Will Not Remember, Cannot Forget

She’d caught him unawares. That much is obvious. He’d opened the door far too readily for him to have been anticipating her on the other side, but he recovers well. She’ll give him that. His startled reaction lasts less than a heartbeat and then his face is transforming into an impenetrable mask of bored indifference. It’s happens so quickly that most people would never even notice that his composure had slipped in the first place. But Georgina Sparks has never been most people. A mere fraction of a second is more than adequate for the likes of her. She doesn’t need more than that. Never has. She lives for momentary displays of vulnerability, and the shock, hatred, and horror that flash within the depths of his brown eyes when he realizes she is in his hallway definitely qualifies.

“Georgina,” Chuck swallows. “What are you doing here?” Although his expression is now unreadable, the slightest tremor in his voice betrays his anxiety.

Oh, this should be fun.

Ignoring his question, she examines him with deliberate slowness, taking in the sight of his eggplant purple sweater and butter yellow trousers with amusement, allowing her gaze to linger below his waist just long enough to be rewarded by him shifting his weight minutely. Yet another indication how unsettled he is at seeing her.

It’s adorable, really.

She lifts her penetrating stare to meet his and purses her lips mischievously, deciding that throwing him off his guard again will not be much of a challenge. “Has Bass Industries recently decided to invest in candy?” she inquires in faux seriousness.

Clearly not following this non sequitur, Chuck blinks at her in confusion. “No,” he says warily. “Why?”

“Just curious about why on earth you’re wearing that outfit,” she replies, reaching towards his clothing disdainfully, causing him to take a step back so that her extended fingers do not come in contact with his chest. This, of course, inadvertently moves him out of the doorway. “You look like Willy Goddamed Wonka, Chucky,” she snorts over her shoulder as she slips past him and into his suite exactly as planned.

Sometimes manipulation is just too easy.

“Hey!” he calls after her, his usually deep tone rising in fear, making him sound terribly young. “You can’t come in! Get the hell out!”

“Now, now Chucky dear,” she scolds playfully as she sinks onto his plush leather couch. “Is that anyway to greet an old friend?”

“You’re not a friend,” he snarls, glaring down at her, fury smoldering just beneath the surface of his words. Barely a minute has elapsed and already tension is radiating off of him.

Perfect.

In response, Georgina tilts her chin up to peer coyly at him. “All right,” she sighs dramatically. “If you want to get technical, a former lover then.” She punctuates the sentence with a flirtatious wink.

Seeing it, he grimaces in disgust, his jaw clenching so hard she can hear his teeth grinding together. Abruptly he snatches her wrist, clamping down upon it harshly and using it to wrench her to her feet. Despite the pain in her arm, she grins in victory. Anger makes people stupid and careless. It’s a universal fact. She knows this well, and she knows him well enough to provoke him into rage. It won’t even be difficult. Tonight Chuck Bass is a powder keg just waiting to explode, and she’s brought plenty of metaphorical matches.

How fortuitous.

“Understand this, bitch,” he sneers. “You aren’t my friend, you were never my lover, and if you don’t leave right now I swear I will – ”

“You’ll what, Chucky?” she taunts, pressing against him. “Play rough?” Her voice drops to a husky caress. “Please do.”

With a strangled cry, he shoves her from him and she tumbles back onto the sofa with a laugh that makes him shudder. “Leave or I’ll call security and have you thrown out,” he orders breathlessly.

He just keeps getting more entertaining.

“You don’t want to do that,” she threatens, crossing her legs so that her mini dress rides up high enough to reveal that she isn’t wearing anything beneath it. “That’s really not a smart idea,” she continues in a seductive purr while he cringes and glances away. “See, that would hurt my feelings, and you know how I get when my feelings are hurt.”

Running his fingers roughly through his hair, still refusing to look in her direction, he growls, “I don’t give a shit about your feelings!”

“That’s pretty unfortunate,” she muses aloud. “Things have a way of turning out very badly for my friends when I’m upset.”

“For the last time,” he snaps in exasperation, “I am not your friend! Things like you don’t have friends!”

“Yes, things like me,” she acquiesces, a patronizing twist of lips disguising her satisfaction at the opening he has presented her. “And like you from what I gather,” she adds with practiced nonchalance.

His head whips to the front. “Excuse me?”

Bingo.

“I heard you haven’t exactly been Mr. Popular yourself lately,” she goads with an arch of one slender brow. “Something about screwing a certain brunette. Care to elaborate?”

Instantly, he stiffens. “Go to hell.”

“Oops. Did I hit a nerve?” she winces with false sincerity. “Or was she really that bad?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re hinting at,” he declares with such conviction that she might almost have believed him if she hadn’t already known the truth.

“Nice try darling,” she teases. “But you still can’t lie to me. I know you better than anyone. I always will.”

“Yes, well some things have a way of changing,” he retorts.

“And yet some things never do, although your friendship with Nathaniel was obviously not one of them,” she points out maliciously. Then almost as an afterthought, she asks, “So was she worth it?”

“I don’t know what – ”

She sighs, cutting off his denial with an irritated flick of the wrist. “Drop the act, Chucky. I already read the blast about you banging your best friend’s girl.”

With her statement, his hands curl into fists, an unconsciously defensive gesture.

“I must say that I was a bit surprised,” she mutters into the silence that descends. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Nate’s been nothing but loyal after all, but you proved me wrong.” His rigid stance wilts slightly, shame clouding his features for a brief moment before she forges ahead with glee. “I am so proud. I was worried you’d forever be that pathetic little boy bawling on the couch.” She leans back deeper into the plush cushions, touching the leather fondly. “This couch if memory serves.”

Something within him finally cracks. Georgina can see it in the way he abruptly flinches; hear it in his quick intake of breath. “Get the fuck out of my suite,” he shouts, the broken child he had been long ago staring out of his eyes once more.

Wonderful.

Beyond delighted, and beaming with triumph, she commands, “Sit down, Chucky. I’m not going anywhere. And you really need to learn to control that temper of yours. It’s going to get you into trouble.”

“The only trouble I am having is you!” he snarls, glaring down at her in disdain, making the mistake of getting too close when he does so. Taking advantage of his error, she stretches out her foot and rubs it up the inside of his calf. At the contact, he hisses sharply through his teeth and practically leaps backwards.

“My, my. Someone’s a little high strung,” she announces. “You know, I hear that’s very bad for the uh…” Allowing her voice to fade away, she wiggles her fingers in the direction of his crotch. Then she gasps suddenly in faux concern. “Oh! Is that why you’re so agitated? Can’t get it up? Feeling a bit sexually frustrated?” Before he can respond, she sweeps her hair to the side and exposes the pale line of her neck. “You poor dear, I’d be more than willing to help you out with that.”

“Fuck you.”

She smiles cruelly. “That is the idea.”

“I don’t have time for this shit right now Georgina,” he grinds out. “So why don’t you just tell me why you’re really here. What is it that you want? Whatever it is, I’ll give to you if you’ll just go the fuck away.”

“Whatever I want, huh?”

“Yes, whatever the hell you want,” he admits in palpable defeat. But when she drops her gaze suggestively and makes a move to stand, he steps hastily out of reach and amends, “Excluding that.”

“And if there isn’t anything else I want?” she counters with a smirk.

His eyes narrow at her in loathing, revealing that while he may have conceded defeat, he isn’t that defeated. “Then I guess I’ll have to take my chances with calling security,” he spits.

“You used to be fun,” she sulks.

“And you used to have a soul,” he bites back.

“Careful, Chucky,” she warns. “You might make me think you don’t enjoy my company.”

“I don’t,” he says emphatically. “As you are well aware. That’s the main reason you’re here, isn’t it? To torment me?”

“You know me so well,” she preens. “But I’m afraid you’re wrong this time. Tormenting you isn’t the main reason I came.”

It’s the only reason. Wreaking havoc upon Serena was just a hilarious bonus, and also the perfect prelude to what she plans to do to him. His life had gotten far too comfortable in her absence and he had been much too close to having everything he had ever wanted. Luckily he seems to have botched it on his own, but she’ll make certain that he doesn’t get another chance at happiness. It just wouldn’t do.

“To be honest – ” she continues.

“You? Honest?” he snorts, cutting her off. “Talk about an oxymoron.”

“Cute. But honestly I just want to catch up,” she lies smoothly.

“Catch up?” he repeats warily. “With me?”

She nods, “Exactly.”

“Like you caught up with Serena?” he drawls, his voice sounding relieved.

Gullible moron.

“But of course, dear,” she beams in assurance.

He beams back, his expression almost a perfect mirror of hers as he coos, “I don’t think so darling.”

At his mimicry, she suppresses an urge to throw something. She does not appreciate being ridiculed, and that answer had not been the one she was expecting. “You said I could have whatever I wanted,” she bristles.

Dropping the pretense at pleasantry, he leans forward, his lip curling in contempt. “Well forgive me,” he pleads, his tone oozing sarcasm. “But I changed my mind.”

“Why? Don’t you want to hang out with me? S and I had a lot of fun,” she pouts, pretending to be upset, thinking that perhaps he isn’t an idiot after all.

“Right,” he glowers. “Because being roofied is always fun.”

“It’s comments like that that make me wonder how you ever managed to become Carter’s and my protégé,” she notes idly.

“Because I balk at drugging people against their will?” he deadpans. “Thank you. I’m flattered.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” she sneers.

“Oh I know,” he grins. “But anything that separates me from the likes of Carter Baizen and you, I will take as one.”

“Sticks and stones, Chucky,” she remarks scornfully. Maybe she should have just focused her efforts on the Bass heir all those years ago instead of splitting her attentions between him and Serena. The blonde always had been such a disappointment, and surely these unfortunate scruples could have been banished from his psyche if she’d given them enough consideration. Terror is a great motivator for change. “But really,” she asserts after a second’s hesitation, “You should be thanking me.”

He squints at her, clearly dubious. “For what?”

“For what?” she scowls. “For everything. I practically gave birth to you!”

The corner of his mouth twitches, an unmistakable sign that he’s amused. “Actually, I believe that was my mother.”

“Oh please,” she scoffs. “I made you, Chucky.”

“That would also be my mother,” he mutters softly with a grin. “As well as my father.”

Drumming her fingers along her thigh in annoyance, Georgina huffs, “As much as I’m enjoying the witty repartee, how about we stop being literal for a moment?”

“But that takes all the fun out of it,” he laughs.

Overconfident bastard. How soon he forgets who he’s dealing with. A reminder is definitely in order.

“Okay, if you insist on being juvenile,” she replies condescendingly, her lips drawing back into a predatory show of teeth that causes his laughter to die in his throat. “What did your parents give you that I didn’t, huh? DNA? Abandonment issues? A penchant for purple? I gave you strength, Chucky. A will to survive and the means to protect yourself. I made you who you are today. You would have been nothing without me. You’re much better off. Trust me.”

“Funny,” he growls. “I seem to recall liking who I was just fine before you entered my life.”

“The point is,” she explains rapidly to hide her excitement at maneuvering him so deftly into a position to be hurt by his own insecurities, “I had as much a hand in creating you as your parents. Probably more since your mother saw fit to die and your father can’t bear the sight of you.”

His jaw tightens. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with my father.”

“Really?” she asks, triumph coloring her question. “So Bart didn’t throw you out then? That isn’t why you are living here and he is living with the van der Woodsens? Pardon me. My mistake.”

Pausing just long enough for his guardedness to wane ever so slightly, she tosses out the most lethal comment as if it weren’t a bomb at all. All the better to wound one with. “Congratulations on Bart’s upcoming nuptials, though,” she exclaims. “I’m sure you’re thrilled. Lily is such a catch, and hopefully she’ll be able to give your father the son he’s always wanted.”

His reaction is very subdued. It’s hardly a flinch at all, more like the briefest flicker of eyelashes. But it’s enough for her to have to fight down a sudden compulsion to pump her fist into the air.

Victory is sweet.

Meeting her exultant gaze, Chuck swallows, “Get out.” He is scarcely audible.

“Alright,” Georgina sighs, rising to her feet and heading toward the exit without any protest. Before she reaches the door, however, she calls back offhandedly, “But if you won’t entertain me, I guess I’ll have to go visit Serena again.”

When she hears him curse from the other room, followed immediately by hurried footsteps approaching from behind, she adjusts her stride. The slightly slower pace will easily allow him to catch up and ensure that when he does, the illusion that he is preventing her from leaving is maintained. He’ll be lured into thinking he is in control of the situation then, and sometimes appearances are everything.

“Wait,” he says begrudgingly, his outstretched palm making it impossible for her to open the door.

She turns to him, making a show of being curious. “Changing your mind so soon?”

“No. No, I just…” he fumbles for words. “You need to leave Serena alone.”

Tilting her chin defiantly, she contradicts him. “I don’t need to do anything.”

“I’m serious Georgina. Leave her alone.”

Ah. Chuck Bass the valiant white knight. How ironically endearing.

She lifts an indulgent brow, mirth brimming in her eyes. “And why should I do that?”

Meeting her stare, understanding that she is humoring him, he moistens his lips. “She doesn’t want to see you,” he eventually sputters, his courage wavering although he as yet refuses to back down.

So precious.

If only he behaved this way all the time. It’s so much more rewarding to reduce him to tears when he attempts to stand up to her, and he’s never done so in defense of another before. That deviation in his behavior will just make the dénouement in this dance of destruction that much more delicious

“How very astute,” she taunts. “Did you figure that out all by yourself?” Before he can respond, she starts for the door again.

“I hear things too, you know,” he blurts out suddenly.

That proclamation halts her forward movement. What the fuck has he heard? Who has been talking? Could Serena have confided in him? If so, there will be hell to pay!

With feline grace, she inclines her head. “Really?” she smirks. “Like what?”

“Like that you’ve been a little strapped for cash lately,” he answers. “Since your parents cut you off.”

“Well then you’ve heard wrong,” she announces, relief washing over her along with irritation. She should not have been even remotely anxious in the first place. She is Georgina Sparks, and he… He is nothing but a toy. “About my funds at least. I’m loaded at the moment.”

“You mean the Swiss Prince is loaded, right?” he smiles, still thinking he has something on her. “Is he still looking a bit paunchy?”

“Have you been keeping track of my whereabouts, Chucky?” she gushes with saccharine sarcasm. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“Of course I do,” he replies in the same sugary tone. “If I don’t know where you are, how will I know when to celebrate your inevitable demise?”

The Goddamned motherfucker is mocking her! Oh that will not be tolerated.

“As clever as these insults are, they’re starting to get a little old, dear,” Georgina whispers. “So why don’t we dispense with the bullshit and cut to the chase?”

Hearing the danger in her soft tone, Chuck nods rapidly. “Alright. How much do you want?”

“Excuse me?”

“To not bother Serena again,” he clarifies.

She blinks in skepticism. “You’re willing to bribe me to leave S alone?”

“Yes.”

He really does want to look after the blonde. Interesting. Seems her protégés have bonded. So very sweet, and definitely something that can be used to her advantage.

“And if I don’t want money?” she yawns. “What’s it worth to you then?”

He shifts his stance nervously. “What do you have in mind?”

Big mistake asking that. Sloppy, sloppy.

“Oh I’d love to hear how you managed to bang the Waldorf bitch,” she confesses with a wink. “Was her first time perhaps like yours, Chucky?”

“Well it was certainly memorable,” he admits. “But I’m not telling you anything about it.”

Foolish boy, assuming she actually wants the information. He should remember that the first request is always a decoy. As is the second…

“That’s okay since there is something else I would much rather have.” She reaches out to run her palm down the line of buttons on his shirt possessively.

Recoiling from her touch, he steps backward. “I’m not sleeping with you either.”

“You just have to take all the fun out of everything, don’t you?” she complains.

“No sex Georgina.”

The third offer, however? It’s always the intended target.

“Fine,” she shrugs, unconcerned. “I’ll take a kiss instead.”

“No deal.”

“Come on now Chucky,” she teases, using reason against him. “What’s the problem now? This is more than a fair trade. I’ll leave S alone in exchange for a simple kiss.”

He shakes his head, a vehement refusal. “Nothing is simple with you, and I already stipulated no sex.”

“This isn’t sex,” she retorts. “It’s a kiss.”

“And you expect me to believe that you aren’t going to push for more?” he snorts in derision. “That you won’t try to take liberties? That you don’t even now have some sick little scheme already lying in wait that’ll trap me into taking my pants off? I don’t think so.”

“Paranoid much?”

“I hardly think its paranoia when you came to my place not wearing underwear,” he drawls sardonically.

“Touché,” she snickers, giving him a tiny bow since she can’t exactly bow to herself. “But you really don’t have a choice, you know.”

“What are you – ”

Quickly she cuts him off. “If you don’t kiss me,” she promises, “I’ll make Serena’s life hell, and what will you say to her after I inform her that you could have prevented it with a single, solitary kiss and you wouldn’t do it? What will Blair think? They’re still connected at the hip, aren’t they?”

He is silent for a second, and then glares at her with livid eyes. “You fucking whore, I hate – ”

“So we’re agreed?” she interrupts with a laugh.

“You want to be kissed, bitch?” he sneers. “Fine.” Grabbing her roughly, he jerks her against his chest. His hands twist harshly in her hair until she winces from the pain, and only then does he lower his face to hers.

The kiss is vindictive, brutal, savage. He bites at her mouth even as her tongue dares to venture into his. She begins to wrap her arms around his waist, but he breaks the kiss and shoves her back violently into the wall.

Panting slightly, she touches her lips, sees her fingers come away smeared slightly with blood. Raising her gaze to his, she licks them clean, a challenge in her glacial eyes. “If that is how you kissed Blair Waldorf,” she taunts, “I can see why she went back to Nate.”

A look of anguish so raw its very pureness takes her breath away flashes over his features, and then his face contorts in unrestrained rage.

“Get out of my suite you psychotic – ” he demands, his voice deep and authoritative as he wrenches his door open.

But his rant ends quite unexpectedly when he spots a petite brunette standing in the hallway, her tiny fist hovering in the air as if she’d been about to knock, her expression utterly startled.

“Bass, have you seen Ser – ” Blair begins, and then those chocolate orbs of hers settle over his shoulder and instantly darken with accusations. “What is she doing here?”

Oh goody.