Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to Cecily von Zeigesar and The CW.

"Children," Blair mumbled once the last of their party guests had left for the evening. She had turned around upon seeing the last guest off to see that the main room and dining area were in shambles. She knew that if she cared to look further, the den and the entertainment room were no less messy. Thank goodness for maid service she thought as she bent down to pick up several pieces of wrapping paper that were still left over from the great gift exchange.

She smiled as she looked over at Chuck's pile of gifts. He'd had made out like a bandit this year. For this being his first real Christmas, he had been more than a little overwhelmed by the generosity of the people in his life. Nathaniel had always come through for him with the one Christmas gift that he received each year, and occasionally if Blair and Chuck were on speaking terms during the holidays she would give him one as well, but nobody else ever had. For him to get so many gifts today had been overwhelming for him. He was going to make sure that Eugenia sent proper thank you notes to everyone as soon as they returned from the holiday break.

"What was that, Blair?" Chuck inquired as he stepped up behind her and gathered her into his arms so that he could pull her close while effectively stopping her from cleaning up. He knew how much the colossal mess was bothering her, but Eugenia had told him that she had hired people to come in the next day to clean it up so she'd only have to deal with it for the rest of the day. If he had his way, they'd be making their way the bedroom so she wouldn't have to see the mess for the rest of the evening.

"Nothing," she responded, trying to cover up what she said.

He smirked in response. He'd heard what she said, but he wanted to give her a way out of the conversation if she wasn't comfortable speaking about it. He knew that he needed to give her time to process that new information. In reality, he knew that he needed it as well. Perhaps they were moving a little too fast.

"I know I haven't mentioned it, but you look beautiful in this Valentino," he stated as he kissed her bare shoulder. He could feel her shiver in his arms and smirked because he knew that she wasn't responding to any chill in the air.

"Thank you," she whispered softly as she molded herself against him as she dropped the paper still in her hands.

"And I am very sorry about what happened in our office. I promise to call the contractors first thing in the morning to set up time for them to soundproof our bedroom, the office, and any other room that you may feel the need to ravish me in before we host our next party," he responded as his lips found the nape of her neck.

She turned around in his arms and slapped him upside the back of his head.

"Ouch, Blair that hurt," Chuck stated as he released her and began to rub his head.

"It was supposed to," she snapped, "That outburst you caused was humiliating."

"Nobody said a word about it," he stated defensively.

"They were still thinking about it," she stated as she slapped him again, this time on his shoulder.

"Stop abusing me," he stated as he captured her wrists and pinned them to her sides as he took a step closer to her so that he was pressed up against her. They both moaned slightly at the sudden friction, but he could see that Blair was trying to ignore the sensation as she was still fired up about what had happened.

"During our next party, I am locking that office door so that nobody can go in, including us," she stated forcefully.

"Okay," he agreed.

He was pretty sure that wouldn't stop them. They'd find somewhere else to ravish each other. It was the nature of their relationship. While their conversations could rival those of the best and brightest intellectual minds of their generation, they were also two incredibly passionate people who were incredibly passionate with each other. He'd realized that very early on. She on the other hand was convinced that after the honeymoon phase finally wore off, their sex life would calm down.

"At least I got to wear my Valentino dress," she stated as she pulled away so that she could spin around like a ballerina, her dress flaring out as she went, "I would have been disappointed if I hadn't."

"I know," he nodded. While he had told her she'd have to wear the costume all day, he had never intended to follow through. Her mind worked just like his. He knew she'd figure out some way to convince him that she could change. He just never thought it would be because she publicly humiliated herself.

"Are you okay?" she inquired as she caught him deep in thought for a moment. Her eyes conveyed the concern she felt. She hadn't forgotten about what had happened in his office before her embarrassing outburst.

"Not really," he admitted as he shook his head. He knew that she could see that his mind was drifting back to the depression he had felt earlier that day, "I put on a brave face for you today, but inside I'm still a mess. I didn't expect today to be so hard."

"Maybe we should have taken a tropical vacation away from our family and friends," she concluded. After all, it had been his conversation with Lily that triggered his depression.

"No," he shook his head, "I loved our New York Christmas. I hope we make this a holiday tradition."

"I think next year my father hopes to have a Parisian Christmas," she frowned, "He was talking on and on today about how much he'd wished that we had joined him and Roman at home in the vineyard like I had originally planned."

"I thought you said we were going to have a tropical vacation," he replied.

"After Christmas, yes," she nodded, "We were going to fly to Fiji after we finished celebrating."

"Maybe we can work out a compromise," he offered, "Christmas one year in New York City, the next in France, and then the following year on some exotic beach in paradise."

"That's three Christmases you're planning," she pointed out.

"Well, we've already done the first one," he amended, "We've got two left before we can get back to the New York Christmas once again."

"You really are planning our future, aren't you," she stated proudly.

"More like hoping for the future," he offered as he took her left hand and gave it a gentle kiss, "I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it."

"Chuck Bass, keeping a promise," she teased as she reached out to hug him, "That will be a first."

"There have been a lot of firsts for the both of us," he pointed out as he pulled her closer to him.

"If you start listing them all, we'll be here for days," she smirked, "And I for one can think of a more useful way to spend our time."

"Blair Waldorf, are you trying to seduce me?" Chuck inquired with his best southern accent. Blair couldn't help but giggle. He sounded more British than southern.

"Why, yes, Mister Bass, I believe I am," she replied, trying to mimic his accent without the British twinge.

He cringed at her attempt, "You sound Canadian."

"Canadian!" she squealed as she slapped him once more, "At least I don't sound British."

"I love you," he stated as he caught her wrists again. That was three times she'd slapped in less than five minutes. Even though they were meant to be playful (well the slap to the head wasn't) he knew he'd start to bruise if she kept up with her abuse.

"I love you too," she replied as she tried to free her arms, "Will you be okay? I had hoped that today would be the cherry on top of your perfect Christmas. It was anything but."

"Parts of it were perfect," he replied as his lips turned upwards in the beginnings of a smile, "The part where you woke me up was perfect in that sexy piece of fabric you tried to pass off as lingerie."

"I'll happily go put it back on, if it will keep a smile to your face," she stated.

"Can't," he shook his head, "I flambéed it while you were applying your makeup this morning, while you tried to sneak out of wearing Mrs. Claus's costume."

"How could you do that?" she shrieked.

"It marked your skin!" he exclaimed in contempt for the damage it had caused. He'd seen the faint beginnings of bruises earlier as they made love in his office. If he'd been in a different mood, he would have addressed them then. "That is unacceptable. The only thing that should mark your skin is me."

"Should I be getting a tattoo of your name across my stomach so that you can mark your territory?" she teased as his touch against her sides began tickling.

"I have my own ways of marking you," he stated as he began to lightly suck at her neck.

"A hickey," she smirked as she lightly shoved him away, "That's so tacky."

"Chuck Bass is anything but tacky," he stated defensively as he pulled her to him roughly.

"So true," she agreed as she kissed him, "And for the record, you have left your marks. I feel them every day, the feel of your hands skimming my skin, your lips grazing my body, your flesh pressed against mine. Those are the marks that I cherish most. When I'm in class and my mind wanders, it always wanders to you and our mornings, noons, and nights spent together."

"You're never going to have your fill of me," he stated proudly as their bodies pressed against each other. Her hands were still at her sides as he refusing to relinquish any hold he had on her. "I know you keep waiting for this honeymoon period of ours to end, but it's not going to happen. This is who we are, Blair."

"I'm starting to realize that," she nodded as she felt them begin to sway against each other. Her breathing was beginning to quicken as the fire within her began to spark to life.

"If you wanted to dance, Blair, all you had to do was ask," he stated as she put her arms around his neck as he began to guide her around the living room to an imaginary sound. Her eyes closed as she took in the moment. Somehow this felt more intimate than the moments they shared in his office earlier. When she looked into his eyes, the pain from earlier seemed to be melting away with each moment she spent in his arms.

As he swept her passed the stereo, he quickly turned it on so that they had actual music to listen to. Bing Crosby's 'White Christmas' began to play. He smiled as he looked out their window. It was still snowing lightly. His Christmas felt complete. His heart felt as if it was on the mend. He had things to work through, but he'd get through them with Blair at his side.

As the song ended, Chuck released her and guided her towards their bedroom. "Now go put that Mrs. Claus costume back on. Santa has had a long day of distributing presents, and he wants you to help him recuperate."

Blair laughed before she happily complied. She would make sure that their holiday traditions always included the costume. She loved what it brought out in him.

The End . . . for now anyways. You all know me better than that. I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to.