A/N: So...I got the idea for this story one day and I could not get it out of my head.  Therefore, I wrote it down.  Haha.  I hope you like this because I had a wonderful time writing it.  Make sure to leave me a note after you read :-)

Unscripted

"You aren't what I want," she tells him.

            Her eyes are misty and he can't stop himself from laughing at the absurdity of her confession.  Standing in front of her doorstep with a bouquet of roses, he is every type of cliché and she is doing the ultimate betrayal by fulfilling yet another cliché with her cold denial.  It is absurd, the way she plays her role so well.  The way she bases her entire thought process and life on movies that are written by hired hands who were probably dogged until the very last page of their screenplay that would make every regular guy in America look like a schmuck.

            Standing at her doorstep with the now wilting roses, he can't get over how clichéd he has become.  Chuck Bass used to never be ordinary.  He didn't hold hands. he didn't return phone calls.  He was above any formality, any normalty.  And now he is standing outside of his girlfriend's apartment with a look on his face that can probably be taken straight from a bad date movie.

            Yet, he would do it all again for her.

            He would do anything for her.  Stand in front of her door for hours, sit through endless runs of Sabrina, anything just to take in the beauty that was Blair Waldorf.

            His father didn't understand when he had first told him about the trouble between him and Blair.

            "Well, if you want her, get her," he had said, as if the entire situation was easily remedied.  He made it sound like Chuck could win Blair Waldorf with a snap of his fingers and he wished, himself, that it was that easy.  If Blair Waldorf was won over that simply, he wouldn't be groveling.

            He was, though.

            He had studied every movie she loved and learned from Bogart, Grant, and Brando the intricacies of groveling. Everything would be practiced, perfected.  When she opened the door at his knocking, though, every scripted line in his head dropped away like petals from a flower.  He was standing before her and his words came out stilted and awkward.

            The truth was that he wasn't Bogart, Grant, and Brando.  He was Chuck Bass and while he had his own charms that had served him well, in the face of Blair Waldorf he found himself stripped bare of every trick he knew.

            "What are you doing here?"  She asked him, crossing her arms over her chest.  He was distracted by the milky whiteness of her wrist and did not answer for a moment.  "Chuck?"

            "I love you."

            "No, you don't," she retorted.  "If you loved me, you wouldn't have abandoned me in Tuscany."

            "You're right," he admitted.  "I was a fool.  I didn't prove my love by doing so, but I want to prove it to you now."

            "No, you don't get to choose the timing, Chuck," she said irritably and he could hear the unspoken ending of her sentence.  "This is my movie, Chuck.  Not yours."

            It was evident in her eyes, her stout belief that she pulled the strings in her own life.  The action was set by her hand alone.  He could see it in the way she held her head, the angle she lifted her chin.  She was playing a part in her carefully scripted life and he realized that his coming was a scene she had not written.

            "Don't write me off," he pleaded softly.  "I know I'm not what you planned for, but sometimes the audience likes a twist."

            "It's not that simple, Chuck," she replied.  "If it were, we'd already be having our happy ending."

            "You can make it that simple," he urged.  "It's up to you, Blair.  Either you write me in or you don't."

            "It's not that simple," she repeated.

            "Then what is it?"  He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

            "I don't know," she admitted.

            "We belong together, Blair.  It's inevitable."

            What she said after that was so simple, so pointed that he found himself at a loss for words.

            "You aren't what I want."

            All at once he finds himself in front of her doorstep, the door shut in his face.  Chuck Bass is not used to doors being shut in his face.  He was used to them being opened.  His mouth is dropped into a soft o and as the irony of his rejection settles he snaps it shut and lets it settle into a more comfortable scowl.

            With a succinct exhale he turns on his heel and walks away.  His pride would not allow him to linger outside her door like the jilted lover he was.

            He refused to be the Stanley to her Stella.  He had sunk to his knees once and would not do it again.

"You need to get back together," Nate pleads to Chuck as they walk from school, falling into step beside him.  Chuck tenses his jaw and replies, "Don't count on that, Nathaniel.  Our heroine has made up her mind."

            "It's terrible."

            "It's not my fault you decided to take her under your comforting wing," he drawls.  He draws a cigarette out of his pocket and lights up.  "You did this to yourself."

            "She needs a friend," Nate defends.  "I just didn't know that being her friend would entail watching old Audrey Hepburn movies."

            "Don't tell me it actually surprised you," Chuck says slowly, taking a drag of his cigarette.  "You dated her for, what, ten years?"

            "Eight," Nate corrects.

            "Exactly my point, you were with her for nearly a decade.  How were you not aware of her obsession with old Hollywood?"

            "I was aware of it," Nate defends and Chuck can see that he feels cornered.  There is nothing Nate hates more than being challenged.  "I just never realized how deep it was."

            "Didn't she rope you into this while you two were enjoying each other's company?"

            "I always got out of it," Nate responds.  "I guess that a perk of being the boyfriend.  As the friend, though…"

            "Now you know what I went through," Chuck replies. 

            "You would watch the movies with her?"

            Chuck nods and replies, "Of course I did, Nathaniel.  I was the friend."

            "Let me guess, we're watching Breakfast at Tiffany's," Chuck drawled, spread out on Blair's couch.  She threw him a scowl over her shoulder and retorted, "I am not that predictable, Bass.  We are watching something different."

            "What is it?"

            "Funny Face."

            He rolled his eyes and asked, "This is you not being predictable?"

            "You've never seen it," she answered.  "I asked Nate."

            "How would Nate know what I have seen and not?"

            She shrugged and told him, "He's your best friend."

            "That proves nothing, and you are being painfully predictable.  You should have picked something like One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.  That would have been unpredictable."

            Blair wrinkled her nose and tossed over her shoulder, "Jack Nicholson makes me uncomfortable.  Besides, he is no Fred Astaire."

            "Let me guess, Fred Astaire is in this movie."

            She nodded happily.

            "Predictable," he said.

            "Just be quiet and watch the movie," she chided, settling onto the couch beside him. 

            The movie began and Chuck spat, "Don't tell me that is Fred Astaire."

            "You don't know who Fred Astaire is?"  Blair gasped, aghast at the notion that anyone could not recognize the legend immediately.

            "He looks like he's sixty."

            "But I bet he performs like someone half his age."

            He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Does Nate know about this complex of yours?  Lusting after men twice your age?  Why settle for someone popping Viagra when there are so many hot blooded ones available."

            She caught the subtle fanning of his ego and retorted, "I have no intention of riding the horny pony.  Now, be quiet and watch the movie.  You're missing pivotal moments."

            "I doubt there are too many pivotal moments in this," he said under his breath.  Blair looked at him pointedly and said, "If you don't talk for the rest of the movie I will let you make the selection for the next movie night  So, no talking."

            "Next?"

            She only smiled in response.

He should have seen it coming.

One day Nate is complaining about having to be with Blair and then he is a fixture on her side.  His hand goes to the small of her back in a manner that seems friendly at the start but grows more possessive with each time it touches the stiff material of her high-waisted skirt. 

It shouldn't have surprised him, the way that Nate stepped in to be her leading man, but he still found himself stopping for a moment when he first saw them kiss.  It was entirely wrong, the scene in front of him.  Yet, it was exactly what he expected.

She hadn't written him in, after all.

He walks up to them and claps a hand on Nate's shoulder, breaking the lovers apart.  Looking at Blair he asks, "What won you over, Nathanial?  The movies or what you two did afterwards?"

"Back off, man," Nate threatens.

Chuck grins at the Soprano tone of the scene unfolding before him and holds up his hands in resignation.  "Relax, Nathaniel, I'm not here to cause any trouble."

"Let's go, Nate," Blair says softly, threading her arm through his.  "I don't want to be late for class."

They walk away and the scent of her perfume hangs in the air. 

Her birthday comes and he thinks that he has a chance.  Her last birthday had worked to his advantage, after all.  Nate shows up this time, though.  His friend is no longer entranced by the grim glamour of Brooklyn and he dutifully picks up what Blair put on hold at Harry Winston.  He kisses her at the right moment, says the perfect thing, and her smile lights up her entire face.

He would believe she was happy if he hadn't caught her staring at him while an old Frank Sinatra song played in the background.

He walks towards her and asks her for a dance while he slips an arm around her waist.

"That wasn't a question," she scoffs.

"No, it wasn't."

They are close, too close for decency's sake, but Nate has made his first disappearance of the night and everyone is too engrossed in themselves to even notice them, so Chuck pulls her in a fraction of an inch closer.  He can smell the powdery scent of her skin.

"Did you see Nate's present?" She baits, untangling her arm from his neck to show him the bracelet.  Chuck takes a hold of her wrist and kisses her pulse point, just above the bracelet.

"Stop," she says softly, pulling away.

"I could give you so much more than bracelets," he murmurs.

"Maybe I only want bracelets," she counters.

"But you don't.  You've always wanted more."

"I love him," she told Chuck, rifling through the dresses at Chanel. 

Chuck Bass looked at her with interest.  "Do you?  I can't see I didn't see it coming."

"I love him and I need you to convince him that he loves me, too."

"Isn't that something you should do, Waldorf?"  Chuck asked.  "Don't tell me you've lost your touch."

"Don't be ridiculous," she told him, holding up a dress to her frame.

"It's too boxy," Chuck told her, grabbing another dress and handing it to her.  "Try this one."

She studied at it for a moment and then looked up at him, "I have not lost my touch, Chuck.  I just want you to plant the seed."

"Plant the seed?"

"I know he loves me.  I just think he needs a little push."

"Why don't you tell him you love him?"

She shook her head profusely before telling him, "That is out of the question."

"Why?"

"He has to say it first."

"And what if he doesn't?"

Her hand froze above the hanger and she looked at him, her eyes wide with fear.  "He has to."  She laughed a bit and said, "Chuck, he just has to."

"You've always wanted more," he repeats and he knows he's right when she turns her head.

"I'll settle for now.  It will happen, one day."

"No it won't."

She looks at him and he tells her, "He will never love you like I do."

He takes her silence as an agreement.

Nate returns and she leaves his arms, but he can see a change in her demeanor.  She doesn't smile as much and when she turns her head as Nate drops his lips to hers, something in his stomach stirs.

She may not have planned on a rival for her affections, but Chuck Bass was never one to follow the rules.

"How are you going to get Blair back?"  Serena asks one day, walking into Chuck's room.

"What do you care?"

"She's my best friend, Chuck," she points out.  "She is my  best friend and you are my brother, kind of.  I want you both to be happy."

Chuck thinks of Blair stationed at the side of her Prince Charming and frowns.  Blair had gotten what she wanted, the story book ending.

"Are you even listening to me?"  Serena asks.

"Unfortunately," Chuck drawls.  "What you fail to see, sister, is that Blair is perfectly happy."

"That's a lie and you know it," Serena argues.  He doesn't answer, only shrugs and turns away.

"You could win her back."

"How?" Chuck asks her, looking her in the eye now. "How do you propose I do that?"

"She still loves you.  Even after all the crap you pulled, she loves you."

"I know she does," Chuck answers.  "Could I really make her happy, though?"

"Oh, stop being the martyr," Serena scoffs with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm not being a martyr, Serena."

"Yes, you are," she insists. "If you really cared so much about Blair's feelings you wouldn't have abandoned her in Tuscany."

"I abandoned her at the airport, not the country," Chuck defends airily.

"That is exactly my point.  You are what you are Chuck, and caring about others' feelings is not who you are."

"I love her," Chuck points out in a voice that almost sounds dejected.

"I'm not saying that you don't love Blair because I know that you do.  All I am saying is that you are not someone who tiptoes around others' feelings.  That's who you are Chuck, so don't try to make yourself into some caring guy.  It's fake and she will see right through it."

"You're wrong," Chuck tells her.  "You're wrong because I am that person you say that I cannot be.  I am for her."

She moves around her room restlessly but his eyes do not follow her.  He stares at the same spot on her carpet, a slight discoloration setting it apart from the rest of the floor.  He imagines it is a bit of make-up, or a liquor stain from her more rebellious days.

"Prom is coming," Serena notes.

            "Yeah."

            "You know, she has this prom book she-"

            "Keeps under bed," Chuck finishes. "Yeah, I know.  She used to always show me it during our movie nights."

            Serena stops pacing and looks at him, her lips turning up into a grin.  "I think I have an idea."

"I've dreamt of this day since I was twelve," Blair trills, looking at her reflection in the mirror as Dorota fixes her hair.

            "You look beautiful, Ms. Blair."

            "I'm nervous," Blair admits frantically, laughing a bit.  "You know, everything has gone too perfectly.  I feel like something is bound to go wrong."

            "You are Waldorf, Ms. Blair.  Everything supposed to go right."

            Blair's lips turn into a brilliant smile and she nods gratefully. "Yes, you're right Dorota, you are absolutely right."

            "When does Mr. Nate come?"

            "He should be here soon," Blair says, "which is why you need to finish my hair."

            "Oh, yes Ms. Blair, yes."

            Her stomach curls uncomfortably as she gazes at her perfection.  Something seems off, even as near perfection stares back at her.  A soft voice in the back of her mind whispers the source of this discomfort but she pushes it away without another thought.  It would not do for her to think of such things on her special night.

            "Blair, Nate is here," Eleanor says from the doorway, looking at her daughter for a moment afterwards.  "Blair, you have too much blush on."

            "It will look good in pictures," Blair insists.

            "You look like a clown."  She sighs and says, "Anyway, let's go.  You shouldn't keep Nate waiting."

            She nods her head indiscernibly and catches Dorota's eye in the mirror before rising.  Dorota gives an almost undetectable tilt of her head and a silent understanding is passed between the two of them.  It is a reassuring notion to Blair that she at least has one person on her side, even if it is only a housemaid.

            She leaves her room and descends the stairs.  Nate is waiting at the bottom of the stairs and she can't help but think how the moment mirrors the iconic one from Titanic.  She is Rose, walking down to the Jack in his dapper tux.  She also can't help but think of how that had all ended.

            "You look beautiful," he tells her, pulling her into a gentle hug. "You're glowing."

            "My mother told me I looked like a clown," she whispers with a hint of a grin.

            "Nonsense," he replies and when she looks at his eyes they are so sincere that all thoughts of their sinking are dispelled.

"Tonight is going to be perfect," she insists and he squeezes her hand in response.

"Now, you two have a good time," Eleanor says smoothly, patting her daughter's arm.  "Try not to get in too much trouble.  And Blair, make sure to not ruin your dress."

"I won't," Blair assures her a bit sourly.  "Good bye, mother."

            Blair and Nate walk out to the limo and as he gallantly opens the door for her, she has no doubt that tonight would be a night to remember.

"I feel bad scheming against our friend," Serena says as her and Chuck sit at one of the tables at prom.  Serena is glancing around nervously while Chuck slowly drains his cup on punch.

            "This was your idea, Van der Woodsen."

            "I know," she says with a flit of her hand.  "I still feel bad."

            "So, you'll take Nate and I'll take Blair.  That's the plan, right?"

            "Yes, that is the plan."

            Chuck looks at her and for a moment she can see the hesitation in his eyes.  "Do you think this will work?"

            "It's worth a shot."

            She notices his posture straighten and knows they have arrived.

            "Where are they?"

            She follows his gaze and inhales deeply when she sees Blair.  It had to be killing him to see her like this.

            "She's beautiful," she notes and Chuck softly replies, "She always is."

            "Okay, it's time to put this plan to action," Serena says after a moment.  "I'm going to take Nate to the side and then you get Blair.  Okay?"

            He nods, his eyes not leaving Blair.  "Okay."

            He stays seated and watches Serena flounce over, taking a hold of Nate's arm and pulling him away.  He is surprised to see that Blair doesn't even put up a fight.  All she does is nod and then look away from them the moment they start moving.  She is looking around and he idly wonders if she is looking for him.  Never the one to stay in the dark, he stands up and makes his way towards her.  Glancing at his watch, he sees he is right on time.

            "Waldorf," he drawls.

            "Oh, it's you," she retorts.  "I didn't expect you to show up.  Are you here to spike the punch?"

            "I wouldn't waste my booze on something like that."

            "Oh, of course not," she answers.

            "Come with me," he says, taking her arm.

            "Why would I go anywhere with you?"  She spits, jerking her arm away.

            "Can you just trust me for five minutes?  You know I would never do anything to hurt you."

            "Hurt no, scheme, maybe."

            "I promise you, the only scheming I am doing lately is for your behalf."

            She props her hands on her hips and retorts, "Oh, really?"

            "Come with me."

            She hesitates for a moment but ends up following him.

            "This had better be good, Bass."

            He doesn't answer, only took her arm and pulled her out into the night.

            "Chuck, where are we going?"  He stops in front of a carriage and she stares at it for a moment before asking, "Chuck, what is this?"

            He grins and answers, "It's a carriage, Blair.  I believe it is page six of your prom book."

            "Page seven," she answers softly.  "I can't believe you remembered."

            "I remember everything, Blair."

            She stares at him and he wants to kiss her so bad that it hurts, but he doesn't.  Instead he moves forward and asks, "Do you want to go for a ride?"

            "Nate-"

            "Serena is taking care of Nate."

            Blair blinks rapidly, coming to the realization that she has fallen into the scheming web of Chuck and surprisingly Serena, but she finds herself not caring.  Instead, she feels her feet move and her hand finding its way to Chuck's arm as she climbed into the carriage.  He takes the seat next to her and the carriage begins to move.

            "What else do you remember?"  She asks after a moment.

            "What do you want to know?"

            She grins softly and looks down at her lap.  "You're turning into quite the romantic, Chuck.  I don't know how to take it."

            "I remember that you like carriages because your dad used to take you on carriage rides when you were little."

            "Every Saturday," she says.

            "I also remember that you wanted to go on a carriage ride for prom and as far as I know, Nate did not plan one.  I thought you deserved your carriage ride."

            "Not everyone can have a memory like yours, Chuck," she teases, but he can see the serious light in her eyes.

            "It wasn't a matter of his not remembering, Blair.  He didn't know."

            "You don't know that," she replies unconvincingly.

            "He'll never know you like I do, Blair."

            She turns away from him and gazes out into the street, but he can see the trembling of her hands.  Gingerly he takes them into his own and feels something akin to butterflies in his stomach when she does not pull away.

            "Blair," he says softly and when she turns he sees that there are tear stains on her cheeks.

            "You have a way of weeding your way into everything."

            "I do," he agrees.

            "And I hate you for it," she says softly.  "I hate you because even after everything you did, I still love you."

            "Well, I guess I'll have to hate you, too," he tells her with a soft grin. "Because no matter how many times you push me away, I keep falling more in love with you."

            She looks so beautiful with her tear-filled eyes that he leans in and presses his lips softly against hers.  Chuck was not used to kissing gently but as her lips softly brush against his, he finds that it is actually quite nice.  She shifts a bit in her seat, the full skirt of her dress pushing against his leg, and her mouth molds to his. 

            "I love you," she murmurs against his lips and he whispers the same thing against hers.  Everything feels so simple, so right, that he can't understand why they hadn't come together earlier.

            "We should head back," he says, caressing her cheek.  "You have to continue your perfect prom."

            She nods.

            The carriage nears the banquet hall and he feels his stomach twist with the fear that what had transpired in the confines of the carriage would stay there.  His fears dispel, however, when Blair takes his hand outside of the carriage as they walk back in, their fingers interlaced.

            He stops, though, before they step in.  She looks at him in confusion and he tells her, "Nate is waiting, Waldorf."

            "Chuck, what-"

            "You have dreamt of this night for years, Blair.  And, whether I like it or not, all those dreams featured Nate, not me."

            "I didn't know better," she replies.

            "Well, tonight is all about that dream.  Go and claim your Prince Charming, I'll be waiting for you."

            She puts her arms around his neck and whispers, "Thank you."

            He lets her walk in before him and then watches her reunite with Nate.  Serena walks towards him with her eyebrows raised in question.

            "How did it go?"  She asks.

            He smiles a bit and tells her, "Well, I know that she loves me."

            "You always knew that," she says and rolls her eyes.

            "Well, this time I heard it from her own lips."

            "Then why is she back with Nate?"  Serena asks, turning her head to find the familiar forms dancing in a close embrace.

            "I told her to," Chuck says simply.

            "What?"

            "Her dream was to go to prom with Nate Archibald and I was not about to get in the way of that dream."

            "Is this you being a martyr again?"  She asks with a hint of a grin.

            "Yes," he replies, "I believe it is."

            "I'm proud of you, Chuck," she says after a moment.  "You know, I really am."

            Chuck spots Dan Humphrey coming their way and frowns.  "Dan Humphrey is coming this way.  Please go dance with him or something so that I don't have to listen to him talk."

            Serena smirks and says, "I guess I can do that."

            She turns and greets Dan with a quick peck on the cheek, leading him out to the dance floor. 

            Feeling more content than he has in probably years, he turns and makes his way out.  Just as he nears the exit, a small hand touches his shoulder.

            "Aren't you going to dance?"  Blair asks with a small grin.

            "I wouldn't want to make Nate's dancing skills look below my own, which they are, by the way."

            When she asks him again it is more of a demand than a question.  He acquiesces and follows her to the dance floor.  She looks so beautiful in her gown that he can hardly tear his eyes from her.

            "Did you talk to Nate?"  He asks.

            "He understood," she tells him.  "Says he saw it coming."

            "I told you, Waldorf.  We're inevitable."

            She grins and rests her head on his chest, their bodies swaying gently to the music.  His lips brush against her hair and she makes a throaty sound that makes his eyes lose focus.

            "You have no idea how much I love you, Blair."

            She looks up and the looks in her eyes mean more to him than any amount of words could.  "I love you."

            "Thank you for writing me in," he teases and she chuckles.

            "You know, Chuck, I found it never really was a choice.  You were always a part, I just didn't know it yet."

A/N:  Did you like it?  Let me know!