lily gasps.

Dan gulps, his eyes huge. “Wow.”

Chuck is still figuring out an appropriate response when Serena thrusts the offending gift at him, her expression icy. “This is low Chuck. Even for you!” she hisses.

“What?” he calls after her as she stomps from the parlor. “I didn’t send this.” He tosses the package back onto the coffee table.

Why the hell did she assume he would he send something so tasteless? Then his lips twitch slightly as he muses that it is something he might do just to see her reaction. But not in front of the parents! That’s a bit crass even for him.

A pregnant pause descends, and Dan eventually clears his throat. “Well if you’ll excuse me,” he apologizes as he rises to follow his girlfriend.

“Uh, if you could…” Lily interrupts his exit, gesturing to the discarded present.

Comprehending her near silent request, Dan’s face lights up. “Oh yeah. My pleasure,” he says, quickly grabbing the box. Then a flush colors his cheeks. “Uh… It’s not… That’s not…” he stammers, realizing what his eagerness had suggested. “It’s uh… It’s trash. I’ll throw it out.”

Chewing thoughtfully, Chuck watches him go wondering who would send something like that to Serena. She is too generous with her affections and overly friendly with everyone. Perhaps some poor sap got the wrong idea, thinking she liked him. When he found out otherwise and got rejected, he was undoubtedly pissed and she probably doesn’t even remember blowing the unfortunate bastard off! Serves her right that the pathetic would-be Romeo had sent her an embarrassing present. It’s a bit hilarious actually. Maybe he should consider doing the same to a certain chestnut haired beauty…

His heart constricts with the thought, and he hastily excuses himself from the remainder of dinner, needing to be alone. He’d hoped that Blair might have approached him that afternoon to ask about the card he’d slipped into her locker, but that had been a foolish wish. He hadn’t signed it of course, but he knew he didn’t need to for her to know it was from him. Blair would recognize his handwriting, and maybe it would be the first step towards... well, towards something other than what they are now. But in the end, all he’d gotten for his effort was the shredded remains of the thing left unceremoniously with Arthur after school.

Bitch.

Later that evening, Chuck is lying on top of his covers, staring at the ceiling, still fully dressed, wishing he could get his memories of Blair to leave him alone long enough so he could sleep when a familiar knock occurs on his door.

“It’s okay to open it, Eric,” he mutters, sitting up.

“Good,” the blonde whispers, stepping inside. “I was hoping you’d be up.”

“And so I am. Close the door.”

Pulling the door shut behind him, Eric turns around and plops onto the floor in his pajamas. “No video games tonight?”

“No,” Chuck shrugs. “Just… thoughts.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t really want to play anyways.”

“Oh? Then why’d you drop in? Something keeping you up as well?”

“Not something,” Eric breathes. “Someone.”

That catches Chuck’s interest. “You got a crush?”

The younger boy blushes slightly. “It’s a little more than that.”

“Ah,” Chuck grins. “So you’re seeing a girl then?”

“Uh… sort of,” Eric dodges.

“Sort of?” Chuck repeats undeterred, arching one brow quizzically.

Eric looks at him for a long moment, and then rotates his face away. “Yeah,” he admits finally. “I guess you could say that I’m sort of seeing someone.”

Chuck peers at the back of Eric’s head, brain racing, attempting to dissect this conversation, searching for clues. Dealing with Georgina had taught him to spot the signs people inadvertently give away when they are trying to hide something, and right now Eric’s behavior is definitely raising the warning flags. The boy is practically exuding anxiety. Why is he so freaked?

Eric sighs into the tense silence, and suddenly he blurts, “Chuck, have you ever had a secret that was extremely important, but you were terrified to tell anyone because they might look at you differently if they knew?”

Okay, so he had been reading the blonde correctly. Now to tread carefully and seek more information.

“Yeah,” Chuck replies with practiced nonchalance, remembering the evil whore’s words to him after she’d stolen his virginity.

“The little prince isn’t so charming anymore,” she had said that awful night. “He’s dirty. Soiled. She’d never look at you again if she knew.”

“So…” Eric continues. “What did you do?”

Chuck swallows. “I didn’t tell,” he answers honestly.

“Oh.” Such a despairing sound.

“But I wish I had,” Chuck adds quickly, realizing for the first time that it is true. If he had told immediately, maybe the hell spawn would not have been able to manipulate him the way she had. At the very least, he would have had more options. Keeping what happened a secret had only trapped him into a life he had not wanted.

Eric leans back against the foot of the bed, titling his chin up so he can meet Chuck’s gaze. “You still could,” he points out.

“No. No, I lost my shot,” Chuck mumbles bitterly, ruffling Eric’s wavy hair. “It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late, Chuck.”

He shakes his head. “Believe me it is. Five years is a little too long to wait to spring out this sort of confession.”

“Five…?” Eric blinks in confusion. “So this isn’t about Blair and Nate then?”

“Not really, no,” Chuck snorts, narrowing his eyes at the younger boy, sensing how deftly Eric had maneuvered their discussion away from himself. “So what’s your secret?” he inquires.

At once, Eric turns away, drawing his knees up to his chest, his shoulders hunching.

Okay. That was obviously too direct. Maybe a more circuitous route would have been better.

“This person you’re seeing?” Chuck says, trying again, deciding humor may just be the best option in the circumstances, given what he suspects. “It isn’t your best friend’s girlfriend, is it?”

Eric suppresses a snicker. “No definitely not.”

“Good,” Chuck nods faux-serious. “Because I can tell you from experience that that doesn’t work out too well.”

“Right. I imagine not.”

“Do you know what’s really sad though?” Chuck states somberly. “I convinced myself that just maybe it’d all turn out okay somehow in the end.”

“Well, you didn’t know – ”

“But that’s the thing. I did know! I knew it was a bad idea the whole time and I just didn’t care,” Chuck laughs, and his tone lacks all mirth. “I did it anyway. I was attracted to Blair. I knew I shouldn’t be. She was dating Nate, and she kept giving me plenty of reasons not to like her, but I just couldn’t stop. I kept seeing sides of her I didn’t know were there and getting drawn in deeper and deeper and it all just got way out of hand until I…” His words fade into nothing.

“Slept with her?” Eric prompts after a while.

“Fell in love with her,” Chuck whispers, closing his eyes as he finally admits it out loud and the pain of losing her grips his heart even stronger with the revelation. At Eric’s shocked intake of breath, he smiles sadly. “Pretty funny, huh?”

There is a long pause before Eric responds. “I don’t think so,” he eventually says. “Blair can be…”

“A bitch?”

Eric coughs in what is certainly an attempt to cover a snort. “I was going to say difficult.”

“You’re quite tactful, you know that?”

“I try,” the younger boy acknowledges. “But no, seriously I get that Blair can be a… pain sometimes, but she can also be pretty cool too. She…” His voice trails off in deliberation. Then he abruptly announces, “She helped break me out of the Ostroff Center once.”

“What?” Chuck sputters. “You were in the Ostroff Center?”

“Yeah,” Eric sighs. “After my…” He holds up a wrist, gesturing at the scar. “Anyway,” he continues without preamble. “Blair came in pretending to be having a Britney Spears meltdown to distract the front desk so Jenny could sneak me out. It was really nice of her. I hated it in there, and being free, even for a little while was worth it.”

Hesitantly, Chuck reaches down to touch Eric’s arm in a show of sympathy. “I bet.”

“So I can understand why you care for Blair,” Eric reaffirms, meeting Chuck’s gaze again. “She may act one way most of the time, but every now and then she’ll surprise you. It’s almost like she’s two different people.”

“Yes, that’s it precisely.”

“But does she know how you feel about her?” the blonde asks.

“Well she should, I mean – ” Chuck stops, his brow furrowing in sudden comprehension. “Since when did this conversation become all about me? I’m the older brother here. I’m supposed to be the one giving advice.”

“Sorry,” Eric smirks, rising to pad towards the door. “Force of habit.”

“I never would have guessed,” Chuck scowls, thinking that his brother is rather a clever little bastard.

“Have you seen my mom and my sister?” Eric teases. “They don’t exactly know how to think things through in advance, so I’ve had to be the responsible one.”

“Well maybe it’s time to let someone else look out for you for a change,” Chuck retorts.

“Touché. Night Chuck.”

“Night.” The door starts to shut, but Chuck speaks again before it closes all the way. “Eric?”

“Yeah?”

Staring into those trusting brown eyes, Chuck decides to throw caution to the wind. “Are you gay?” he says bluntly.

Eric pales. “What? No!” he denies.

“Okay. I just thought – ”

“Well you thought wrong!” Eric snaps, cutting him off.

“Fine.”

With an exasperated noise, Eric slams the door behind him.

Fuck.

Springing off his bed, Chuck races to open the door. “But if you were,” he calls out softly to Eric’s retreating form. “If you were, I wouldn’t care.”

Eric halts, but does not turn around. “Chuck, I…” After a second, his shoulders relax. “Thanks.”

“There’s no need,” Chuck assures him. “But if you wanted to play Halo tomorrow, I think I may have enough time in my schedule to kick your ass.”

“In your dreams!” Eric boasts, flashing Chuck a grin that makes his own taut muscles ease.

“Goodnight Eric.”

“Ditto.”

The next morning, another envelope arrives addressed to Serena. Since the blonde had already left, Chuck intercepts the gift so that their parents do not catch sight of it. After breakfast, while waiting for the limo to pull up to the curb to take them to Saint Jude’s, Chuck surreptitiously hands it over to Eric. “Here.”

The younger boy squints at the oversized card. “What’s this?”

“Came for Serena,” Chuck replies. “I thought she might want to open it outside the house. Just in case. Make sure she gets it.”

“Why don’t you just give it to her yourself?” Eric inquires.

“I’m pretty sure Serena wants me to stay away from her right now,” Chuck drawls.

“But why?”

“Serena still thinks I’m responsible for yesterday’s undesired gift, so call it a hunch and besides – Crap! There’s Bart!” Chuck hisses as he sees his father descending the steps and heading their way. “Hide it! Hurry!”

Hastily, Eric shoves the envelope into his bag moments before Bart joins them on the sidewalk.

“Hello again boys,” Bart deadpans. “I need the limo after it drops you off this morning, so I thought I’d accompany you to save time.”

On the short drive, Bart buries himself in a newspaper while Chuck discusses the possibilities for the upcoming bachelor party. It will be his last, not to mention only, chance to have a boy’s night out with his father, and Chuck wants nothing more than to include Eric in the festivities. “I say we take the jet to Croatia where young Eric here can exploit the lesser age of consent,” he suggests.

Eric blinks. “I’m invited to the bachelor party?”

“Brother please,” Chuck scoffs. Of course Eric is invited! He is going to be a Bass in everything but name, and maybe even that might be changed if his father decided to adopt Lily’s kids. “Then head west to Monte Carlo for some all-night cards at Metropole,” Chuck resumes. “Then swing by Giza just to watch the sun come up over the pyramids. What do you think Father?”

Bart finally looks up from the business section. “I think we’re here.”

“Uh… See you at home Bart,” Eric mutters as he climbs out of the limo.

Chuck starts to follow, but Bart stops him. “Chuck will catch up in a minute,” the elder Bass tells Eric. He waits until the blonde closes the door before turning to face his son. “You almost ruined things between me and Lily once before. I’m not going to let that happen again.”

“What are you talking about?”

Bart’s expression hardens. “I’m talking about that vulgar stunt you pulled at dinner.”

“I didn’t send Serena that package,” Chuck scowls. “And quite frankly, her violated Virgin Mary act is getting pretty old.”

“I thought making you my best man would help,” his father admits.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Chuck asks, his stomach clenching. Had Bart not really wanted him as his best man? Had it just been a ploy of some kind?

“Inspire you to value my happiness above your own childish agenda,” Bart growls.

Chuck looks down from his father’s condemning gaze. What is the point denying it? Bart obviously doesn’t think his son is capable of being blameless, so why bother? He wouldn’t believe the truth anyway.

“Things seem to be working out for you at that club Victrola,” Bart continues. “I’m thinking you might like me to invest more in the place, so you can have more control.” He raises one brow. “In exchange for good behavior, of course.”

“You’re bribing me,” Chuck states. It isn’t a question.

“So we have a deal then,” his father declares. Also not a question.

Without answering, Chuck gets out of the limo.

Judgmental asshole.

Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? Oh wait. That’s right. That applies to other people. People who are not Chuck Bass! He isn’t even worthy of the benefit of the doubt! He is automatically convicted of every little damn thing he is accused of!

He is scrawling in his notebook all the things he wishes he could say to his father but does not have the guts to utter when Serena arrives at school. She barely makes it to the steps before a delivery guy stops her as she tries to drift around his hand truck stacked high with wooden crates. Chuck watches curiously until she turns to give him a death glare across the courtyard, throwing her hands up in vexation as she stalks past.

What the hell was that about?

Then suddenly the other students are opening the cases she had left behind, pulling out bottle after bottle of champagne, popping the corks, sending cascades of sparkling bubbly spurting into the air.

Holy shit.

Serena’s mystery admirer must have sent her another inappropriate token of his affection. So of course, of course she is blaming Chuck! How typical.

Fucking bitch.

When school lets out, Chuck goes over to a classmate’s house for a wii tennis tournament, inviting Eric to tag along. The younger boy does for a while, but has to leave for an appointment so Chuck decides to leave then too. He heads home and scarcely makes it to his room to change out of his uniform before his father is barging in.

“Charles,” Bart begins, and Chuck can already tell he is in deep shit because that is usually the only time his father calls him by his actual name and not his nickname. “I had hoped our discussion this morning would have dissuaded you from another of these inane pranks but I see now that more decisive measures need to be taken for you to realize how serious I consider your actions.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I cannot have you jeopardizing my relationship with Lily,” his father explains. “And harassing her children definitely qualifies as jeopardizing.”

“Harassing?” Chuck snorts incredulous. “What? I haven’t done – ”

“Save it Chuck,” Bart snarls. “Serena already told me all about the champagne incident at school today. I am quite disappointed in your behavior and it is just lucky she didn’t get expelled because of this petty trick coming so soon after her own swimming pool fiasco, but thankfully Lily was able to calm the headmistress down.”

“But I – ”

“Will be moving back into your old suite,” Bart announces abruptly, cutting him off. “Effective immediately.”

With that, his father walks from the room, ending all further protests.

For a long moment, Chuck just stands there in astonishment. His father, his own father had kicked him out! Had chosen Lily’s children over him! Had basically said they were more important than his own flesh and blood!

What the fuck!

Livid, Chuck flings clothes into his suitcases, not caring what he takes as he can get out of this room as soon as possible. He never wants to set foot in it again. He’d never liked it in the first place, had never felt comfortable enough to relax in it, and now it certainly is never going to feel like home. It’s going to always be the location where his father had chosen to side with strangers over his son.


Leaving various items scattered across the carpet, Chuck phones Arthur to bring around the limo and drags his bags towards the stairwell. As he reaches the top, Serena confronts him.


“What the hell is your problem?” she snaps.

“Specify the context,” he grinds out.

She shoves something into his chest then, and he barely manages to catch it before it drops to the floor. Glancing at the item cradled in his palm, he squints in confusion. It’s a baggie of cocaine.

“You disgust me Chuck!” she spits. “How dare you involve Eric in something like this! No wonder you’re friendless, and girlfriendless. Even your own father expects the worst from you!”

His jaw tightens at the truth so evident in that statement. “Well you saw to that.”

“Listen,” she orders. “If we’re going to exist under the same roof, I am laying down some house rules.”

“No need princess,” he scowls. “Bart already kicked me out.”

“What?”

“I’m moving back to my suite. Bart thought it best if the family bonded without me for a while,” he sneers before stomping down the steps and into the waiting limo.

Once he’s back in his old suite, he tosses his luggage into the closet and pours himself a drink, downs it in one long swallow, and refills the highball. Next he sits on the sofa and powers up the television.

Hours later, and he’s still there, nursing his fifth or sixth scotch while the television plays softly. Some news channel. But he isn’t paying attention to it. He just needs the noise. It was amazing how quickly he’d gotten used to other people being around and now that they aren’t the silence in his suite is deafening.

Someone knocks at his door, so he sets down his drink and flicks off the TV. Warily, he looks through the peephole, hoping it isn’t his father planning to berate him for being a pathetic excuse for a son some more. Just in case he hadn’t gotten the message loud and clear last time.

But no. It’s Serena. Not that she is that much better this evening. Or any evening for that matter.
With an annoyed breath, he opens the door.

“Hey. I’m really sorry Chuck,” she starts.

Great. She’s come to apologize. Too little, and far too late.

“I know it wasn’t you that sent me that stuff,” she winces, handing him a card. Bored, he glances down at it.

S –
Hope you like your presents!
Coming back to town.
<3 G

Instantly, Chuck’s eyes fly to Serena’s face, a twinge of unease unfurling in the pit of his stomach. Already his pulse is beginning to race. “Why don’t I make you a drink?”

He mixes her a gin and tonic, and she takes it from his shaking grip without commenting on the apparent tremble. “Oh God,” she mutters between gulps. “Georgie can’t be coming back. She can’t.”

“You two used to spend a lot of time together,” Chuck nods absently, cold sweat breaking out along his skin as he imagines her cruel phantom laughter. “Drinking, dancing, conning men into buying your dinner. It seemed like you mostly enjoyed her company.”

“Yeah, well I did. Georgie was… fun.”

Chuck flinches at the word, remembering exactly Georgina’s ideas of fun.

Serena doesn’t notice his growing dread. “But she doesn’t have a limit, Chuck!” she exclaims. “She doesn’t stop, and everything gets out of control and there is no refusing her. She has a way of making it so you can’t say no and she… She gets you to do things you don’t want to do, things you never thought you’d do, and it… it…”

“It stops being fun?”

“Yes,” she whispers, meeting his eyes grateful for the understanding she sees mirrored there. “That’s it exactly, and if she comes back, she’ll ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for. I’m not that girl who parties until dawn anymore! But you know her. She won’t accept that I’ve changed, she’ll insist I’m still the same inside, that I can’t go back after what I’ve done, and I… I’m afraid that if I’m around her, she’ll end up being right.”

With the clarity that only horrors can bring, he recalls Georgina saying almost the exact same words to him. “But do you really think you can go back?” she had insinuated years before. “Just stop and forget about everything you’ve done to get here? You didn’t infiltrate this world, Chucky. You became part of it. You’re one of us now. Congratulations!”

He shudders, feeling adrenaline surging through his veins filling him with terror. But now is not the time to panic. Panicking only leads to rash decisions and poor judgments. Georgina thrives on inducing panic. So breathe, Bass, breathe. Think. What would she do in this situation?

Why find out if it was true of course! It could just be a ruse, a ploy to freak out Serena. It isn’t like the evil bitch has never sent vindictive items disguised as gifts before. He still remembers receiving flowers, a button, and a card from the whore, followed shortly afterwards by a call to see how much damage she’d wrought with the merest memory of her brutality. Perhaps this is like that.

So first things first: figure out where she is now. If she’s close, well then they might have a serious problem. She might actually intend to visit. And if she is not, if she’s on the other side of the planet, this could just be some of Georgina’s famous mind fuckery.

He moves past Serena at the wet bar to open a drawer and pull out a piece of Palace Hotel stationary. With an unsteady hand, he begins hastily scribbling names.

“Here,” he says after a bit, shoving the paper at Serena.

“What is this?”

“All the aliases I know she’s used. Have I missed any?”

Her blue eyes scan the list, reading a few out loud. “Monique, Christina, Svetlana… How do you know all these?”

He crosses his arms across his chest. “I make it my business to know.”

“Well you missed one,” she shrugs, taking the proffered pencil and adding it at the bottom. “Angel. Sometimes when partied, I went by Tiffany and she went by Angel.”

“How ironically inappropriate,” Chuck grimaces, whipping out his phone and pressing #3 on his speed dial. “Hey,” he commands in clipped tones when the other line picks up. “I need you to find the location of Georgina Sparks again. Pull her file, and I’ll be faxing you an updated list of aliases in a minute. It is urgent that you track her down.” When he hangs up, he discovers Serena peering at him strangely. “What?” he barks.

“God, Chuck you’re more freaked out at the prospect of her returning than I am!” she accuses. “Why is that?”

“It’s nothing,” he lies, attempting to brush her off. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”

Serena stares at him until he shifts uncomfortably under the weight of her obvious curiosity. “But you’ve hardly seen her since… since you two...” She stops, pursing her lips in thought. “It didn’t happen like she said, did it?” she finally blurts out.

Chuck hurries to pour himself another scotch, not liking the direction this conversation has taken. “What are you talking about?” he mumbles, stalling for time.

Please God. This cannot be happening. Not now. Not ever.

“When you slept with Georgina,” Serena presses. “You didn’t force yourself on – ”

“No,” he snarls, his blood turning to ice.

Oh sweet Jesus! He needs to get her out of here right now before she –

“Did… did she – ”

Oh fuck!

He cuts her off quickly. “It’s been nice catching up, Sis. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Chuck – ”

“Let it go, Serena,” he begs suddenly, hating the way he cannot quite look her in the eye. He knows if he does, she’ll see the answers to her questions there and he isn’t ready to have to deal with the inevitable pity that will follow such a discovery. “Just forget about it. Please.”

“If that’s what you want – ”

“It is! Believe me it is.”

As if she loathes leaving him, Serena slowly walks to the exit and lets herself out. Only once the lock clicks back into place does Chuck slump against the wall.

A girl, a scotch, and a smoke. That’s exactly what he needs to forget this nightmare of an evening. A petite girl with brown hair and brown eyes who reminds him of Blair. Someone he can pretend is Blair if he’s drunk enough, which he will be before the babe gets here, and after fucking her senseless he’ll get incredibly high, so high that he won’t care that the body nestled beside him is not Blair and will never be again.

Sounds heavenly.

Taking swigs of scotch straight from the bottle, he dials his preferred escort service and within forty minutes, a prostitute arrives. In a rush, he leads her inside and tumbles her onto the bed. She nuzzles his neck, teeth scraping his skin in a sinful torment, but he cannot fully appreciate it because she is not her no matter how drunk he is. Plus his cell keeps vibrating in his trouser pocket. Annoyed at the distraction, he pulls it out with one hand, fisting the other in her hair to draw her up for a kiss. His tongue wars with hers before he glances at the caller ID screen. The name causes him to stiffen, and abruptly he is shoving the brunette away, flicking his phone open hastily.

“Blair?” he whispers, thinking this has got to be some trick. “Is that you?”

“Hello lover,” she drawls before breaking into a giggle that is so decidedly un-Blair.

“Are you… Are you drunk dialing?” he asks dubious, struggling to hear her over the throbbing music coming over the line. Her only response is to laugh hysterically. “Where are you?”

“You know what, Bass?” she says, ignoring his question. “You and Serena were right all along. This is more fun!”

“Blair! Blair, please where are you?” he demands, climbing off the mattress, searching for his shoes.

“Do you remember the first time you saw the real me?” she breathes, her voice a seductive caress he has to strain to catch. “That Blair that danced for you that night at Victrola? The Blair with none of the hang-ups, none of the frustrations? That’s the Blair right here, and I like her, and she… she likes Toby.”

“Toby?” he chokes.

“Yes Toby,” she purrs and then Chuck’s fingers clasp around the cell so hard his knuckles turn white as the unmistakable sound of kissing comes over the line. “Bad Toby!” she squeals when the kiss ends. “He thinks I should grace him with a dance, but I don’t know if I – ”

“Where the fuck are you Waldorf!” he shouts, but the line goes dead in his hands. “Goddamn it!”

Pushing the brunette whore out of his suite, he dials the one place he knows where Blair would be able to perform another striptease.

On the third ring, the manager of Victrola answers. “Hello Mister Ba – ”

“Walter, I need you to find Blair Waldorf,” Chuck growls as he jogs into the elevator and pushes the button for the ground floor impatiently. “I think she’s in the club. 5’4”. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Probably wearing a headband. Very intoxicated. If you want to keep your job, do not let her leave!”

Flicking the phone shut and then open again, Chuck hits the speed dial for his chauffer as he races across the marble lobby and onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel.

“Arthur. Limo. Now,” he orders.

“Right away sir. It’ll just take me a moment to – ”

“Piss!” Chuck yells, sticking out his free hand to hail a passing taxi. “Just meet me at Victrola.”

Fifteen minutes later, Chuck is climbing out of a cab in front of his club. He breezes past the velvet rope, and straight inside where an anxious Walter waits.

“Where is she?”

“At your table Mister Bass,” Walter cringes. “She insisted on sitting there when she first came in.”

“I just bet she did.”

Stalking towards the stage, Chuck spots her familiar curls and feels the vice that had clenched around his heart with her phone call ease. Then an unknown guy leans in, kissing her like he owns her, and all Chuck can see is red.

Oh hell no! She is not getting hot and heavy with another man in his goddamned private booth!

“Shoo! She’s taken,” Chuck hisses, pushing this strange male away as he grabs Blair’s wrist to hoist her to her feet. Of their own accord, his arms curl around her possessively.

“Chuck!” she beams blearily, swaying against his chest, gesturing broadly to the guy who’d been all over her a moment before. “This is Toby.”

“Tony,” the jock corrects her, standing and visibly sizing up his competition.

“He just bought me another drink,” she slurs as she lifts a concoction to her ruby lips, sloshing some of the neon blue liquid over the rim.

“Wasn’t that thoughtful of Toby,” Chuck sneers, shooting a scathing look at the asshole. “Because you obviously haven’t had enough.”

“Dude, leave her alone,” the guy threatens, like he is the epitome of chivalry. “She’s been pretty clear about wanting me tonight, so why don’t you back off before you get hurt? She doesn’t want you.”

“That so?” Chuck arches one brow in challenge at the wannabe Don Juan. Then he pulls Blair swiftly against him, kissing her with all the pent up frustration of the past three months. Her lips open under his almost without any coaching and it is her tongue which invades his mouth. The fingers of one of her hands twist in his hair, and she wraps her other arm around his shoulders, pressing him closer, grinding into his pelvis in such a way that his groin instantly hardens against her. When he eventually raises his head, Blair is left clinging to him, nearly breathless, making soft mewling sounds of desire. “Was that clear enough for you?” Chuck smirks at the jock. “Or would you like another demonstration of how much she does in fact want me and not you?”

The muscle head glares. “Fucking cunt.”

“Excuse me?” Chuck says, moving Blair to the side. “What did you say?”

“I said she’s a fucking cunt!” the guy snarls.

“That’s what I thought you said,” Chuck nods solemnly, thoughts of other faces flashing through his brain. First Serena, followed by Bart, Georgina, Blair, Nate, and lastly this cocksucker, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, his fist collides with the arrogant prick’s nose.

For a second it is as if time elongates. Chuck is aware of pain exploding along the knuckles of his right hand. It hurts much more than he had anticipated something like this would. The movies always make it seem like it is nothing. But this? This is something. It feels like he broke a fucking bone!

And Blair is staring at him, her chocolate eyes huge with shock and… pride? No. No, surely not. A trick of the light perhaps. But she is making a move towards him, screaming his name, telling him to watch out for –

Then he’s being tackled roughly to the ground so hard the air is forced from his lungs as blows slam into his kidneys.

It’s all over before Chuck can even begin process what is going on, let alone defend himself as his highly paid bouncers rapidly pull the punch happy douche bag off their boss and kick him out into the street.

Wincing, Chuck drags Blair out of the club as well and into the recently arrived limo.

“You should have Arthur take you to the hospital,” Blair says once the door shuts behind them

“I’m fine Waldorf,” Chuck spits.

“Well you should have a doctor look at you just to be safe,” she fusses, trying to see how much damage the other guy had inflicted.

“No,” he growls, sliding away from her on the leather seats. “I’m a minor and they’ll have to contact Bart and believe me, that is the last thing I need right now. I’ve had a bad enough night as it is.”

“Oh, so it’s all my fault you had a bad day?” she bristles.

“Did I say that?”

“You – ”

Teeth clamping together so hard his jaw aches, he turns to stare at her with barely restrained fury. “Did I specifically say it was all your fault?”

“Well…no, but – ”

“But nothing!” he roars. “I did not say it was all your fault, but you immediately took it there. You always assume the absolute worst from me.”

Her mouth drops in outrage. “Well it isn’t like you haven’t given me sufficient cause!” she shrieks.

“Right, of course I have. I’m Chuck Bass,” he shouts. “Always up to something nefarious. Giving you that necklace at your birthday party was just to get you to part those pretty thighs! Being concerned that you might be pregnant with Nate’s baby was just covering my own ass! Dashing down here because you were drunk and I was fucking scared something could happen to you was just me… I don’t even know, but I’m sure you’ll come up with some ulterior motive! You always have to make everything I do part of some larger scheme instead of just accepting that maybe, just maybe I actually give a shit about you!”

“I – ”

“And what’s more? I shouldn’t even be surprised!” he retorts before she can even begin to form a comeback. “You always do this. You have to make everything all about you, except of course when it happens to involve me!”

“I do not!” she cries.

“Yes you do, and you don’t even realize how unbelievably selfish and fucking blind you are!” he declares. “Not everything in this world revolves around Blair Waldorf, but when it does, when it absolutely does princess, you refuse to see it!”

“How dare you – ” she snaps.

“No! No! How. Dare. You,” he grinds out. “You think I want to feel like this? That I appreciate being deemed an asshole and a monster just because I’m not your darling can-do-no-wrong Nathaniel? That it didn’t fucking hurt being your dirty little secret because you were too ashamed to let anyone know you were with me?”

“Chuck I – ” she starts to reach for him.

“No, no fuck you Waldorf!” he sneers, slapping her hands away. “You want to know why I’m having a bad day? Bart kicked me out. He chose Lily, and Serena, and Eric over me, his own son. So I had to move back to my suite, and that was followed by yet another crisis with Serena and almost as soon as she left, I got a drunken call from you and had to rush to Victrola to rescue you from Mr. Douche Bag Date Rapist and ended up getting my ass kicked for the trouble. And then you have the audacity to go all sanctimonious martyr on me and accuse me of things and play these Goddamned games yet again, so forgive me if I think I’ve got a fucking reason to be upset this evening!”

Stunned by his outburst, she stares at his in total silence until with a curse, he buries his face into his hands.

This day just keeps getting worse and worse.

Inhaling deeply, trying to regain his composure, he detects the faint sound of her scooting closer to him across the leather upholstery.

Tentatively, she places her palm against his back. “Chuck, I’m sor – ”

He recoils from her attempt at comfort. “Don’t touch me,” he grimaces. “I don’t want your hands anywhere on me ever again.”

Despite his protests, she presses her fingers more firmly into the wool of his sweater, massaging. “I don’t believe you,” she whispers. “Not now. Not after you kissed me like that at the club.”

“Yeah, well that didn’t mean anything,” he swallows, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders fade away as she rubs his taut muscles. “I was just trying to get that fucking bastard to leave you alone.”

Snuggling into his side, she pushes him upright so that he’s looking at her. “So what would happen if I kissed you right now?” she dares. “Would you pull away?”

Not wanting to play this game, Chuck turns his face away. “Blair…”

“Would you?” she repeats.

“Probably,” he snaps in irritation, glaring at her.

She narrows her eyes in amusement. “And if I did this?” she taunts, sliding into his lap, straddling him. “Would you stop me?”

His breath catches in his throat as his traitorous hands creep under the hem of her dress, skimming her legs, stroking along the silk of her stockings, inching ever upwards until abruptly his palms meet bare flesh.

Oh sweet Jesus. She’s wearing garters!

Hardening in response, he manages to whisper, “Possibly not.”

She smirks, feeling his growing arousal. “And this?” she mocks seductively before she lowers her mouth to his neck, nipping lightly at the tender flesh there until his hips arch up into her with a muffled groan.

“…no.”

“Why?” she inquires, tracing the ridge of his ear with her tongue. “I seem to recall you saying you didn’t want me anymore.” She lifts her head and meets his intense gaze, smoldering with desire, electricity crackling between them.

Fuck it.

“I… I may have been exaggerating slightly,” he admits as he reaches up to bury his fingers in her chestnut curls so he can claim her lips with his.

Before he can however, she tilts her neck away. “Don’t touch my hair.”

“What?” he blinks, annoyed at the interruption now that he’s given in. “You never objected before.”

“Yes, well only my boyfriend gets to touch my hair,” she explains, leaning down to kiss him.

Chuck turns his head away, denying her. “But I…” his voice fades for a second, deliberating. “I used to touch your hair all the time.”

She draws back slightly. “I guess you did.”

“So what does that mean exactly?” Chuck says, his tone a gentle command. “That we were…? That I was...?”

She clears her throat, glancing away. “I… I don’t know.”

His mouth twists in derision. “Real convenient for you not to know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she exclaims.

“You know, maybe I thought you were ready to tell me how you really felt, but obviously it was just another one of your games,” he jeers. “You don’t really want this Blair. You never did.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No. You just think you do because you’re drunk, but if we did this, you’d hate me in the morning. It’d just be another thing you’d blame me for, and sorry but I’m done being your whipping boy.”

“Fine!”

She shoves away from him, falling onto the floor of the limo, crawling to the mini-bar. Within seconds she returns, shoving one of the tiny bottles of tequila to his lips. ““Here. Drink this. Then we can be together and I can’t blame you. Nobody’s at fault since we’ll both be drunk.”

“Blair, I don’t think – ”

“Just shut up and drink it Bass!” she cries, upending one of the tiny bottles against his lips, forcing him to gulp or let the alcohol spill everywhere.

“I don’t need these to want you Blair. I always want you,” he confesses as she reaches for another bottle.

“I… I know… I just…” she sobs suddenly. “Please, for me. Do it for me.” She presses another one to his mouth. “I need this.”

And he understands finally that she does. That falling for Chuck Bass was not on her agenda but had happened anyway. That she isn’t ready to admit it to him, let alone herself, although it is undeniably true. The alcohol is just an excuse to give in to what she feels without having to face the stark reality of it. That’s why she’d called him in the first place, knowing he’d come to her rescue.

“I’d do anything for you, princess,” he whispers, cradling her cheek. “But not this. I can’t do this.”

“But this is what you want!” she wails.

He smiles sadly. “No. You know what I want, and I’m not going to settle for less. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she whimpers, tears beginning to fall down unchecked down her face as Chuck draws her into the circle of his arms. “What happened? When did everything get so screwed up? This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I don’t know who I am anymore, what I’m supposed to do. I feel so…”

“Lost,” he finishes, feeling the exact same way.

“Yeah,” she murmurs against the safety of his chest.

“Well I don’t know what to tell you Waldorf,” he admits. “I didn’t count on this either, and I’m just as confused and afraid as you are. Maybe more so, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Definitely,” he promises, fingering her tousled waves to see if she’ll complain. When she doesn’t, he drops a kiss into the disheveled curls with a grin.

She probably won’t remember any of this in the morning. But he will, and what was it she had said before? That only her boyfriend gets to touch her hair?

He likes the sound of that.