"Chuck," Blair says, sitting down on Chuck's couch and primly smoothing out her skirt. "I think we need to have a little talk."

Chuck stares at her, the confusion on his face barely masked. He's still trying to figure out why a second ago he was pouring himself a glass of Scotch and then he turned around to Blair Waldorf stomping into his penthouse. He takes a sip of his drink, still watching her wearily. It isn't usual for them to talk; it's usual for them to quickly meet up, have sex, and then go their separate ways until next time. Chuck and Blair don't talk.

"Look," he begins slowly, sauntering towards her. Once he's within 5 feet of the brunette she holds up a hand, making him stop short, and then promptly points for him to have a seat in the armchair directly across from her. Chuck gives her a look, but then goes to do what she says. After a minute he waves his glass at her. "Well? Go on. Talk."

"This is a serious issue that I'm about to discuss with you," she begins solemn faced, and Chuck is already rolling his eyes. He's not accustomed to "serious issues", and anyway, Blair's "serious issues" are shit like she broke a heel or spilled something on her new blouse.

"Despite what you may think," he drawls, "I am not interested at the moment in the trials and tribulations of the Blair Waldorf lifestyle. I do not need to hear about how your last outfit was ruined or how you and Serena had a catfight the other night."

"No, no, no," Blair protests, shaking her head. "It's nothing like that. This is serious, Chuck."

Chuck rolls his eyes again, settling back into the chair. "Go on," he says again, his tone bored.

"The other day, when you and I..." she trails off, biting her lip and glancing away.

"When we fucked," Chuck finishes, taking another sip. "When we had sex. When we screwed. When I stuck my-"

"Yes," Blair hisses lowly, "when we did that. When we engaged in that activity, I seem to remember that you, Chuck Bass, did not pull out of me when you ejaculated." Her voice lowers, becoming slightly less impersonal. "I told you about that, Chuck."

"Indeed you did," Chuck agrees, nodding. He shrugs. "I was in the heat of the moment, Blair, you know. I saw Serena look in and I wasn't exactly thinking about where my cum was going, just that it needed to go somewhere-"

"God, Chuck," hisses Blair angrily. "You have to think about that stuff! Oh my god, what's wrong with you? Why didn't you put on a condom before we started? Are you really that stupid?"

"Wait a minute now." Chuck holds up a hand, insulted. "I don't remember you suggesting any sort of protection, little Miss Innocent. Aren't you on the pill or something?"

"No, Chuck, I'm not! And because of your lack of common sense to use the proper protection, we may quite possibly have a little "us" running around here in nine months!"

Chuck grimaces at the thought of that. He does not like kids. Especially kids that could turn out like Blair. That could turn out like him. He doesn't even like himself.

"Yeah, you bastard, the thought's not so appealing is it?" Blair spits. "Imagine how I feel."

"Well it is your fault," Chuck responds. "You know I like to do it raw, it was your job to remind be that you prefer it done with a condom." He chuckles. "But oh, wait a minute. As I recall, you were too busy moaning and pulling me on top of you to register that fact."

"I certainly was not," protests Blair loudly, raising her chin defiantly. "Don't make me out to be a whore, Bass."

"But that's what everyone will think of you," he says bluntly, raising an eyebrow. "And you know it. Getting pregnant so young? Already a negative. But add on the fact that it's not your boyfriend's." Chuck's eyes gleam as he thinks about the trouble a potential pregnancy could cause for Blair. "And then add on the fact that it's mine, and everyone will know you slept with me and cheated on Nate."

Blair swallows. "You're enjoying this," she states, eying him. "You asshole."

Chuck shrugs. "The only thing you can do is hope that it doesn't happen. If it does, you might as well enjoy it too." He smiles and licks his lips. "Unless you plan to abort it."

"I would never," Blair replies, disgusted. But the thought has crossed her mind, and she's not so sure if it's left yet.

"Well start smiling, Waldorf," Chuck drawls.

Blair stands up, smoothing down her hair and turning on her heel. "I'll be in touch."

She hears Chuck laugh as she struts away.

"So where'd you have to go?" Nate asks Blair as they lay together in her bed, face to face.

She forces herself not to look away, because even though Nate's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, he might still pick up on the fact that she's lying if she acts all fidgety and won't look him in the eye.

"I had to go see Serena," she replies, forcing a smile. "Just to talk."

Nate nods and Blair lets out a breath. She really does love him, believe it or not, but sometimes he's just so goddamn gullible and Blair thinks that if he wasn't maybe she wouldn't be doing what she's doing to him.

But she probably would be.

He links their fingers together, and Blair glances down at them, wondering when everything became so fucked up. At first, Nate was all she ever wanted, and when he had sex with Serena, Blair had felt like her life was over. Ever since they were kids, Blair was the princess and Nate was supposed to be the prince and they were supposed to fall in love and live happy ever supposedly-after. All she wanted was for him to choose her. But then Nate did choose her and he got boring, and Blair wanted something else. That something else just happened to be Chuck Bass.

"I love you," Nate says to her quietly, and Blair still gets butterflies when he says it. When he looks at her the way he's looking at her, Blair feels light and happy and giggly. She feels invincible. When Chuck looks at her, she feels dirty and shameful and wrong. But she still goes back.

Nate squeezes her hand in his lightly, and she starts comparing his touch to Chuck's, how Nate's is soft and loving and Chuck's his rough and demanding. Blair hates that she's constantly comparing them to each other, because she knows which one will usually win, but it never changes her mind.

Chuck only wins in one category; the sex.

"I love you too," she says finally, the words feeling slow and sticky like syrup as she forces them out of her mouth. It's not a lie; she does love him. But she feels wrong for telling him she does when she's cheating on him.

He pulls her on top of him so she's straddling him, leaning up and pressing their lips together. She groans into his mouth; even though Nate is not anything special in bed, he's an excellent kisser. He reaches under her skirt to cup her through her panties, and Blair thrusts her hips forward. It's not that Nate's horrible at sex.

He's just not Chuck.