Title: Mr. Not-So-Perfect
Author: Isabelle
Rating: PG -13
Summary: Blair has a revelation in Season 2 about her feeling towards Chuck.
Spoilers: None really, all of S1
A/N: Fluff because fluff makes me happy.
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For the record (and in case anyone asks) I, Blair Waldorf, didn't really fall in love with Charles Bartholomew Bass until a year after I slept with him. I tried, actually I desperately tried not to. I don't think I've ever tried so hard at something in my life.
I mean, let us be honest here. He's not really the guy you can bring home. He drinks entirely too much, he smokes constantly, he dresses… well lets just say sometimes he clashes. The poor guy continues walking proudly as if Pucci and Juicy were ok to be mixed. He's hairy. After years of looking at Nate's smooth chest I don't really know what to do with Chuck's hairier one. I attempted to trim it as he slept one day but that just led to sex. Actually most of our activities lead to sex.
But sex is not the point.
Back to why he's absolutely not what a girl like me would like in a man.
Ok, so you can't really take him anywhere because he's slept with half the help, they know him by name and bank card. He's slept with half the single and married mothers at our schools. Horrible!
He probably carries diseases.
He snores. And he insists on wearing silk pajamas to bed. I often wonder if he's gay… until we have sex and all those thoughts evaporate from my mind because Chuck Bass is anything but gay. So not gay.
The silk pajamas wouldn't be that bad if I also didn't wear them. So when he holds me we slip and slide together and it becomes a mess and I end up irritated and he ends up turned on.
He wants sex all the time. All the freaking time. He's ready to go five minutes after we're done. It's ridiculous!
How can a relationship work like this?
He doesn't study or give a crap about his future. Of course the fact that he's the son of a billionaire helps out his cause and I know we'll never starve or anything like that but still. You understand.
He doesn't really have friends because most people can't stand him so he calls me all the time. Honestly! He wants to know what I'm doing, he wants to know what I'm wearing, he wants to know what I think, etc.
He wants to know entirely too many things. Nate was the opposite and it takes time to get adjusted, you understand.
Of course, there are things that are not bad.
Not that bad.
I supposed I can tell him to pick me a dress at Bendel's and I know I won't end up looking like a wet eggplant. I will look classy, elegant, and right down stunning.
He does look at me like he's ready to eat me alive. Literally. He leers and his eyes tell me he wants me naked now. Which is intrusive and offensive in it-self but when he does it my stomach does a sort of dance and I can't control it.
He knows when I'm itching to fight and he always steps up to plate. I want to tug his hair and he tugs mine. I want to slap him and he kisses me.
It's tumultuous. This can never work. It's a disaster.
My mother eyes him as if he was lint and he enjoys it.
He decides to once again host the "lost weekend" and I am pissed as hell. I know the rules, I know them very well. He thinks I'm being possessive and jealous but it's not true. I trust him. I don't trust the skanks he hires. When I break things off with him he laughs and watches me walk away, smoking.
Because I hate the smoking so much I turn back, yank the cigarette from his lips, and stomp on it. He looks at me as if he would like to see me naked.
He's turned on and I'm pissed as hell.
So yes, we have sex but I don't let him on for another round because I hate him and his stupid "lost weekend". I tell him to get lost and he does and I can hear him chuckling down the hallway.
He does call me on Saturday night and asks what I'm doing. I tell him he should ask me who I'm doing. Because I'm single, extremely attractive and my legs are well formed.
He shows up at my house ten minutes later looking extremely disheveled and panting. When he finds me painting my toe nails he pins me to the bed and we have amazing sex. Afterwards I yell at him because he got 'Rosy Pink Frost' nail polish all over my sheets.
I kick him out and do a grand show of being very upset. It also helps that Iz's second cousin is visiting from Chicago and he's into me. I agree to dinner at Kimono just to see if Chuck will show up, attempting to upstage me with a whore on each of his arms.
He does show, of course. He sits by himself and watches me, drinking his scotch.
I laugh harder, making sure I toss my hair and clap a few times. I'm having a great time.
When I go to the bathroom he follows me and we have sex in a stall. He tells me he doesn't want me near the idiot outside.
Evidently money talks because when we go back out Iz's cousin is missing. Since I'm half-bow legged from the bathroom-incident I decide to have desert with Chuck. I think he planned this from the start and I want to kick him but I think he likes it when I do that so I remain passive.
It's my birthday and I want to mix things up a bit. I don't put anything on hold and I can tell he's panicking. I act normal but I secretly tell Dorota I've been eying the new Mikimoto pearl collection. She tells me I should tell Mr. Chuck but I refuse to talk to Mr. Chuck because he's an arrogant pig and I hate him.
Serena throws me a party and I decide to wear red because red is so my color and I'm going to turn heads. I will hook up with a hot college guy and forget about Mr. Chuck and his petty jealousy attacks.
When it's 11:45pm and he still hadn't shown I decide I HATE Mr. Chuck and all that he is. So I start crying and screaming and a confused Serena leads me to a room and I lie in the bed wishing Chuck Bass meant nothing to me, that I didn't care that he didn't show up-
And that's when he sinks next to me and kisses my shoulder, something I know he loves to do.
I'm upset at him but there he is in a black suit with a red shirt and I smile because we match and we didn't even try. He's holding a box in his hand and I'm reminded of last year and I want to look at what's inside box. He shows it to me and it's the Mikimoto necklace and I love it and I tell him so.
I see relief in his eyes but I'm on top of him before I can see anything else in his eyes.
Our senior Homecoming is approaching and I know I became overwhelming and meddling. He lets me do what I want to do and for some reason this begins to bug me. Because he's supposed to be uncooperative, he's supposed to disappear for days; he's supposed to make my life a living hell. He doesn't and all this begin to boil inside of me.
Months pass by and I haven't smelled any perfume on him other than mine and no lipstick on his collar so naturally I become a bit irate. I start fights with him for no reason. I cry at night and I curse the day I kissed him in the limo a year ago.
He avoids me for a while – with a confused look on his face that Nate finds amusing. But finds his way back to me and I want to hit him with my Anatomy book because he's not supposed to be like this. He's supposed to be this great sex-partner teaching me things I will pass on to Mr. Perfect-somewhere-out-there.
He brings me flowers to attempt to appease me and I send him murderous look. He sends me gifts and I send them back to him with unhappy faces drawn over the cards.
He's desperate by the third week and begins to leave me notes. Real notes. Not text messages ('cause I've ignored them all).
Dear Blair,
I don't know what I did wrong. I don't know how to fix it unless you talk to me. Will you talk to me? Please let me know what I did wrong. And if I did something wrong I'm sorry, OK?
Chuck
I throw it away and write my thoughts on his little notes in my diary.
I get more of them.
Blair. This is ridiculous. Talk to me. Meet me in Room 512 during third period.
I leave him waiting.
I finally find one on my desk as I sit down for English. Serena looks innocent next to me and I glare at her.
Look. I would rather tell you this in person but you've practically hired bodyguards so you leave me no other choice but to tell you in paper. I am completely in love with you and I don't know what I'll do if you never talk to me again. There, I've said it. I know I'm not the guy you saw yourself spending the rest of your life with, and I know I'm not perfect. I know you hate that I smoke and I've stopped a bit. I've hardly gotten drunk since we've been 'together'. I know you don't like it when I gamble and you should just get over that because I'd never gamble with what really matters and that is your heart. So please, please, can you find it in yourself to forgive me? Just so you know this is the last note I will write you. I won't call you. I won't text you. I won't send you messages with underclassmen. This is it. Take me or leave me.
Love Chuck
p.s. I got accepted to Yale. I wanted to tell you but you shut the door on my face.
I have no idea what was said in English because the only thing my mind keeps repeating over and over is OMG I'M IN LOVE WITH CHUCK FUCKING BASS.
Everything else is a blank. I do dimly recall pulling out pink-lined paper and writing a note. I have Serena give it to him because I can't bear to look him in the eye because then he'll know that I know that we both know and it'll just be too embarrassing. Serena is not happy to be used as mule and I ignore her because who else can I give a love note to? Nate? Dan? Heh.
I try to avoid him after school but he's looking at me like I just gave in to a threesome and I hurry to catch a cab. He does show me a smile as I meet his eyes for one last time. Something must have been wrong with the sushi I had for lunch because it feels like it melted my stomach.
So here I am, three hours later, freezing and starring at the Pulitzer Fountain, counting the minutes. My shoes hurt a bit and I admit I should've worn flats instead of the Blahniks but they make my legs look sexy and sexy is me tonight.
I look at my watch and that's when I realize he's late. My heart falters a bit and I want to cry. He's not coming.
I guess declaration of love through school-notes is not his thing. Maybe I went too far. I am desperately thinking back on what I wrote.
Chuck, I love you too. Meet me at the place we first met so we can start over. 7pm and don't be late. Late means this is too much, too fast.
Ok. So I was a bit overdramatic. Just a bit. I continue staring at the sculpture and I realize that I have fallen in love with a guy who won't even meet me at a fountain. I feel like sobbing until Monday. Next Monday.
I turn to catch a cab and that's when I see him. He's standing outside of his limo, still in his school clothes minus the jacket and tie. His sleeves are rolled up and his hair looks like I might need to take him to get a haircut first thing in the morning.
He looks amazing and I want to hold him right now.
His hands are tucked in his pockets and he's not smirking, not smiling. He's just staring at me with that intense look that melted my panties a year ago and made me forget how to spell Nate.
"I thought you weren't coming," I say to him and I curse myself because my voice is slightly shaky.
He pushes himself off the limo and walks to me, hands still in pockets and still sporting that look.
"Why would you think that?"
And his voice is so very sexy that I think I might make a fool out of myself.
"Because…" I look around lost. "You weren't here."
"I arrived twenty minutes before seven. You didn't notice that I've been here for a while. I've been here waiting for you. Waiting for you to notice me."
I realize his words mean much more than time and place. He's been there for sometime. Sure, he messed up during the summer and I contemplated replacing his shampoo with Nair but he's been after me for a while. He's asked for forgiveness twenty times and he's saved me from my own self countless others. He's fallen asleep listening to me rant about Nate and he's left his call-girls because I was crying uncontrollably.
My Chuck is Mr. Not-So-Perfect but he's perfect for me.
"I love you. I push you away because I love you. Because you're supposed to be totally wrong for me and because you're completely right. Mr. Right that it."
He's gazing at me with those eyes that make me question their color. Are they green? Are they brown? Are they perfect?
I place my hand gently behind his neck and I thug at his hair. Because I want more, because I want him.
And he responds by kissing my nose and I smile.
"What as that for?" I ask and I'm smiling. Like an idiot.
He gives me my smile. The one he reserves for me.
"I love you and your nose," he whispers.
And I feel happy fluttering sensations in my stomach and they make me want to jump – perhaps in the fountain.
"I think your butterflies are contagious," I tell him.
"Are they?" and he drapes his arm around me and pulls me into him. I kinda melt against him because we fit just perfect.
"I can't believe you got into Yale," I tell him and I see a slight smugness about him.
"I had to," he responds and I give him a questioning look.
"I thought you wanted to get into Princeton," I smirk at him and this makes him remember.
"Went to Princeton. Not as enticing as Yale." He holds me closer. "Yale has that long-term appeal to it. I could be a life-long fan."
Yeah. I'm so in love with him it's sickening. He knows it too; this can't be good for his ego.
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The end.