Disclaimer: I own nothing, nor do I claim to.

A/N: I think this is the first time i've done a first person POV story so that's new for me, but of course it's Chuck/Blair as always. The song is one of my favourites, "Sunday" by Bloc Party. I hope you enjoy, reviews are love!

I love you in the morning, when you're still hung-over
I love you in the morning, when you're still strung out
I love you in the morning...
I work hard all week and so do you

We deserve to let off some steam
Let all the drugs creep in
When we need to rage through this life
There might be ones who are smarter than you
That have the right answers, that wear better shoes
Forget about those melting ice caps
We're doing the best with what we've got

I love you in the morning, when you're still hung-over
I love you in the morning, when you're still strung out
I love you in the morning...

When I'm with you, I am calm
A pearl in your oyster
Head on my chest, a silent smile
A private kind of happiness
You see giant proclamations are all very well
But our love is louder than words

I felt satisfied, that warm, content feeling when everything falls into place, everything you expected has come to light and a plan succeeds.

It was the early hours of a Saturday morning, still dark outside and I had just returned from a party at Hazel's house to slip of my pain-inducing heels and settle at the kitchen table with the latest issue of vogue and a pastry, not even considering the effects of so many calories so early in the morning.

I had turned up fashionably late to the senior's party with Serena, only to be outraged by the fact that a social-climbing junior I had secretly been harbouring an intense dislike for named Polly was waltzing around in a cute dress chatting to every player of the lacrosse team.

I gathered the clique together and managed to persuade them that Polly was a social threat who needed to be disposed of immediately, neglecting to tell them that a marginal amount of my hatred toward the junior was due to the fact that she had attempted to put the moves on Chuck multiple times. Bitch.

It's not that I'm irrationally jealous or anything, I know that Chuck would never do anything and I let thousands of times when he and other women flirt slide, but this Polly girl was doing it in spite toward me, knowing he was my boyfriend. It had left me fuming while Chuck simply laughed it off, kissing me sweetly and telling me to forget about her.

Another reason Polly got under my skin was because she reminded me of Little J, the betrayer. Polly had blonde locks and baby-blues that stared out at the world with a seemingly innocent, wide-eyed curiosity that people found endearing. Except for me.

Polly's whiny voice made my blood boil and the way her high-pitched giggles always grew louder and faker when Chuck was in the vicinity made me want to choke her. Ugh, just the way she had flicked her hair in his face and smiled when I found her pawing him in the courtyard and had told her politely as possible to get lost made me want to pluck every last gold strand from her scalp.

'I hate the way she is always sniffing around you like a love-sick puppy, waiting for you to throw her a bone.' I sniffed in disgust as we watched her walk away, swinging her hips from side to side.

'What can I say? I'm irresistible.' He replied lightly, nuzzling my neck.

His carefree attitude did nothing to settle my raging temper. 'How can you be so casual about this? It's like she's trying to be me! She wants to take everything from me, my throne, my friends, my boyfriend...!'

'No one can take me away from you.'

I snapped my eyes away from Polly's retreating figure to meet the dark irises of the UES's former most notorious player. Of course he'd lost his title after becoming my faithful, doting boyfriend of many months. I smiled up at his beautifully outlandish-featured, ivory skinned face. 'Chuck...' I whispered at his romantic sentiment that filled my chest with joy.

We kissed and I inwardly vowed not to bring the subject up again with Chuck, knowing it would only annoy him as he thought he'd quelled my doubts but I would not forget about Polly and I was already plotting against her rise in popularity.

The girls and I came up with a plan that of course involved Gossip Girl, who I had to admit, did have her uses at times, and destroyed pretty little Polly. I almost felt bad when I saw those puddles of stunning blue fill with tears. Almost.

All in all, it had been a good night. I was slightly disappointed that I didn't get to see Chuck, but I was too busy and as I heard he was drunken and disorderly out on the balcony with a bunch of those pothead friends of his. I figured I'd call him later in the day, when his hangover had worn off.

I rubbed my face tiredly, and then remembered the amount of make-up I was wearing and cringed. Thinking now was a good time to haul myself up to bed, I snapped my magazine closed and loaded my empty plate into the dishwasher.

I love the feeling of taking your make-up off. It always feels like a mask to me. The Blair Waldorf, perfect daughter, Queen B, model student mask. I only allow certain people to see me without my make-up, hating the way I look without it. Unattractive, pasty, tired.

Serena has seen me without my make-up, Dorota too. Chuck has many times, but that wasn't ever at first because I wanted him too. It was the many nights we spent together, and I'd wake up with him in my bed, my make-up either taken off prior to falling asleep or forgotten about, smudged off on my sheets during the course of my slumber.

One morning I'd slept in his suite I'd caught sight of myself in the mirror and immediately drawn a sheet over my head, worsening my bed-hair.

'Oh my god, I look awful!' His answer had been an unhelpful laugh. 'How can you ever want to have sex with me? Get my make-up bag, now!'

I felt his weight on the bed shift as he did as he was told and went in search of the requested item in my over-night bag. After a moment he returned and I felt him tug on the sheet, which I lowered minutely.

He held out my make-up bag. 'Here, even though I think you look beautiful without it.'

I took the proffered item and rolled my eyes sceptically, 'whatever do you.' I hated that we could both hear that low tone of need in my voice, a search for re-assurance.

'I do! You could wear a paper bag and I'd still think you were hot.' I cocked my head to one side, seeing his face was open and truthful. 'Although,' he smirked, 'I like it much better when you're wearing nothing.' He attempted to pull the sheet out of my hands, away from naked form.

After washing my face in my bathroom, I dug through my drawers to find some comfortable nightwear. My fingers had just closed round a silk nightgown when the ding of my lift sounded and my head snapped up.

Who the hell...?

'Waldorf!'

I groaned, eternally thankful that all the maids had already gone home and my mother was in Paris on business.

'Waldorf!' The drunken call of a very familiar voice sounded again, this time a lot closer and I deduced he was halfway up the winding stairway. 'Don't think I won't come up there, if you think making me walk all that way is going to send me away than you are very much mistaken! In fact, your bedroom is very convenient as I've come to ravish you so-' his voice stopped abruptly as he caught sight of me standing on the top step, staring down at him with my arms crossed against my chest.

He was leant against the wall, using it to keep him upright as he made the difficult journey up each step, clearly inebriated. Judging from his almost inability to walk, his total lack of balance and slurred voice I guessed he was a few drinks away from being paralytic. I sighed. I was way too fatigued to deal with this right now.

'What the hell do you think you are doing here?' I kept my voice level and cold as he stared up at me beneath long, dark lashes with a lop-sided smirk on his face.

'Come to see you, of course!' He informed me cheerily, gesturing me with a pointed finger that flailed madly in the air before dropping limply to his side.

'You are so lucky that my mother is out of town. And,' I added as an after thought, 'that Dorota isn't here. She would have kicked your ass for coming here shouting like that.' I chided like I were a teacher and he a naughty school child.

Come to think of it, that was probably one of his fantasies. Gross.

'It's just you and me then...?' He asked suggestively, attempting to push off from the wall and ascend a few more steps toward me.

I moved my arms from my chest to rest on my hips, watching him with hidden worry and hoping he didn't make a wrong step and send himself tumbling backwards down the marble staircase. That would not be good.

'Nope, it's just me because you are leaving.'

My dark haired boyfriend raised his head, a confused expression on his beloved face. 'I am?'

'Yes. Right now. Go.' I attempted to shoo him, but he stood rooted on the staircase, one hand gripping the banister for dear life as he swayed back and forth. 'I suppose your driver is waiting outside?' I prompted.

'No, I sent him home.'

I scowled at his confession as it obviously meant he'd expected I'd let him stay.

I let out a sound of frustration. 'Fine, I'll call you a cab.'

My UES king looked disappointed. 'Why can't I just stay here?' he whined like a petulant five-year-old.

'Because I don't want to have to deal with your vomiting and drunken ramblings. What I really want is to fall asleep in my comfy, warm bed,' I looked longingly over my shoulder at my bedroom door and then back to Chuck, 'without having to worry about drunken boyfriends puking on my plush carpets or falling down stairs and breaking their necks.'

I descended the steps that remained between us and took hold of his upper-arm in a vice-like grip and began to lead his unsteady frame back down the staircase. I pushed Chuck till he sat obediently on the bottom step, watching me with unfocused, dilated pupils.

He was dishevelled; his hair ruffled, shirt un-tucked, top buttons undone and tie yanked down to his chest, yet still undeniably gorgeous. I found myself drawn in by his deliciously dark irises, which were usually liquid pools of lust or, on not-so-rare occasion deviousness.

While his gaze captivated me, Chuck took the opportunity to close the gap between our faces. I sighed as our lips met and his tongue invited itself into my mouth, but pulled back when I tasted the alcohol and smoke. I wrinkled my nose good-naturedly and stroked his cheek when he groaned in disappointment at the loss of contact.

'I haven't seen you this drunk in ages,' I commented and then asked curiously, 'how come you had so much?'

'Bored,' he answered miserably. He didn't meet my gaze as he continued, 'you were busy and I can't exactly pull anyone can I? Nothing to do… and I missed you.'

I felt my chest ache, knowing he'd never admit this if he weren't so wasted and it was probably a good thing he wouldn't remember a thing later because if he recalled admitting that to me he'd probably feel obliged to throw himself of a bridge.

'That's sweet. I missed you too.'

Chuck looked up at me then, and I saw the hope flash in his eyes and I inwardly groaned, 'then I can stay?'

I inwardly battled myself, I really, really didn't want to deal with a drunk Chuck now and then even worse a grumpy, hung-over Chuck in the morning but I felt bad about neglecting him for my Queen B duties, plus it seemed harsh to shove him in a cab and send him on his way.

In the end Chuck's puppy dog look won out and I surrendered. 'Fine. Fine. You can stay. But you are not going to "ravish me", we are going to go upstairs and sleep okay? I mean it, Chuck.'

'Yeah, yeah got it,' he assured me happily, 'no naughty business.'

'Come on,' I helped him to stand ungracefully, and hooked one of his arms around my shoulder, placing one of my own around his waist 'let's get you in the shower.'

'Ooh, kinky.'

'What did I just say?' I elbowed him in the ribs.

'Right. Sorry.' I was surprised, not knowing that Chuck knew the meaning of "sorry". Apparently drunk Chuck was a lot more polite than sober Chuck. 'No naughty business.'

Once I'd finally managed to half-walk, half-drag Chuck into my bathroom, I surrendered his weight to the chair in the corner where he slumped and watched me beneath hooded-eyelids. I turned the shower on; making sure the water was just the right temperature by sticking my bare arm beneath the spray. I was annoyed when the water, disrupted by the form of my limb, spurted droplets onto my party dress before I realized I was going to rid myself of it soon enough anyway.

I turned and my breath caught in my throat at the way he was watching me, admiration clear as day on his face. Feeling self-conscious I crossed my arms over my chest. 'What?'

He smiled. 'I love you.'

'I know you do.' I replied softly before walking back to him.

I helped Chuck shrug off his dinner jacket. 'I'm going to get changed in the other room and then I'm going to get you something to eat,' I told him as I rid him of his tie, 'so have a shower real quick, okay?' I instructed.

'Why do I have to have a shower?' He sighed sleepily, head rolling toward his chest as if it weighed a ton.

'Because you stink of booze and smoke and I'm not letting you sleep in my bed like that, making my sheets smelly.' He sighed again but I didn't give him time to argue, 'look, just have a shower and I'll get you something to eat, okay?'

He mumbled 'bossy,' under his breath as I was leaving but seemed to surrender to my will. It was probably the thought of food.

I had taken care of a drunken Serena so many times that I could probably write a handbook on the subject. It was a far cry away of how I had acted the first time I'd ever seen anyone drunk, which, coincidentally was Chuck. I'd been so frightened by his sudden personality-change that I'd stood stiff as he'd curled his finger around strands of my hair as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Unsure of what to do, I watched helplessly as Nate took him upstairs to the Archibald bathroom so Chuck could be sick.

I've been wasted plenty of times but I don't drink the way Serena and Chuck do, hell bent on destroying their livers. Serena is a binge drinker, she can go for weeks without touching the stuff, and then get shit-faced for three days straight, drinking and partying till she passes out, only waking to continued her binge.

Chuck, on the other hand, is an alcoholic. He has been drinking for years and has slowly built up a tolerance for alcohol that no one else I know can match. He always has a scotch in hand, the exception being while at school, whatever time of day. It takes a lot to get him really, really drunk like he is right now and he hardly ever crosses that line.

From all the lessons taking care of an intoxicated Serena has taught me, number one was always; never leave the person alone.

I re-entered the bathroom after changing into my nightwear, leaving a bagel on the nightstand for Chuck, and found him sat fully clothed, with the exception of the dinner-jacket and tie that I'd already helped him out of, in the shower.

'What are you doing?' I screeched, exasperated.

His eyes snapped open at the sound of my voice and he jolted forward, clearly unnerved. When he noticed it was I he slumped back against the tiled wall but kept his eyes open so he could watch me. 'You told me to have a shower,' he frowned, voice thin with fatigue as he struggled to remain awake and lucid.

'Not in your clothes!' For god's sake, he even still had his shoes on. His pale blue shirt was stuck to his torso, slowly turning transparent under the weight of the water.

'Oh.' Chuck supplied in response.

Unmindful of my nightgown, I crouched beneath the spray and pulled on the heel of each shoe, easing them of his socked-feet. 'You're like a child,' I scolded tiredly. 'A drunken, retarded child.' I pealed his socks off next. 'Remind me never to have a kids.'

'Sorry,' he mumbled, eyelids sliding closed to cover his dilated-pupils.

'You better not be going to sleep.' I began working on each button on his shirt, the wet fabric complicating the action of pushing the tiny plastic buttons through each slit.

'I'm comfy.' He protested without opening his eyes, a pout pushing on his lips and a scowl knitting his brow.

'On cold hard tiles? Well I don't care; you're not sleeping yet. You think I don't wish I wasn't in my bed right now? You are such a chore.' As the last button was undone I took hold of each side of the shirt, bunching the drenched fabric in my tiny fists and attempted to drag Chuck's torso away from the wall. I gritted my teeth, leaning back to put my weight into my work. Chuck sat there like dead weight, barely noticing my efforts. 'Argh! Can't you help, Chuck? Sit forward, will you?'

He opened his eyes and looked down in surprise at my hands fisted in his shirt as though he hadn't realized my persistent pulling. Chuck complied with my request and scooted forward.

I moved behind him on my knees and began to remove the wet article of clothing, exposing the alabaster, goose-bumped skin of his slender back. Chuck helped me by holding out his arms and soon the shirt was crumpled in a pile on the tiles.

The only sound in the bathroom was the repetitive thud of each droplet around us. I was overcome with a strange, aching affection when I watched Chuck turn his head to glance at me over his shoulder, looking surprising childlike with his wet hair in tangles pasted to his forehead. I wrapped my arms around his neck from behind, crushing myself to his bareback and resting my chin in the warm crook of his neck.

The dark strands of my hair mixed with his and our warmth was transferred between us, seeping through our equally pale skin.

'I love you,' I murmured into his ear and his hands came up to rest over my arms.

We sat like that for a while before I seemed to come into myself, remembering we were sat on the tiles of a shower that had begun to run cold. My knees and shins were cramping below me.

Wincing at the pain that shot through my lower-legs as I pushed myself upwards I said, 'come on. The water is freezing, let's get you to bed.'

I knew he must be exhausted when he made no lewd comment in response, instead allowed me to help him up and guide him out of the shower. I turned off the spray and turned back to my boyfriend. I made light work of the rest of his clothing and then towelled us both dry.

Such an intimate act was strange with Chuck, any other time he would have thrown me against the wall and buried himself deep within me and I'm not saying that's a bad thing, but just being this close to him without the idea of sex was new and nice.

He watched me with his dusky eyes and I got the feeling he was about to kiss me, but, taking me by surprise, he simply leant down and rested his jaw on my bony shoulder, encircling me with his strong arms around my bare back.

We stood, completely naked apart from the towel low on his hips and the one tied around my own frame, in a long embrace, comfort seemed to radiate from his every pore and I felt vulnerable yet protected and whole.

'Come on, you're exhausted.' Mentally, I added, we're exhausted.

Hand in hand, we crawled into bed, towels forgotten on the floor like his bagel on the nightstand. The sheets were cool against my warm skin and I cuddled up close to Chuck, breathing in his scent and tangling our legs together. I leaned over him to switch off the light and sighed loudly in fatigue and contentedness. 'G'night.' He murmured, already half way asleep

'Night.'

I knew in a couple of hours there'd be hell; Dorota would be around soon and she would not be happy about finding Chuck especially with Eleanor away and Chuck would be moody and hung-over and probably throwing up everywhere but right now I couldn't bring myself to care.

I allowed my eyes to drift shut.