AWARENESS IS A TENDER GIFT

Chuck steeled himself, taking a deep breath, before grabbing the doorknob and twisting. The door slowly swung open before him, revealing Blair laying in fœtal position on the lavishly laid bed. Her face, though, that was what had him clutching the knob a little tighter.

Blair Waldorf should never be so unhappy, he decided on the spot.

But his little fighter straightened upon the bed, shooting a glacial near-glare his way. Underneath the veneer, though, he saw the vulnerability she hid within. "I'm not in the mood, Chuck." As she pulled at the rich sheets beneath her fingers, he could tell it was an unconscious action. "It's pretty much the worst birthday ever."

"Maybe it can be salvaged," Chuck said as he stepped inside the room at last, shutting the door behind him and slowly revealing the box he had been hiding behind his back all the while. Proffering it, he sat near her.

He could almost feel her flushing as she carefully averted her face. "Is that our sex tape?" she said with an inordinately fake amount of cynicism.

As Chuck cracked open the flat velvet box to her widening eyes, he felt… pride, so much pride. What would she like?

She would like what she wanted most.

"It's the Ericksson Beamon necklace," Blair stated needlessly, in a breath that felt so cramped it was a wonder she wasn't choking on the words. Looking up, she found Chuck smiling one of those rare sweet smiles that she'd only discovered last night. He took out the magnificent piece of jewelry, looking for all the world like he wanted her to wear it. "No, I couldn't." Oh my God.

"Yes, you can." His voice sounded so unlike his fierce life-battling one, so… calm, unguarded, as he leaned forward to clasp the delicate thing around her throat.

The necklace felt cool, biting, upon first touch. Blair felt her skin tighten, her nipples peak unexpectedly, her breaths come faster. As Chuck artfully arranged the tiny lilies in a perfect circle against her skin, she glanced up at their reflection in the dressing mirror nearby and… God, Chuck was being so awfully gentle, so genuine… taking care of her…

Let me go, she nearly whimpered in her confusion, yet all she really wanted was to cling to him till she couldn't bear to hold on anymore.

She opted for staying right where she was, frozen, loving the feel of his fingers on her skin, afraid he'd take them away if she moved, wanting to take them away all the same, and looked away, flustered. What did she want?

She felt his gaze in the mirror, his expression still just as open as before, and she felt… privileged… jealous… Shaking her head, Blair forced herself to dislike him.

"Something this beautiful," Chuck began earnestly, quietly – Chuck was not a quiet one, "deserves to be seen on someone worthy of its beauty."

His words inexplicably brought fresh tears to her eyes, clutched at her throat, and she was rendered speechless. It'll be fine, baby, he'd said.

Adding to her inner pandemonium, he added, "I really am sorry."

That genuine apology, like everything else, again. It pulled at her, so much warmth fusing in her chest. Touching his warmed present with feeling-unfeeling fingertips, she felt him gaze at her, at the necklace around her throat, at the beauty around her. When he plucked at another lily that needed no straightening at all, she caught his hand lightly… felt his mouth press softly on her shoulder… then on her mouth… sweetly, just sweetly. Blair wanted to cry.

… you spend the night with me…

Chuck's kisses expected nothing, yet as they grew deeper, Blair experienced a keen need for him… more than she'd ever needed anyone's tenderness before.

#

She was kissing him back. There were so many moments when she could have said no. Could have scoffed at that fair bit of inspiration that had had him suddenly sprouting pretty words out loud. That had definitely not been planned. Could have thrown him on his ass with his necklace. Could have smacked him silly for assuming she would let him kiss her in the first place. He supposed he should feel lucky none of that had happened, but frankly he was just too busy feeling as if he should pinch and smack himself back into the Plan of destroying Blair Waldorf.

"Chuck…"

She was kissing him back. Her hand was buried in his hair, holding him in place, and she wasn't going anywhere. Her breaths filled his ears. She was pressing her body against his.

He should have stopped and cleared his head somehow.

Could have, for sure, at some point before she stretched into him, cradled him between her legs, bit his lip, and unbuttoned his priceless dress shirt.

No, he was done for afterward.

Her mouth was hungry on him, her eyes were bright, her fingers nimble and possessive. Chuck leaned up and captured her mouth with his, flipping them over so he was on top. There, he began a slow, driving rhythm against her despite their layers of clothing. If anything, the friction made it all the more maddening.

"Chuck…"

He moved so that he could stir her hair with a breath, and pushed a dark strap off her creamy shoulder. When he spoke, he knew his words would land like a caress on her skin. "Spend the night with me," he murmured into her ear, shuddering as she closed her legs around him.

Feeling her moan wash through her was one of the most erotic things he'd ever experienced.

"Please," he said, barely aware of anything but her.

For mere answer, Blair pulled his dress shirt out of his pants, and he pulled back to find her smouldering eyes locked on his and tiny, dainty fingers taking care with every button. When she was done and had slid his open shirt off his shoulders, Blair smiled into his eyes and accepted his kiss. "It's my birthday, you know," she teased suddenly as she pulled away, almost condescending.

"It is," he agreed, and wondered at her next move. Would she up and leave him high and dry – I've proved my theory that you'll have sex with anything that moves. Or would she–

Sink her nails into his back and lick his nipple? That she did.

"It's my day and my night, right?"

"Uh… huh," he uttered with difficulty. Difficult, when all the blood in his head went to his… other head.

She scratched.

Oh God, she scratched.

Moaning and arching into her, Chuck barely heard her next words. "I still think you're a bastard." But then she stroked down his chest, tenderly dipping down and into his pants. "But…" There, her hands trembled, and he looked up feverishly, finding her biting her lip, her lashes brushing her cheeks. "Thank you for… for the necklace. It's beautiful."

Suddenly Chuck found the room much smaller than it ought to feel. "You're… you're welcome," he choked out hoarsely. Reaching up to stroke a lily, he thought more than. Swallowing as her eyes met his, he quietly added, "I knew you'd love it. You'd be worthy of it."

Her eyes searched his a moment, unbelieving, he knew. For that, he wanted to punch anyone who'd ever made her doubt her own fine features, that cute upturned nose, that doll-like face, those doe-like eyes, that rich chocolate hair that went on forever… His hand drifting down, he found the zipper on her dress, at her side, and tugged it down. He kissed each inch of skin he exposed, and peeled the dress from her, covering her again once he was done. She sighed, welcoming him.

"I don't get you, Chuck," she whispered suddenly in the silence as he idly traced the contour of a breast in slowly decreasing circles.

Glancing up, Chuck frowned and stopped what he was doing. "What do you mean?"

Blair bit her lip, then averted her face, and he knew he'd somehow hurt her along the way. "You have sex with me, then tell me off. You ignore me. You buy me this." She touched the gleaming platinum thoughtfully. "And here we are, naked again." She locked eyes with him and almost unconsciously stroked his leg with hers – but she had to be aware of the sensation. "I just don't get it. why, Chuck?"

What exactly could he answer to that? If he had to be completely honest with himself, this wasn't even about a bet or revenge anymore. This arousal wasn't about playing the all-time best porn on a loop in his mind. She fit him like a glove, inside and out, plain and simple. It was the only reason she affected him like this. "I don't…" He cleared his throat, utterly frozen before her, but whatever he'd meant to say he couldn't recall anymore.

"I hated you," Blair whispered, her eyes pleading with him for something he couldn't understand. "You treated me like…" a goddess "God, I actually thought… but then…" I insulted her "and now…" I want to be inside her again, just once more. She sobered, any remnant of emotion gone from her features. Dignity infused her voice despite their advanced states of undress and the proximity of their lower bodies. "I'm not supposed to be with you."

"I know," Chuck replied dully. Not in a million years would he have envisioned being not once, not twice, but possibly three times with Blair Waldorf who belonged to his best friend, Prince Golden Fucking Charming.

He wasn't jealous. Not at all. Just… this was a novelty, the repeat performances, and besides he'd never liked sharing what pleased him.

"I don't love you," she stated firmly, as firm as she could, so he could understand perfectly her meaning.

I don't love you either, he was supposed to say. Chuck settled for nodding since his voice had gone on a vacation and she seemed to expect some kind of response.

"I don't even like you," she resumed, then amended quickly, "I mean, not that way. Not a friend."

"An ally," he supplied, helpful though he felt like something had kicked the shit out of him.

She seemed relieved at his choice of words, and repeated, "An ally. Who deflowered." She nodded.

He felt the need to clarify. "Last night." Lest she had forgotten after her holy trip.

She exhaled a nervous chuckle. "Seems so long ago."

"Right," Chuck murmured, toying with one of her pert breasts with a digit. "I just haven't slept since."

Conversationally – though Chuck could still detect tremulous awkwardness in her speech – she whispered, "Must have been the champagne."

Smiling lopsidedly at her little joke, Chuck bent to taste the bud. As she sighed, relaxing beneath his touch, he began rubbing intimately against her, and then leaned up to whisper, "How about an arrangement, Waldorf?"

She purred, and he knew she was smiling right then without even needing to see her face. God, he knew her purr inside and out. "What sort of arrangement, Bass?"

Chuck flipped them over, delighting in her little gasp of pleasure when he pushed up to penetrate her. Pumping once or twice, he smirked when she moaned the loss of friction. Felt her tight walls contract even tighter around him in irritation after a moment since he held her immobile over him. Chuck sat up, bringing their chests flush, and set her loose on him, but not before whispering wickedly, "You know exactly what sort."