Previously: It's currently fall of S2 in TUF-land, and Chuck and Blair's secret relationship is becoming less secret by the day. Jenny's been blackmailing both of them to further her social-climbing (and Nate-climbing) agenda. After yet another breakup with Dan, Serena's found herself a hot new love interest. And poor Nate is still wandering aimlessly through life, occasionally getting distracted by boobs and shiny things.

Oh, and during a moment of post-coital bliss, Blair accidentally dropped an L-bomb on Chuck, which he managed to fuck up in spectacular fashion.

Onward!

Chapter 19

You've got your ball, you've got your chain
Tied to me tight, tie me up again
Who's got their claws in you my friend?
Into your heart, I'll beat again
Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock and sweet you roll
Lost for you, I'm so lost... for you

You come crash... into me

-DMB

This was bullshit, Jenny decided, for the umpteenth time that morning.

Grounded for an entire week for coming home an hour past curfew? And not because she'd been out partying, or on a date, or doing anything delinquent, or even fun… she'd just been slaving away on costumes for the school play and lost track of time.

True, she hadn't answered the phone when her father had called, but only because she'd been waiting to hear back from Nate. She'd texted him an invitation to meet up for hot chocolate after school on Monday, which had struck her as such a charming, romantic, perfect autumn-in-New-York suggestion… until after she'd sent it, when it suddenly began to seem childish and ridiculous, especially since he'd already been dropping hints about her being too young for him.

Well, not "hints," precisely- "conversational anvils" might be a more accurate term. Subtlety was not Nate's forte.

And then, not only had he not texted back immediately, she wasn't even sure if he had texted back at all, because her father had confiscated her phone, and her laptop, and locked them away in some secret I-want-to-destroy-my-daughter's-social-life bunker hidden amidst his pathetic middle-aged rocker memorabilia.

The only positive that had come out of this entire mess was what she'd discovered, totally by accident, on her way out of the set shop. It was like a gift from God himself- assuming that God had a vested interest in the scandalous exploits of UES teenagers.

And, in the event that she was forced to deploy the nuclear option, it would certainly provide plenty of ammunition.

"Did we really need to come all the way to Manhattan just to pick up some ribbon?" Dan's voice intruded on her scheming.

"It's not ribbon, Dan," Jenny said impatiently, flicking a strand of blonde hair out of her face. "It's the Chantilly lace I need to finish Miss Haversham's shawl."

The siblings made their way down Fifth Avenue, her long strides requiring him to quicken his pace to keep up.

"And this absolutely had to be done today?" he said skeptically. "Opening night isn't for another month."

"It was just an excuse to get out of the loft," she said, a hint of annoyance in her tone. "And away from Dad."

"Yeah… yeah, I got that." Dan studied her for a moment, puzzled. "And I do appreciate you inviting me along, but-"

"I invited you because I wouldn't have been allowed to go otherwise," she interrupted. "Someone had to make sure I wasn't having any fun."

"Look, Jen, I know you're angry." Dan adopted his 'understanding' tone, which had always struck her as more patronizing than anything. "But it's only a week. I'm sure you can survive that long without a phone."

"Maybe you could," Jenny shot back. "The only people you talk to are Dad and Vanessa. But I actually have a social life to maintain."

Dan rolled his eyes.

"Try reading a book or something," he suggested in an ironic tone. "You might find it… edifying."

Jenny gave him a withering look over her shoulder, and returned her gaze ahead when she saw…

"Serena?" she said aloud.

Even from a block away, Serena's perfectly-tousled blonde hair was unmistakable. She was approaching the front entrance to Guglhupf, a bakery several blocks from Constance-Billiard.

Jenny glanced over at her brother, who had stopped in her tracks with his mouth half-open.

"Didn't you want to talk to her?" she asked, secretly hoping that this chance encounter would throw Dan off her trail.

Maybe she could take a quick stroll through Central Park, she pondered, towards the soccer field where Nate sometimes played pick-up games on the weekend.

"Yeah, I've been trying," Dan murmured, as he watched Serena disappear inside the bakery.

Even to Dan- who was not, historically, the best interpreter of girl-language- it was obvious that Serena had been deliberately avoiding him. At first, whenever he'd approached her at school, she'd just tossed her hair, sighed, and said, sorry, she was too busy to hang out, maybe another time, and sauntered off with her nose in the air and several minions at her heels. He'd just assumed that one bouquet of lilies and a short story- really, an apology in fictive form- weren't enough to placate her. He plainly still had some groveling to do.

But lately, it was different. She wouldn't quite look him in the eye, and last week he'd even seen her turn and head in the other direction to avoid a run-in.

Dan had no idea how to interpret that.

She couldn't avoid him forever, though, and maybe now was his chance.

"How about a quick stop?" he suggested to Jenny. "We can bring a pie home for Dad."

His sister, who seemed to roll her eyes at practically everything he said these days, sighed deeply as she turned to follow him.

They'd barely stepped over the threshold when he heard Serena's familiar laugh- sweet and artless, it floated above the din of conversation in the room. He immediately craned his neck, looking around for her.

"There she is." Jenny spotted her first and motioned towards the counter, where Serena was paying a besotted-looking cashier for a box of éclairs.

She stepped away from the register, carrying her box of pastries, and headed towards the café tables clustered near the front of the store.

"Can you hang out in line for a minute?" he said absently to Jenny. "I'm just going to go…"

His voice trailed off uncertainly when he saw someone rising from one of the tables to greet her.

Not just someone. Carter Baizen.

Which didn't necessarily mean anything, he assured himself. After all, they were old friends.

Nothing unusual about hugging an old friend. Or smiling up at him.

Or… kissing him.

"Oh wow." Jenny sounded surprised. "How the hell has she kept that off Gossip Girl?"

Always focusing on the important things in life, his sister.

With a jolt of dismay, Dan realized that the way Serena had been acting suddenly made perfect sense. She wasn't avoiding him because she was mad at him. She wasn't expecting him to grovel. She certainly wasn't awaiting the next chapter in his epic Dan-and-Serena literary saga.

She'd just found someone else.

"Ugh, if only I had my phone…" Jenny lamented. Then, as if she suddenly remembered her brother standing beside her, "I mean, uh… sorry, Dan."

"Thanks," he said shortly.

It was at that very moment- when his expression likely resembled a cross between a forlorn puppy and someone suffering from a sudden-onset gastrointestinal illness- that Serena happened to glance in his direction.

Her blue eyes widened almost comically.

And despite the fact that he understood, on an intellectual level, that she hadn't actually done anything wrong, he couldn't help the wounded, accusing glare he gave her. Her cheeks flushed a guilty pink, and she opened her mouth, as though to say something- and then closed it again.

To save himself any further embarrassment, Dan averted his eyes, muttered an excuse to Jenny, and made a swift exit.

Once he was finally back on the train, slumped down into his seat, he exhaled a long sigh and let his head fall backwards. He took a certain masochistic satisfaction in the way it banged against the window.

Because really, he was an idiot for not seeing this coming a mile away.

Girls like Serena ended up with the Carter Baizens of the world.

Not the Dan Humphreys.

.

.

"Miss Blair in her room."

Dorota looked surreptitiously to the left, and then the right, and then leaned in towards Serena. "And she not in a very good mood," she added in a warning tone.

Serena sighed as she made her way up the stairs.

An ill-tempered Blair Waldorf wasn't likely to be a lot of help with her current romantic predicament- after all, she openly disdained Dan and barely tolerated Carter. But Serena figured she had to talk to someone, and at least her best friend could be counted on to keep her secret safe.

"Knock knock," she announced in a singsong voice as she entered Blair's room.

And then jumped backwards, squeaking in alarm as a peep-toed pump went whizzing by her face.

"Serena?" Blair poked her head out of the closet, where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a gigantic heap of shoes. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

"What are you doing?" Serena asked.

"Organizing," came the succinct reply.

Serena watched as a matching pump flew through the air, joining its mate in what appeared to be a reject pile.

"Wasn't your closet organized already?" she asked dubiously.

This was an enormous understatement. Ever since Blair had been old enough to dress herself, her clothes and accessories had been meticulously organized by color, type, designer, and season.

"Well, that's what I assumed." Blair exhaled an indignant sigh. "Until I found a pair of summer sandals mixed in with my autumn pumps. I had to explain the entire classification system to Dorota all over again."

Which explained the warning downstairs.

"But in the meantime, I decided to declutter and get rid of a few things," Blair went on, examining a pair of Valentinos with a critical eye. "I mean, who even wears kitten heels anymore?"

Two more shoes flew through the air.

"Blair, is… everything okay?" Serena asked carefully.

Years of experience had taught her that her best friend's cleaning rampages were almost always a distress signal. Under normal circumstances, Blair paid people to do this sort of work for her- but when she was feeling particularly stressed or anxious, her control issues would manifest themselves in a pathological organizing spree.

As if losing control of one part of her life made her tighten her grip on the rest of it.

"Of course everything's okay." Blair fixed a hard, unblinking gaze on her. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, because you seem a little…" crazy-eyed, Serena thought to herself- "… on edge, that's all."

Blair shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance.

"You're not having problems with Chuck, are you?" Serena ventured cautiously.

"Things are fine with Chuck." The edges of Blair's mouth compressed, forming tense little brackets.

Things were clearly not fine with Chuck.

But the expression on Blair's face didn't encourage further questioning.

"Well… good." Serena did her best to hide the skepticism in her voice. "Because I kind of have a… problem… that I need to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Blair paused her ruthless shoe-sorting, her eyebrows raised in interest.

Serena made some space for herself next to a pile of knee-high boots and took a seat on the floor.

"Yeah, so there's this guy I've kind of been… seeing…" she began evasively. "We've just gone on a couple of dates, but-"

"Serena van der Woodsen," Blair interrupted in an affronted tone. "Do you mean to tell me you've been dating someone for weeks now, without mentioning a word of it to your best friend?"

"I'm telling you now, aren't I?" Serena pointed out.

This appeared to placate Blair… somewhat.

"Anyway, I was having breakfast with him this morning, and we ran into Dan…" Serena rubbed one hand against her temple, trying not to picture the dejected expression she'd seen flash across her ex-boyfriend's face. "And it was just… it was so awkward."

"Is Humphrey ever not awkward?" Blair shrugged.

"And it just made me start thinking-"

"Well, that's never a good sign."

"Blair, can you at least try to be helpful?" Serena asked, exasperated.

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry." Blair assumed a more supportive expression. "What did it make you start thinking about?"

"It made me think that maybe… I was a little hasty in ending things," Serena admitted.

Blair's eye twitched, as if she were consciously trying to keep herself from reacting.

"I did it because I was mad at him, not because I stopped loving him." Serena threaded her fingers together and clasped them around her knees. "And I know we still have our… issues, but if I really move on and date someone else, I'm afraid I'll close that door for good."

"And I'm just not sure I'm ready to do that," she confessed.

"Look, Serena, I don't think you need to worry about anyone snapping up Humphrey while you're not looking," Blair said dryly. "Plus... this other guy could be really great, right?" she said in a more serious tone. "And you're barely even giving him a chance."

"That's true." Serena sighed.

She felt unaccountably sad at the idea of ending things with Carter before they'd even really begun.

"Speaking of this other guy…" Blair raised her eyebrows meaningfully. "Are you going to give me a clue? Do I know him?"

Serena opened her mouth, but no words came out.

She'd come prepared for this part of the discussion, she reminded herself.

"It's, um… it's Carter," she said, barely above a mumble.

"I'm sorry, it's who?" Blair's eyes narrowed on her like a hawk's.

Serena cleared her throat.

"It's Carter," she said emphatically- although she was cringing on the inside, in anticipation of her friend's reaction.

Blair just stared at her, unblinking, for a long moment.

"Really, Serena? Carter Baizen?"

"What's wrong with Carter?" Serena said defensively.

Blair sighed and glanced at her watch.

"I only have two hours until my hair appointment, which is nowhere near enough time for me to answer that question," she said pointedly. "Which you already know, otherwise you would've told me you were seeing him."

"Oh, like you told me about Chuck?" Serena scoffed.

Blair inhaled an indignant breath.

"This isn't about me and Chuck," she snapped back. "This is about me- understandably- questioning the wisdom of you getting involved with a guy who, among many other things, made a slobbery pass at your best friend only two weeks ago."

Serena sighed, feeling her patience start to wear thin.

"Yes, well, he certainly paid the price for getting caught up in that creepy game of jealousy chicken you two were playing," she said wryly.

Blair's only response was an outraged huff.

"Look, B…" Serena raked one hand through her blonde waves. "I get that you don't like Carter. And I get why. But all that matters is that I like him. So can't you just try to be happy for me?"

"From the sound of it, you can't decide who you like," Blair pointed out.

"Okay, so I'm a little bit… torn, at the moment," Serena admitted. "But when you had a choice to make, and you made one that I thought was… questionable, I still supported you."

Blair was silent, acknowledging the truth of that.

"And now you're with Chuck, and against… pretty much all odds, things seem to be going great… right?" Serena ventured.

Once again, Blair's expression closed like a trap door.

"B…" Serena sighed. "I know something's wrong. Can't you just tell me what it is?"

There was a long, strained silence, during which Blair looked at her fingernails, the pile of shoes at her feet, the ceiling- basically everything in the room except for her best friend.

Finally, heaving a put-upon sigh, she made eye contact with the wall next to Serena's head.

"I may have…" She cleared her throat. "I may have accidentally told Chuck that I loved him."

Blair looked up to find Serena was staring at her with an open-mouthed gape, as if she feared that her best friend had completely lost her mind.

"You told him what?"

"I just… I wasn't thinking," Blair defended herself, dropping her gaze to the Louboutin in her hand and rubbing at an imaginary scuff mark.

"So what, it just… slipped out?"

"Well, we'd just finished having sex," Blair replied, as if that explained everything.

Serena continued to stare at her, expression unchanged.

"Really, really good sex," Blair clarified.

Serena grimaced in disgust.

"Okay, but even really, really good sex doesn't make you blurt out complete lies," she pointed out, eyebrows arched.

"Sure it does," Blair replied with a little shrug. "It's a hormonal response to orgasm. The dopamine and serotonin produce an almost drug-like high, and then the oxytocin and vasopressin create deepening feelings of attachment. It's basic biology."

Her matter-of-fact tone suggested that these details were common knowledge, as opposed to information she'd gleaned from hours of desperate Googling.

"So clearly, I'm not responsible for anything I might have said in that sort of… neurochemical state," she concluded, placing the shoe next to its mate and looking up at Serena with a decisive little nod.

"Or maybe it's like… things you say when you're drunk?" Serena ventured. "That you actually really do mean, but you'd never admit to when you're sober?"

Blair narrowed her eyes at her best friend.

Of course she'd considered that possibility- and then promptly dismissed it, because it was simply too horrifying to contemplate.

"Wait, what did he say back?" Serena asked suddenly, her eyes rounding as if the question had just occurred to her.

Blair once again engrossed herself in her task, selecting a pair of strappy Jimmy Choos and giving them a thorough perusal.

"Oh, well." She frowned as she identified a loose buckle on one shoe. "At first, he didn't say anything… for like, five minutes. I actually thought I might have given him a stroke."

"And then?" Serena prompted.

"And then..." Blair paused, trying not to relive the utter ignominy of what had come next. "He made some smarmy Basshole comment about showing him how much. Standard Chuck, basically." She concluded with a nonchalant shrug that felt completely forced.

"Oh, B…"

Everything inside her recoiled from the sympathy in Serena's tone.

"Whatever, it's not a big deal," she insisted. "I just need to figure out how to… demonstrate that. To him."

"Demonstrate what?" Serena asked, puzzled.

"That it didn't mean anything," Blair said emphatically. "I can't have him thinking that I feel… that way, about him. It would totally upset the balance of our relationship."

"Well." Serena chewed on the corner of her lip. "Can't you just, like… talk to him about it?"

"Hmm, talk to him about it…" Blair tapped one finger against her chin in feigned contemplation. "And how would that, go exactly? 'Hey Chuck, remember that time when I told you I loved you, and you responded by propositioning me for sex, and it was the most horrifically awkward experience of my entire life? Can we please revisit that?" Derision dripped from every syllable. "Because it wasn't nearly humiliating enough the first time around."

With a scornful glare towards the shoe in her hand, she tossed it into the donation pile, and then sent its mate sailing after it.

Serena sighed.

"Look, I know it might be uncomfortable," she allowed.

Blair snorted at the understatement.

"But B, you're never going to know how he feels unless you talk to him," Serena insisted. "When Dan first told me he loved me, I was so surprised and… overwhelmed, that I didn't know how to respond. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I felt the same way. You just have to be open and honest with each other, and everything will work itself out."

By the end of her monologue, Serena's face had transformed into an expression of sunny optimism, full of confidence that she'd found the perfect solution.

Blair rolled her eyes.

"As much as I appreciate the anecdote," she said dryly. "This is so not a Dan-and-Serena problem."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Serena looked offended.

"It means that this situation isn't going to end like an episode of Seventh Heaven," Blair explained in a long-suffering tone. "Where everything gets fixed with a mug of hot cocoa and wise words from someone's dad. This is Chuck we're talking about."

"He's still a person, B," Serena pointed out. "You know, with feelings and everything. And he's made it pretty clear that he has feelings for you."

"Of course he has… feelings… for me." Blair didn't sound quite convinced. "They just don't extend to… that one in particular.

"Which is totally fine," she added, rising to her feet and brushing off her skirt with both palms, "because my feelings for him don't either. So we're completely on the same page. We just need to maintain that equilibrium, that's all."

Turning on her heel, she strode out of the closet, through her bedroom, and into the bathroom, where she began to briskly- and unnecessarily- apply makeup.

Serena's reflection appeared in the mirror a moment later. Her best friend leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a pensive expression.

"Blair…" she began- then paused, as if to consider her strategy. "Why are you so sure you don't?"

"Don't what?"

Blair leaned forward, eyes narrowing as she spotted a barely-visible clump on one of her lashes- and then carefully excised it with the tip of her mascara wand.

"Love him."

Her hand paused at the words.

Then she blinked several times, as if she'd gotten something in her eye.

"I'm sorry, are you suggesting that I'm incapable of identifying my own feelings?" she said in a sharp tone.

Serena raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it was only a month ago that you said there was nothing going on between you two at all, and you were just using him to make Nate jealous."

"I didn't realize you were so interested in my thoughts on Chuck."

"They've been hard to avoid," Serena said dryly. "He's pretty much all you've talked about for weeks."

Well, that couldn't possibly be true, Blair decided with an indignant sniff.

She was a mature, sensible, independent woman. Not to mention a sparkling conversationalist.

She wasn't some… lovesick adolescent sitting around fantasizing about having Chuck's babies.

"I'm sure that's an overstatement," she said finally, screwing her mascara wand into the bottle and placing it back on the top shelf of her makeup caddy. "Anyway, I said those things before we came to our… understanding, so…"

"Your understanding?" Serena echoed.

"You know." Blair shrugged. "That we wanted to… be together."

"Right, the one you arrived at when he was drunk and you were half-asleep." Serena rolled her eyes.

Blair stiffened in affront.

"Look, I just mean…" Serena made a placating gesture with her hands. "Communication has never been you guys' strong suit. And the reason you can't talk about this stuff is that neither of you can even be honest with yourselves. So of course you can't figure out how to be honest with each other."

Blair pulled open a lower drawer to reveal row after row of lipsticks, neatly organized by color. She pondered the selection for a moment before selecting a dark cranberry shade.

"So what, exactly-" She surveyed her reflection as she uncapped the tube, pursing her lips in preparation, "-do you think I'm not being honest about?"

"I think…" Serena paused, studying her with an uncomfortably perceptive gaze. "I think you're scared to even consider the possibility that you might be falling in love with Chuck."

Blair's hand paused halfway across her lower lip.

"And I think… maybe you are," Serena concluded, in a voice that was far too gentle- far too kind, for Blair's liking.

She stared at her reflection for a moment, at that sweep of crimson covering half of her lower lip.

At her perfectly still hand, which betrayed just a hint of a tremble. It took a concerted effort to finish the motion.

"And I think you've been reading too many romance novels, S," she replied glibly.

But her breezy tone, her nonchalant laugh, sounded hollow and discordant even to her own ears.

"Blair…" The plaintive note in her friend's voice forced her to finally make eye contact, to face the concern and sincerity in Serena's expression.

Blair inhaled a long, heavy sigh.

"What makes you think that?" she finally asked.

Having spent hours upon hours torturing herself over this very question, she was honestly curious how her friend had arrived at such a conclusion.

"I dunno, ever since you two got together, you've just seemed so…" Serena paused, as if struggling to explain herself. "Different. Lighter, happier… more relaxed, I guess."

Well, that could just be the effects of really good sex, Blair decided. No cause for alarm there.

"And whenever his name comes up, you always get this funny little smile on your face..."

Blair frowned at her reflection.

"Not to mention all the times you bring him up yourself, which is… constantly."

Clearly an exaggeration.

"When he's not around, you seem distracted. And when he is around- even in a big group of people- it's like you forget anyone else is even in the room. Like… he's the only one who matters.

"I've just…" Serena blew out a long breath. "I've never seen you like this before, B."

Having finally run out of excuses, Blair stared silently at herself in the mirror. Two spots of color had appeared high on her cheeks, and her eyes seemed unnaturally bright and glossy.

She certainly didn't look light and happy at the moment.

If anything, she looked almost… ill.

"I just… can't," she said softly, to herself more than to Serena.

"Can't what?"

Blair shifted her eyes downward, away from the pained gaze staring back at her.

"I can't love someone who doesn't love me back," she admitted, swallowing back the mortification that threatened to overwhelm her.

"But you don't know that he doesn't," Serena persisted.

Blair exhaled a humorless laugh.

"I'm sorry, but in what language does 'why don't you show me how much' translate to 'I love you too'?" she shot back, the sarcasm in her voice sounding oddly brittle.

"Blair, you've been dating for all of three weeks, which is three weeks longer than any relationship he's ever been in," Serena pointed out. "You just caught him off guard, and he didn't know what to say. So he defaulted to sleazy perv. But that doesn't mean he doesn't feel the same way. Or that he isn't, you know… on his way there."

"Because he's managed to remain monogamous for three whole weeks?" Blair forced herself to sound skeptical.

"Because if I know Chuck- and God help me, I think I'm actually starting to-" Serena made a cringing motion, "you're not just another girl to him, B. He's been, well… stuck on you, ever since last fall. Probably even before that.

"It just scares the crap out of him and makes him act like an idiot," she added, her tone disparaging but affectionate.

Blair couldn't prevent the surge of hope that rose up inside her, fluttering in her chest like a trapped hummingbird.

Or like a moth committing suicide against a light bulb, her more cynical side pointed out.

She heaved a long sigh as she pondered the available options.

"So what am I supposed to do, just wait around until he decides he loves me too?" she asked resignedly.

She realized too late that it was essentially an admission; her mouth closed with a snap, as if she could reel the words back in.

A fleeting look of satisfaction crossed Serena's face, but she wisely chose not to rub it in.

"Well, I wouldn't look at it quite like that," she replied. "More like… taking your time and not rushing things. And not acting like those three little words are the end-all-be-all of your relationship."

Blair arched an eyebrow, as if to say, aren't they?

"Of course they're important," Serena conceded, "But isn't how he makes you feel more important than what he says? He makes you happy, B," she insisted. "Isn't that what really matters?"

It was the sort of mawkish, naïve sentiment that one might find on the back of a Nicholas Sparks novel, or one of those self-help books aimed at divorced women who hoarded cats. And as such, Blair was skeptical of it.

But she had to admit that her best friend had a point.

After all, she'd spent years hearing those very same words from Nate, usually parroted back at her as a mindless, automated reply, with little emotion behind it. But the words alone had never managed to imbue their relationship with the emotional connection she'd hoped for. And they certainly hadn't been some talisman against heartbreak.

So perhaps she could be patient. Try to relax and enjoy where she and Chuck were right now, instead of pressing full-throttle on the accelerator and careening the whole thing straight into a brick wall.

And if Serena were right- and she did seem to have a surprising amount of insight into her stepbrother's psyche- maybe it wouldn't take too long after all. Maybe Chuck was already halfway in love with her, and just needed time to realize it.

Maybe it would happen when she least expected it, she mused.

He'd lean in to give her a kiss, and pause- fingers gently cupping her jaw, warm breath ghosting across her mouth- and his eyes would darken, shining with barely-restrained emotion, as he traced his fingers across her cheek. And then he would murmur the words against her lips in that low, husky voice of his, not even waiting for a response before capturing her mouth in a hot, passionate-

"Blair?"

She shook herself back to reality to find Serena staring at her, the corner of her lips twitching as if she were trying to contain a smile.

"Yes, well," Blair said briskly. "Maybe you're right. About the patience, and the feelings, and whatnot."

She took one last glance at her reflection, smoothing her fingers over a few wayward curls- and pointedly ignoring the look of satisfaction on her best friend's face- before turning and stepping past her into the bedroom.

"Anyway, all this manual labor has left me famished," she declared, casting a disparaging look towards her reorganized closet. "Lunch?"

.

.

Chuck was slouched indolently in one of the padded leather club chairs lining the bar area, already halfway through his drink.

And still no Nathaniel in sight.

They'd made plans to meet up after their earlier squash game, which Chuck had won- albeit in less dominant fashion than usual- and he'd hoped that a few drinks and some mindless Nate-conversation would distract him from obsessing over the situation with Blair.

But as far as distractions went, this one was proving ineffective.

A text message notification jingled inside his jacket pocket, and he retrieved his cell phone with ungainly haste. To his disappointment, it was from Eric.

family brunch 11 tomorrow fyi

Chuck tossed his phone onto the table, swallowing back his disappointment along with another mouthful of Scotch.

Of course Blair wasn't going to text him- she probably wasn't even speaking to him.

Deservedly so.

Although she had dropped the "I love you" bomb on him completely out of nowhere, he thought with a touch of asperity. You couldn't just ambush a guy with that sort of declaration, and expect any sort of coherent response.

If he'd just had more time to prepare, he could've…

Done what, exactly? If she appeared in front of him at this very moment and said it again, he'd likely respond with the exact same paralyzed silence.

Which was completely ridiculous. He knew what the correct response was; he knew exactly what she wanted to hear. And there was no reason why he couldn't say it.

They were just words, after all.

Nate had managed to say them almost daily for years, without troubling his pretty head too much about what they meant.

And if saying them was all it took to keep Blair happy… well, the solution seemed obvious.

His phone chimed again. He forced himself to wait several seconds before reaching for it.

Still not Blair. Chuck's dealer, likely confused by his radio silence over the past month, was inquiring as to whether he needed any party favors for the coming weekend.

He pressed 'delete.'

"Hey, sorry, got a phone call." Nate slid into the seat across from him, plopping a glass of ice water onto the table. "Rehydrating?" He gestured towards Chuck's Scotch with a grin.

Chuck just smirked and raised his glass in an ironic toast.

The two drank in companionable silence for several moments, before Nate cleared his throat, obviously in preparation for unburdening himself.

"So I'm not really sure what to do about Jenny," he confessed, running one hand through his already-tousled hair.

Jesus Christ, not this again.

Chuck took another long swallow, already wishing he'd ordered a double.

"I'm having a lot of fun hanging out with her, but I'm definitely getting the impression she's looking for more," Nate continued.

"And you're not?" Chuck phrased the statement as a question.

"Well, I dunno…" Nate trailed off helplessly. "I do like her. I mean, she's so… different, from the other girls I hang out with. I feel like I don't have to… try so hard, when I'm around her."

Chuck raised an eyebrow at the implication that Nate's interactions with women ever involved effort on his part, but remained silent.

"And she is pretty cute," Nate added.

"Mmm," Chuck said noncommittally.

"But, well… first of all, Blair would kill me," Nate sighed.

Chuck felt his spine stiffen.

"I don't think she'd be that upset," he said, forcing a casual note into his voice.

"Are we talking about the same Blair?" Nate laughed. "I mean, I don't think she'd be happy if I dated anyone, but one of her friends? I'd be sleeping with one eye open for sure."

Chuck had to admit that this was probably true. Even if Blair had no remaining romantic feelings for her ex- and he had his doubts about that- seeing little Jenny Humphrey take her former place by Nate's side, and possibly in the Constance social hierarchy, would infuriate her.

But the good news was that this scenario seemed unlikely. When faced with a difficult decision, Nate tended towards inertia. And while Chuck had a vested interest in keeping Jenny happy- and therefore silent- all he really needed was for Nate to continue stringing her along.

"Well, if you want to base your love life off what your ex-girlfriend might think," he drawled, "don't let me stop you, Nathaniel."

Nate frowned, the barb clearly hitting its mark.

"It's not just that," he said defensively. "I also don't really want to be tied down right now. I mean, what if there were someone else out there I might be interested in?"

"Just some theoretical someone?"

"Well, not just anyone," Nate shrugged. "Someone… special."

"So you do want to be tied down," Chuck pointed out. "Just to a particular person."

Despite the fact that Nate had been obviously, painfully in love with Serena for years, and Chuck had been aware of it for just as long, it always felt like an off-limits topic of conversation. Nate never acknowledged it, and Chuck never brought it up. At most, they danced around the subject, with Chuck dropping the occasional snarky innuendo, and Nate pretending not to get it.

There was a prolonged silence, during which Nate appeared to be contemplating something of great consequence.

"You really don't think Blair would care if I dated one of her friends?" he finally asked.

"Jesus Christ," Chuck sighed with exasperation. "One of her frenemies, no. Her best friend in the world, with whom you already cheated on her? That's another story."

His face flushing with shame, Nate sat back in his chair. He took another gulp of water before letting out an uncharacteristically skeptical laugh.

"Well, what do you know, anyways?" he said with a good-natured shrug. "It's not like you've ever even been in a real relationship."

"By choice, Nathaniel," Chuck reminded him, hitting just the right note of insouciance. "I get enough drama just watching you from my vicarious perch over here."

"Maybe you should give it a try sometime," Nate suggested, equal parts jest and challenge. "They say there's someone for everyone, Chuck. Even you."

Chuck's scoff was more habit than actual reaction.

"Someone for whom I'd forsake all others?" he said derisively. "Not fucking likely."

"The woman who can tame the great Chuck Bass?" Nate was grinning. "Oh, she's out there somewhere. And I'm going to laugh when she knocks you right on your ass."

And there it was.

The realization that Chuck had been fighting against for months now- even as Blair had slowly, insidiously begun to consume his every waking thought- staring him right in the face.

She had knocked him right on his ass.

Whether it was love or not, he hadn't a clue; he'd always considered himself immune to those sorts of maudlin romance novel sentiments. But whatever she'd done to him, that first night in the limo, it seemed to have permanently unbalanced his mental equilibrium.

"Of course, knowing you, you'll manage to completely fuck it up," Nate added with a laugh, unknowingly fueling Chuck's unease.

When Blair had rejected him last year, he knew he'd reacted… poorly. He'd been hurt, and angry, and even angrier at himself for being pathetic enough to actually feel hurt, over what should've been nothing more than a casual fling.

After a lifetime spent cultivating genuine indifference to other people's opinions of him, Blair's caustic assessment of their time together as a "mistake" had pierced him somewhere he hadn't even known he was vulnerable.

And if he lost her now, after actually having had her… after she'd told him that she loved him…

Well, he simply couldn't allow that to happen. So he needed to make sure he kept her happy.

Which was why he was going to spit out those three little words, even if it killed him.

"You never know, Archibald." He drained the rest of his Scotch in one swallow. "I just might surprise you."

.

.

Chuck's optimism, however, was short-lived. His next two text messages to Blair ("Hey", and "What are you up to tonight"), as well as an attempted phone call, all went unanswered. His third text- and the fact that there even was a third text was testament to his increasing desperation- received only a brusque "sorry, going out with the girls."

Which meant that by Sunday morning, he was grumpy, frustrated, and anxious- not to mention hungover, from his attempts to self-medicate his anxiety.

And his mood was none improved by the time family brunch rolled around.

"Family brunch" was an elaborate charade that Lily would stage periodically, whenever she got the urge to pretend that the Basses and the van der Woodsens were one big, happy blended family. The fact that Bart had little interest in his step-children- and no interest in his actual child- didn't seem to faze her.

So they all gathered around the breakfast table, which was laden with enough food to feed four times as many people, and played UES Brady Bunch for an hour.

"Bart and I have been discussing plans for the Bass industries charity gala next weekend," Lily began, taking a dainty sip of her latte. "And we wanted to make sure you all knew that you're welcome to bring dates."

Bart made a noncommittal grunt into the business section of the Times.

"I'll ask Jonathan if he's free," Eric offered.

"That would be wonderful, honey," Lily said approvingly.

Chuck was only half-paying attention, chewing his way through a bagel that he hoped would calm his queasy stomach, when he felt Lily's gaze land squarely on him.

He looked up to see her smiling brightly- knowingly- at him.

"Charles?" she prompted him. "Is there anyone… special, you might want to bring with you?"

Bart continued drinking his coffee, a hint of pained resignation in his expression, while Serena studiously avoided making eye contact.

Goddammit.

"Chuck?" Eric, the only one who seemed unaware of the conversation's undercurrents, laughed good-naturedly. "Mom, I'm not sure you want to invite any of the, um… special someones he might bring."

"I just wanted to make sure he knew he had the option," Lily said airily.

She sent a conspiratorial look in Chuck's direction.

"Thanks… I'll keep that in mind," he replied with a tight smile, before turning to stare daggers at Serena.

She offered an apologetic little half-shrug, but seemed to be taking a certain amount of delight in his discomfort.

"Oh, and Serena, do you think Carter would want to join us?" Lily shifted her attention to her daughter.

"Carter?" Chuck and Eric both echoed at the same time. "Why would Serena bring Carter?" Eric asked dubiously.

"Did you not tell them you two are going out?" Lily seemed oblivious to the flustered expression on her daughter's face.

"It's not really that serious, Mom," Serena mumbled into her orange juice, cheeks tinged pink.

Chuck barely held back a scoff.

He supposed that Carter could be considered an upgrade over Serena's last boyfriend, but only just barely.

"Well, I think it would be lovely if you all brought dates." Lily was undeterred. "We can sit together at the family table."

"Yeah, that sounds…" Eric coughed uncomfortably. "… fun, Mom."

Chuck's mouth turned up in an involuntary smirk when he imagined Serena, Carter, Blair, and himself on the world's most awkward double date.

The smirk faded, however, when he realized that this scenario was not only possible, but actually likely. As attached-at-the-hip BFFs, Blair and Serena would certainly want to go out together with their boyfriends at some point.

He could picture it now: the two girls gossiping over martinis, while Carter needled him with condescending jabs and that shit-eating smirk, and Chuck contemplated the logistics of hiring someone to kill him.

"Well, I can… ask Carter if he wants to come," Serena was saying now, a hint of uncertainty still in her voice.

Lily nodded approvingly, and then Chuck felt her eyes on him again. He deliberately avoided meeting them.

He did find it a little… galling, admittedly, that he didn't even have the option of inviting Blair, because she still wasn't willing to be seen in public with him.

"I actually have some business to discuss with his father." This was Bart's first contribution to the conversation. "His firm is representing Sterling and Fairchild on that acquisition deal."

"Remember, no work talk at the table," Lily said in a gently reproving tone.

A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Bart apparently had nothing other than work to discuss, and all three children looked varying degrees of perturbed.

"Well, if you'll excuse me." Chuck directed this towards Lily as he rose to his feet and dropped his napkin next to his plate.

He'd nearly reached his bedroom when he heard the rapid clicking of heels behind him.

"Chuck," Serena's voice hissed in a not-nearly-quiet-enough whisper.

He paused, hand resting on the doorknob, as she came up beside him.

"This came for you yesterday."

At that, he reluctantly turned to face her.

A manila envelope, marked "Personal medical information: Confidential" was held in her outstretched hand.

"I put it in your mail pile, but I guess you didn't see," she said innocently.

Chuck recognized the envelope immediately; based on the smile Serena was trying to suppress, so did she.

"Thanks," he said tersely, reaching out to take it from her.

"I think it's really sweet of you, Chuck." Despite the amused twinkle in her eye, she sounded sincere. "I did it when I started dating Dan too."

Sweet? He almost snorted aloud. Talk about setting a low bar.

"Of course, it would've been more useful a month ago," she added pointedly.

True, Chuck conceded, except he'd been getting tested regularly for years. He might be depraved, but he'd never been stupid. This just happened to be a special occasion, prompted by a conversation he'd had with Blair several days ago.

"So… have you ever had sex without a condom?" Blair mused, trailing her fingers down his bare chest.

Chuck had been slowly drifting into a post-coital slumber- but at this, his eyes snapped back open.

"No," he replied cautiously.

"Really?" She sounded skeptical. "Never?"

"Never," he confirmed. "It may surprise you to know that I haven't always been so… discriminating, in my choice of partners." He felt a soft laugh vibrate through her chest. "And better safe than sorry, right?

"Not to mention, there are plenty of women who wouldn't be averse to getting 'accidentally' knocked up with a Bass heir," he added dryly.

According to Bart, anyway. He'd been all of eleven years old when his father had first given him a lecture on that particular topic.

They lay together in silence for a moment.

"Have you?" he finally asked, curious.

"No." She shook her head against his shoulder. "I've heard it feels really good though," she added offhandedly.

Except he knew Blair well enough to know that there was nothing offhanded about it.

And his body, which had previously been teetering on the edge of sleep, was suddenly very, very interested in this conversation.

"I've… heard that too," he agreed, striving for a noncommittal tone.

Another beat of silence.

"Well, since I'm on the pill now, maybe…" she trailed off.

"Maybe?" The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Well, you'd need to get tested, obviously," Blair backtracked so quickly it was almost comical. "For everything. By a real doctor, not some quack on the internet. And I'm not just going to take your word for it, I'd need to see the actual results. Preferably notarized."

"And then?" he prompted her, the corners of his mouth slowly turning upwards.

"And then… we'll see."

The Bass family physician had been examining him by 7am the next morning. He'd actually been somewhat chagrined by his own eagerness.

But regardless, none of this was any of Serena's business.

"Don't worry about it," he said dismissively, turning back towards his bedroom door.

"So about what happened with Blair on Friday," she began, her voice full of earnest concern.

Chuck swiveled back around and gave her a pointed, incredulous look, assuming it would shut her up.

It didn't.

"If you want to talk to someone about it-" she continued, undaunted.

"I don't," he cut her off.

The flash of sympathy in her expression was incredibly vexing.

"Look sis," he said curtly. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression before, but you and I aren't going to be the kind of siblings who stay up braiding each other's hair and gossiping about our personal lives."

"My bad." Serena rolled her eyes. "I just thought you might appreciate a little guidance. But if you want to go ahead and keep screwing things up on your own, have at it."

He regarded her through narrowed eyes for a long moment, considering whether anything she had to say might actually be useful.

The fact was, she knew Blair better than anyone- and if she thought he was fucking things up, she was probably right.

"Fine," he conceded. "What did she tell you?"

"Hey, I'm not violating best friend confidentiality here." Serena warned, holding up both hands. "Just offering advice."

"Okay, then what do you advise?" He gritted his teeth.

"I get that Blair might be… moving a little fast," Serena said diplomatically. "And maybe you're not quite on the same page yet. And that's okay."

She held his gaze for a moment, and the glimmer of perception he saw unnerved him.

"She just needs to know that she's not in this alone," Serena continued. "That your relationship really matters to you. That she really matters to you."

"She does," he said in an undertone, not quite meeting Serena's eyes. "You know that."

"I do," she agreed, and then gave a soft, incredulous laugh, as if she still couldn't quite believe it. "But I'm not the one you need to convince."

"So… what exactly am I supposed to do?" Chuck made a frustrated gesture with his hands. "Just tell her that she matters to me? Tell her that…" he trailed off uncomfortably, although he was certain Serena knew exactly what he was referring to.

"No." Serena shook her head. "She'll just think you're trying to placate her."

And she would, he realized. Blair was upset and embarrassed right now, and would interpret any declaration of feelings on his part as a reaction she'd forced out of him.

Which left him without a lot of options.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"So just show her," Serena insisted. "Show her you're serious about her. Show her you're not going to turn tail and run because of a little… speed bump."

"Or…" she added thoughtfully. "You could just imagine how Nate would handle this situation, and do the opposite of that."

He chucked in spite of himself.

So that eliminated 1) wishy-washy apologies, 2) waiting for Blair to bring it up and then sticking his foot in his mouth, and 3) pretending the problem didn't exist and hoping it would go away on its own. He was pretty certain he could avoid all of those tactics.

But avoiding Nate's mistakes also meant not parroting back an "I love you" simply because he knew it was what she wanted to hear. It meant letting his actions speak for themselves.

And if he knew one thing about Blair, it was that she could never resist a big gesture.

"Alright, I think I have an idea," he decided.

Serena's eyebrows quirked upwards in interest, but Chuck was already headed into his bedroom, busily strategizing in his head.

"You're welcome," she called after him pointedly.

.

.

With three practiced flicks of her fingers, Blair undid the combination on her locker and began exchanging her morning notebooks for afternoon ones.

Once she was done, she paused to check her makeup in the mirror she'd affixed to the door, resisting the urge to physically smooth out the worried crease between her brows. She did, however, take a moment to reapply a layer of gloss to her lips- apparently she'd chewed most of it off during her last class.

"Hey Blair," a chirpy voice nearly startled her into dropping the tube.

She glanced over to see a most unwelcome sight: Jenny Humphrey, beaming her most disingenuous smile.

And obviously wanting something.

"Jenny," she said brusquely.

"Listen, I was wondering if we could reschedule our committee meeting tonight," Jenny began. "I'm sort of… uh, grounded, so…"

"Grounded? How quaint," Blair said.

"I know, right?" Jenny sighed. "I missed my curfew just barely, and my father grounded me and took my phone. So I can't go out at night this week."

"Jenny, the Snowflake ball is two weeks away, we don't have time to be rescheduling anything," Blair said dismissively.

"But maybe if we moved it to the afternoon-" Jenny suggested.

"Afternoons don't work." Blair cut her off. "Kati has piano, Hazel's tutoring, and we're running the Coats for Kids drive Thursday and Friday. It has to be in the evening."

"But I'm the co-chair," Jenny protested. "I should be there."

Blair's temper, usually simmering just below the surface whenever she was forced to interact with Jenny, came dangerously close to boiling over. Closing her locker door with a sharp clank, she turned to face her blonde nemesis, arms folded over the notebooks clasped to her chest.

"You're co-chair in name only, Little J," she said coldly. "And we both know why. I think we'll manage just fine without you."

Jenny's eyes narrowed.

"I think you're forgetting the terms of our agreement," she said shortly.

"The terms of our agreement didn't include me bending over backwards to kiss your ass," Blair shot back.

A flash of crimson and blue caught her eye over Jenny's shoulder: Chuck's scarf, draped jauntily across his shoulders as he turned the corner toward the girl's hall.

In an instant, the already limited attention she was paying to the conversation evaporated.

His eyes landed on hers, and for one long, suspended moment, everyone and everything around them blurred into indistinctiveness. Then the corner of his mouth tipped up into a little smirk, and he began making his way towards her.

It was the first time she'd seen him since Friday night, she realized. She'd managed to avoid him all day Monday, sending just a few coy responses to his text messages so it wouldn't seem like she was ignoring him completely.

And given that her heart had just taken off at a panicky gallop, and she had to forcibly remind herself to keep breathing… she was unprepared for this encounter.

"I just don't think it's too much to ask-" Jenny's voice impinged on her consciousness, like the drone of an annoying insect that needed to be swatted away.

"Jenny, I don't have time for this," Blair cut her off. "I'm sure you can find someone else to bore with your tedious problems. So if you'll excuse me."

Jenny's mouth snapped shut, and she regarded Blair with an incredulous glower.

But she didn't immediately move to leave.

"Did I stutter?" Blair asked icily.

With that, the blonde turned on her heel and stalked away, almost colliding shoulders with Chuck as he came up beside them.

"What was that all about?" Chuck asked, raising his eyebrows in Jenny's direction.

"Who even knows," Blair shrugged. "That girl has been working my last nerve lately."

Huffing out an exasperated sigh, she opened her locker again and pretended to rummage around inside. This allowed her to avoid direct eye contact with Chuck, which, for some reason, was exceedingly difficult to maintain at the moment.

She had no idea what the hell was the matter with her. She'd never, not even after their first night together, felt this self-conscious around him. One stupid unrequited "I love you", and suddenly she was like a twelve-year-old in the throes of her first crush.

Chuck leaned against the locker beside hers, keeping an appropriate distance; to anyone walking by, they would appear to be just a couple of friends having a casual chat.

Except for the way he was looking at her.

"I've missed you," he said huskily.

Damn him, she thought. Using his sexy bedroom voice on her in public like that.

"I know, things have been crazy the last couple days." She shrugged nonchalantly.

She shuffled through her stack of binders, pretending to look at the labels on them, and selected one at random. His gaze was so intently focused on her that she could practically feel it, warming her already flushed cheeks.

"I was hoping you could come over tonight," he continued in an undertone, mindful of the classmates who were mere feet away from them.

"I would, but I have a meeting." She tried her best to sound relaxed and breezy. "How about tomorrow? My mother's out of town, so I don't have a curfew."

"Tomorrow works," Chuck agreed.

He was silent for a moment, and she busied herself rearranging her already-meticulously-organized textbooks. She hoped that Chuck wasn't paying too much attention to what she was doing, because she certainly wasn't.

"I have something special planned," he murmured.

Blair blinked in surprise. "Oh?" Her attempt at coy came out more breathless than intended.

"Yeah." He gave her a lopsided little smile. "We have something to celebrate, remember?"

Her mind went blank, because the only "something" she could think of was her disastrously ill-timed declaration.

Then she remembered.

"Oh right, our sexiversary," she said, trying not to sound disappointed. "Are you planning an encore performance?"

He chuckled.

"As enticing as that sounds," he said softly. "I had something a little more romantic in mind."

That was all the encouragement her foolish heart needed to start turning somersaults inside her chest. Her lips parted, in anticipation of some sort of coherent response.

But her brain had none forthcoming.

"Wear something nice," Chuck added, and then turned and sauntered off.

Blair stared after him for a long moment.

When she finally recovered her wits, she looked down to find that she was holding her chemistry textbook, last week's calculus homework, a French-English dictionary, and what turned out to be… a sex-ed pamphlet the guidance counselor had put in their lockers.

The symptoms of being in love, she decided, were remarkably similar to those of a debilitating mental disease.

.

.

The next evening, a considerably more poised Blair Waldorf knocked on the door of suite 1812.

She'd spent the last two days beating every trace of starry-eyed optimism out of herself. Having recognized that trying to coax an "I love you" out of Chuck, after three weeks of dating, was likely to backfire horrendously- and she was now far too invested in their relationship to risk that possibility- she was determined to get her wayward emotions under control.

She'd even practiced her reaction to his "special surprise" in front of her bathroom mirror, to make sure she didn't look too lovestruck. But none of her advance preparation could prevent the giddy little quiver of anticipation in the pit of her stomach.

Just as she raised her hand to knock again, the door opened beneath her curled fingers.

Chuck's attire was quite formal for a night in- burgundy velvet dinner jacket over a gray striped button-down and matching ascot- so she was relieved not to feel overdressed in her new Valentino. She smoothed her hands down the front of the embroidered red silk, hoping the gesture looked less nervous than it felt.

"Hey," he greeted her.

"Hey," she echoed offhandedly, as she stepped past him into his suite.

Only to come to an immediate halt.

The entire room was bathed in a warm, flickering glow from dozens of votive candles. They lined every available surface, their soft light reflecting off the well-polished furniture and the mirrored wall behind the bar. Scattered among the candles were rose petals, white tipped with pale pink, performing the air with their soft, delicate fragrance.

In the center of the room, an intimate table for two was set with an elaborate centerpiece, white pillar candles and floating votives encircling a vase of pink peonies. Dinner was waiting beneath a set of polished silver domes, while a bottle of champagne sat perched in a bucket of ice on a nearby stand.

And the inlaid bar speakers were emitting the faint strains of "The Way You Look Tonight."

"I…" Blair blinked, wondering for a moment if she'd dozed off and was dreaming. "Did you… do all of this?"

"More or less," Chuck said with a wry smile.

Blair's lips parted unconsciously as she surveyed the scene before her. It was as if he'd plucked a romantic fantasy straight out of her imagination and brought it to life.

"It's… it's beautiful," she said quietly. Then, regaining her wits, she cleared her throat. "You must really want to get laid tonight," she added in a droll tone.

He smirked.

"I'll admit I wouldn't be opposed to it," he replied, his tone mirroring hers. "And to that end… can I interest you in a drink?"

A short while later, they were enjoying oysters and champagne at their candlelit table. To circumvent the need for waitstaff- whose discretion was questionable at best- Chuck was handling the pouring and serving duties himself, with remarkable aplomb.

He also seemed perfectly relaxed, complimenting her dress and asking about her day with what seemed to be genuine interest.

But Blair still felt tense and anxious. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself that nothing had changed, the truth was that something had. And she could feel it every time their eyes met.

She used to look at him with a sort of... begrudging infatuation. That peculiar mix of fascination, camaraderie, and lust that only he could evoke.

When she looked him now, having acknowledged what her infatuation had evolved into, she felt an overwhelming sense of… panic.

That her feelings for him were now completely out of her control. That their intensity was beyond anything she'd ever experienced. That she'd fallen in love with the one guy who might not even be capable of loving her back, and was practically guaranteed to break her heart.

And that he must be able to see every one of these thoughts written right across her face.

Blair stared down at the oyster on her plate, having spent far longer separating it from its shell than was actually necessary.

"Is everything alright?"

She looked up to see Chuck watching her, a tiny crease of concern between his brows.

"Fine," she assured him. "Everything is… delicious."

When his gaze shifted downwards to her plate, she realized that she hadn't actually eaten anything yet. She quickly picked up the oyster she'd been fiddling with and tipped it into her mouth, swallowing with a bright smile and an enthusiastic "mmm."

Chuck didn't look convinced.

"Well." He folded his napkin next to his plate and rose to his feet. "I also have another little surprise for you."

As he went to retrieve something from behind the bar, Blair sat up straighter in her chair.

She'd read in "The Five Love Languages" that some people, particularly men, expressed emotion by giving gifts. And really, was there anything more romantic than an expensive, sparkly addition to her jewelry collection?

She hoped it went with her dress, so she could put it on right away.

But her excitement faltered when Chuck returned carrying a gold box embossed with familiar pink script. She did her best to hide her disappointment, pasting a suitably enthusiastic smile on her face as she opened the lid and peeled back the tissue paper.

So, her boyfriend had bought her underwear.

It was Chuck, after all. And it was a sex anniversary.

And it was really, really pretty underwear.

She lifted the white silk teddy from its cradle of pink tissue, admiring the hand-embroidered violets trimming the cups and twining their way down the front. The corset-style bodice was secured by delicate white ribbons crisscrossing the back, and matching garters fastened to a pair of nude silk stockings. The enclosed thong was a barely-there slip of sheer white silk, adorned with more intricate purple flowers.

It was the most beautiful lingerie she'd ever seen. It had likely cost a fortune. And there was absolutely no reason for her to feel disappointed by this present.

And yet, she did.

If Friday night's fiasco had never happened- if they were still on the same playing field that they'd been the week before- she would've been ecstatic with the gift. And she would've proceeded to express her gratitude in a manner very enjoyable for both of them.

But now, as with everything else, she couldn't help questioning what it meant about their relationship.

It seemed to indicate that he was primarily interested in one thing. And love wasn't it.

"Do you not like it?" She glanced up to see Chuck watching her, an uncharacteristic hesitance in his dark eyes.

"It's… perfect," she said honestly.

The barely-perceptible tension in his shoulders, which she hadn't even noticed before, relaxed a bit.

"I was at Agent Provocateur just last week, and I didn't see this anywhere," she added, stroking one of the garter ribbons between her thumb and forefinger.

"It's from the spring line. I had to pull some strings." Chuck shrugged. "As soon as I saw it, I knew it would look amazing on you."

There was something about the way he said it that made her look at him- really look at him.

This gorgeous guy, who she was absolutely crazy about, framed by the backdrop of the incredible evening he'd planned for her.

And then it suddenly hit home- she was so busy worrying about what might go wrong in the future that she wasn't even focused on the present. She was doing exactly what Serena had warned her about: putting so much pressure on their relationship that she was effectively sabotaging it.

But Chuck had gone to extraordinary lengths to make her happy tonight, and she was determined to make the most of it.

"I thought maybe you could try it on after dinner," he suggested, his voice dropping to that octave that always made her insides melt.

"I think that could be arranged," she said archly, tracing her thumb across the upper border of the corset in a deliberately provocative manner. "But first…"

She upended her entire champagne flute into her mouth and swallowed it in a single gulp. Then she dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin and gave him her most flirtatious smile.

"Refill?" she requested saucily.

Chuck grinned back, causing her stomach to do a fluttery little flip-flop.

"Yes ma'am."

It turned out that two (three?) glasses of bubbly were exactly what Blair needed to get out of her own head and just enjoy their date. She teased Chuck about his newfound affinity for mathematics- when the teacher had returned his test that morning with a droll "Well done, Mr. Bass," several of their classmates had turned around to stare in disbelief- and she boasted about convincing their local dry cleaners to host collection boxes for the coat drive, which had almost doubled donations from last year.

And she listened with interest as Chuck talked about Bart's new resort hotel in Majorca, on schedule to be completed in December.

"There's a spectacular view of the bay, and it's right next to Port Adriano." He sliced off a bite-sized piece of his veal chop. "So we could rent a yacht, sail over to Ibiza."

"We?" Blair echoed without thinking.

Then silently cursed when Chuck paused, folk halfway to his mouth.

"Yeah, I thought maybe we could go over winter break," he said a moment later. "If you want."

"That sounds… nice," she agreed, trying to keep her voice uninflected.

"And if Lily has her way, you'll have Serena to keep you company," he added. "She wants us all to go together."

A vacation two months from now was already a pretty significant commitment- but a family vacation? She could barely keep herself from beaming.

When she glanced downwards, she realized with a start that her plate was completely empty; she'd been enjoying herself so much that she'd completely forgotten her usual meticulous calorie counting.

"Speaking of which…" Chuck eyed her over the top of his champagne. "When were you going to tell me that Carter Baizen has designs on becoming my brother-in-law?"

"Ugh, don't even get me started on that." Blair heaved a deep sigh. "Serena kept the whole thing a secret from me too, since she was- understandably- ashamed of herself. And then she asked if I'd rather she got back together with Dan." she shuddered. "As if those are her only two dating options in the entire tri-state area."

"Well, Carter is basically the anti-Humphrey." Chuck shrugged. "So maybe this is just something she needs to get out of her system."

"Like a… colon cleanse?" Blair wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Except those don't leave you with a venereal disease and a criminal record when you're done."

Chuck snorted with laughter.

"I feel like you're not taking this situation seriously enough," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes at him. "Carter is a smarmy, manipulative little weasel, and he's taking advantage of my best friend during her vulnerable rebound period."

"Look, I know how much you loathe the guy," he said in a conciliatory tone. "And my own opinion of him has been… well-documented. Gun to my head, I would probably choose Humphrey, which pretty much speaks for itself. But you know as well as I do that once Serena has decided she likes someone, no one's going to be able to talk her out of it."

Well, Blair couldn't disagree with that. Serena seemed determined to learn everything the hard way.

"And also," he went on, leading forward onto his elbows and giving her a meaningful look, "I've been looking forward to tonight all week, and this talk about Carter is really killing the mood."

Blair felt her cheeks warm at the unmistakable intent in his gaze.

"Well then." She cleared her throat. "What's next on the agenda?"

.

.

Chuck carefully placed a spoonful of Chantilly cream atop each crepe, and then stepped back to survey his handiwork. Not bad for someone who rarely served anything besides Scotch, he decided.

As per his instructions, the dessert cart had been left outside the door, an unobtrusive knock announcing its arrival. And since Blair was still in the bathroom- powdering her nose, supposedly- he'd had a chance to finish the plating.

The evening was going well, he thought. It had been a little touch-and-go at first, with Blair distracted and tense, but eventually she'd relaxed- aided considerably by four glasses of champagne- and now she seemed to be enjoying herself.

And more importantly, flirting with him.

Which meant that everything was going according to plan; Blair was happy, he was going to get laid, and all of those heavier emotional questions had been shelved for the time being.

At the sound of a door opening, Chuck turned towards the bathroom, anticipating effusive gratitude for having special-ordered one of her favorite desserts.

Only to feel his jaw hang slack at the sight that greeted him.

Blair stood framed in the doorway, twirling the tie of her robe in one hand, a mischievous little smile on her face.

The robe was barely even a robe at all, the translucent white chiffon concealing nothing of what lay beneath; even so, when she undid the tie and let it fall to the ground in a swish of fabric, his breath caught in his throat.

Because even his fervent- and detailed- imagination couldn't hold a candle to the reality. The lingerie fit her body as though it had been made for her, caressing the swell of her breasts, the bend of her waist, the curve of her hips. The sheer white fabric and delicate embroidery emphasized the silken perfection of her pale skin and dark curls.

She looked equal parts sweet and seductive, virgin and vixen.

His every fantasy, come to life.

"You look…" Chuck swallowed. "… amazing," he finished, inadequately. The rush of blood to his groin had been so sudden, he felt almost light-headed.

"You like?" Blair stepped forward and made a half-turn on the ball of one foot, showing off the back.

Good lord, her ass was magnificent.

"Very much," he replied in a low voice.

"So…" She gave him a coy look back over her shoulder. "Should we adjourn to the-"

He didn't even give her a chance to finish. Covering the distance between them with several long strides, he spun her around and captured her mouth in a hot, purposeful kiss.

As her body melted against his, Chuck felt torn between two equally strong desires: to slowly, deliberately worship every inch of her, and to throw her down on the bed and fuck her until they were both out of their minds with pleasure.

Both, he decided, kneading the bare curves of her ass with greedy hands- he would do both.

Pressing her back into the doorframe, he guided one of her legs up around his waist, and then the other, grinding his hips into her with barely-restrained impatience.

Blair made an eager sound in the back of her throat, fueling his arousal even further.

Their mouths still fused together, he clasped her against him and carried her into the bedroom. When his knees bumped the edge of the bed, he tipped them both onto it, and then sat back on his haunches to rip off his jacket.

Raising herself up on one elbow, Blair reached behind her back to undo the laces of her corset.

"Leave it on." His eyes raked over her body, sprawled beneath him on the bed. "I can work around it."

He'd spent too many hours fantasizing about her in that outfit to tear it off in under a minute.

Once he unwound his ascot and tossed it aside, he leaned down over her and trailed his mouth along her neck, across her shoulder, down to the sweet, tempting curve of her breasts. Her nipples, already taut, peaked the sheer fabric; he stroked them with the pads of his thumbs and then drew them into his mouth, moistening the lace with long strokes of his tongue.

He could feel her squirm in anticipation, but he took his time, slowly pressing hot, reverent kisses down her body until he finally reached bare skin. He paused to trace his tongue across the soft plane of her abdomen and the curve of her hipbone. He lingered along the incomparably soft skin of her inner thighs.

Her hips bucked impatiently, and he chuckled.

It was only when she said his name- "Chuuuck…"- in a breathless, pleading little whisper, that he finally relented, sliding aside her flimsy silk thong and tasting her with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue.

Her thighs quivered. Her fingers knotted in his hair. Her breath hissed between her teeth. And he savored every last second of it, licking, teasing, tormenting her until she was writhing against him, her body arching upwards in a soundless plea, and finally shaking in release.

Her cries of pleasure left his ears ringing- and his erection straining at the front of his trousers.

Chuck deftly shed his clothing as he crawled back up her body, their hands colliding as they both worked to undo his pants. Within moments, she had his cock in her hand, making a little "mmm" of satisfaction at his obvious arousal. Their mouths met in a fervent kiss as she caressed him, firm and deliberate one moment, soft and teasing the next, until his hips were thrusting against her hand with pent-up desire.

His self-control, always tenuous around Blair anyway, was holding on by a thread.

Chuck broke off their kiss, leaving both of them panting, and reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

He was just about to tear it open when Blair placed a hand on his forearm.

"Did you…" She cleared her throat. "Did you do what we talked about last time?"

At first he blinked at her in confusion, his brain too overwhelmed with lust to comprehend what she was talking about. And then-

"I did," he said, his elation immediately fading into disappointment. "But I didn't bring it with me."

The envelope was sitting right where he'd left it, on top of his nightstand back at the penthouse.

On the itinerary for the romantic evening he'd planned, he'd apparently neglected to include "Show girlfriend STD test results."

Blair was silent for a moment.

"But they were all negative?" she said finally.

"Yeah," he replied, hardly expecting her to take his word for it. "They were all negative."

"Then…" She slid her fingers down his forearm to his hand. "We don't need this, do we?"

With a flick of her wrist, she pulled the condom out of his grasp and tossed it onto the floor.

Chuck stared after it for a second, mouth agape.

"I guess not," he murmured.

He could hear his heart, pounding emphatically in his ears, as he lowered his head to kiss her again. He could feel her, warm and wet and ready for him. She made an impatient noise in her throat as he rocked his hips, sliding himself along her slick cleft, teasing both of them to the very edge of endurance.

"Chuck, please…" Blair arched up against him, her fingers clenching into his shoulders.

And then, with one swift thrust, he was inside of her.

Their bodies fully joined, skin to skin.

Chuck released a ragged breath. He felt Blair do the same. They both remained perfectly still for a moment, savoring this new sensation.

"Wow," Blair said huskily. "That feels…"

Various words rioted through his brain- hot, wet, tight, perfect- none of them adequate.

He withdrew slowly, deliberately, intending to prolong their gratification for as long as possible- and then immediately sank into her again with a low groan.

He was no longer capable of deliberation. All he knew was that he wanted more.

More of her taste, her scent. Her satiny-smooth skin. More of the most addictive pleasure he'd ever known.

He began to thrust, and within moments, was perilously close to release. He was already so aroused, and this felt so, so good- it was about to be over before it even began.

He stilled, his forehead resting against Blair's shoulder, as he tried to marshal some self-control.

"Chuck?" she whispered against his neck.

"Just… give me a minute."

She slid her toes up the back of his calf.

He gritted his teeth and tried to think about baseball.

Finally, mercifully, Chuck pulled himself back from the brink. He began to move again, slow, shallow thrusts that heightened his arousal without overwhelming it; Blair responded instinctively, her body rocking against his in perfect unison. It was as if they were dancing steps so well-practiced, they ceased to require thought. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her legs, around his waist.

Their bodies so close, he could no longer tell where he ended and she began. But he still wasn't close enough.

He slid one hand behind her neck and pulled her into a kiss- hot, and deep, tongues stroking, mouths pressed together. Her fingers trailed up his neck to caress his jaw, then his ears, before finally tangling in his hair. It felt as though they were wrapped in their own private cocoon, the only sounds the whisper of cool sheets against heated skin and the hushed panting of their breath.

And they continued moving, rocking together, lost in a haze of carnal pleasure that was slowly, inevitably building towards its climax- towards a peak that seemed to grow higher and higher with every passing moment.

"God, yes…" Blair breathed against his mouth.

He lifted his head just enough to look at her.

Blair gazed back at him, her eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure, and shining with an emotion he didn't recognize. For a brief, crazy moment, it felt like she could see right through him.

Right into the deepest recesses of his soul.

"Blair…" His voice emerged as a low rasp.

Her eyes darkened infinitesimally.

The sensation that roiled through his stomach felt remarkably like falling- fear, exhilaration, and nausea, all rolled into one.

"Blair…" he said again, his voice dipping into a lower octave. "I…"

But the words caught in his throat.

Feeling suddenly, unbearably exposed, he ducked his head and kissed her neck. He dragged his teeth down her skin, eliciting a soft gasp, and then rolled his hips into her, once, twice, and then over and over, until the rhythm of their lovemaking once again took on a life of its own.

Until all of his thoughts receded, pushed aside by the relentless, voluptuous waves of pleasure, and they were both mindless with need.

"Oh God… Chuck… I'm…"

The words trailed off into an indecipherable, high-pitched whimper; he felt her tighten around him, her fingers clenching in his hair, her heels digging into his ass.

And he was lost.

With one last, desperate thrust, he emptied himself into her, groaning her name as he surrendered to the mind-melting bliss enveloping his body.

.

.

"Mmm." Blair tipped her head back against Chuck's chest and relaxed deeper into the warm water lapping around them. "That feels amazing."

The corner of Chuck's mouth tilted up in a self-satisfied little smirk.

He figured he'd earned it, after giving her three orgasms and one very well-received back rub. And based on their current position, with her luscious little ass nestled right between his thighs, they had at least one more round to go.

"You know it's a school night?" she said in a languorous voice. "And here I am… drunk and naked in a bathtub with Chuck Bass."

He pressed a kiss against her neck.

"Are you suggesting I'm a bad influence?" he murmured into her skin.

"Oh, I'm not complaining," she sighed, rolling her head over to the side to give him better access.

Another benefit of this position, Chuck decided, was that he could discreetly smell her hair, which was loosely gathered at the nape of her neck. He inhaled a deep breath, his nostrils filling with that fragrance that was uniquely Blair's- the coconut oil in her shampoo, a hint of lemon verbena from her bath soap, and the Chanel No. 5 that she dabbed right behind each earlobe.

After traversing pretty much every inch of her body with his mouth, he was well-acquainted with all of these scents; and yet, he still felt like he was discovering them anew every time.

"I apologize for ever doubting your… romantic expertise." He could hear the smile in Blair's voice. "You've definitely outdone yourself tonight, Bass."

The compliment, even as it brought an answering smile to his own face, couldn't quite settle the disquiet lingering in the back of his mind.

Everything had gone according to plan. Blair was happy, satisfied, and as relaxed as he'd ever seen her. By all objective standards, the evening had been an unqualified success.

With the exception of one minor snafu, which she hadn't even noticed, and he certainly shouldn't still be worrying about, nearly two hours later.

It had been disconcerting, though, to decide to say something, and attempt to say it… and unexpectedly find himself rendered mute, the words stuck in his throat. He'd never experienced such a paralyzing hesitation before.

Which had left him questioning why, exactly, those particular words had been so difficult to say. Why they'd suddenly felt like such an enormous risk.

He supposed that the admission would give her a certain amount of leverage, and maybe he wasn't entirely comfortable with that. But leverage shouldn't matter when two people were in a mutual, committed relationship.

A mutual, committed, secret relationship.

"Something wrong?" Blair had felt him tense beneath her.

"No," Chuck refuted softly, returning to pressing kisses down the column of her neck.

But the twinge of unease he felt, vibrating through him like a plucked string, confirmed that he'd identified the source of his hesitation. It was one thing to say "I love you" to someone; it was quite another to say "I love you" to someone who wasn't willing to be seen in public with you.

Her reasons for wanting to wait did seem perfectly legitimate. And he had no reason to doubt that her feelings were genuine. But the fact remained that she'd burned him once before, and under very similar circumstances.

So was this merely a necessary, but temporary, delay? Or was it a stall tactic that would eventually allow her to end their affair and disavow it completely?

There was only one way to know for sure.

"The Bass Industries annual charity gala is this weekend," he said offhandedly. Retrieving his champagne flute, he took a sip to moisten his suddenly dry throat. "I was wondering if you wanted to come with me."

"Come with you?" Blair said, surprised. "Like… as a date?"

"As a date," he confirmed.

"But…" She paused, and the silence felt weighted. "I thought we'd agreed to hold off on going public."

Chuck wasn't sure if it was better or worse that they weren't having this conversation face-to-face; he could feel the sudden tension in her back and shoulders, but he couldn't see her expression.

"We did," he agreed, forcing a casual note into his voice. "But it's already been almost a month."

More silence, and his nerves began to tauten, too.

"And I don't feel comfortable lying to Nate anymore," he added.

"You don't feel… comfortable?" Blair echoed, perplexed.

Clearly the possibility of Chuck objecting on moral grounds had never occurred to her.

"He's my best friend," he said defensively.

That never stopped you before. She didn't say it aloud, but he knew she was thinking it.

And she was right. He'd been an undeniably shitty friend- a fact which he generally tried to avoid thinking about, because whenever he did, it produced a strange leaden sensation in his chest.

The stirrings of a rusty, under-used conscience, perhaps.

But the only way to stop this self-perpetuating cycle of lies and manipulation was to tell Nate the truth. And he couldn't do that without Blair's agreement.

"Maybe…" Chuck replaced his champagne flute on the rim of the tub and then stroked one finger down the outside of her upper arm. "I'm looking forward to finally showing off my girlfriend."

The set of her shoulders relaxed just a fraction.

It was remarkable, he thought wryly, how effective a strategic use of the g-word could be.

"Well…" She cleared her throat. "I guess…. I guess we could do that. If you want."

He hadn't realized, until he felt the ball of nerves in his gut begin to unknot, how much had hinged upon her response. The fact that she sounded less than enthusiastic about the prospect, he did his best to ignore.

All that mattered was that they were going to be an official couple- a real couple. They could finally stop sneaking around and lying to everyone. And he could finally tell Nate the truth.

Well… an abbreviated version of the truth, anyway. He'd probably omit the blackmail, the manipulation, the exact timeline of events… also, that one time he'd fondled Blair in the middle of a public place while she was technically still Nate's girlfriend.

Okay, so he wouldn't be in the running for Best Friend of the Year. But it was a step in the right direction.

And as a side benefit, once all of this was out in the open, he could tell Jenny Humphrey exactly where she could shove her little amateur-hour blackmail attempt. Possibly even administer some payback, should he feel like expending the effort.

Satisfied with this outcome, Chuck wrapped his hands around Blair's waist and pulled her more snugly against him.

"We'll have to coordinate outfits," he mused. He placed a kiss against her shoulder blade, and then another against her nape. "To maximize our entrance."

"I do love a good entrance," Blair murmured distractedly.

He scraped his teeth lightly against her neck and heard her breath catch.

"I thought maybe my Brioni tux…" he continued, trailing his fingers slowly, languorously over her stomach and up her ribcage, "… with your new Dior?"

His hands cupped her breasts, just visible beneath heaps of bubbles, and felt her body instinctively arch back against him.

"I'll have to… book a fitting…" Blair's voice trailed off into a little gasp as he dragged his thumbs over her nipples. "Mmm, Chuck…"

And those words- or various iterations of them- were all she managed for quite some time.

.

.

Several hours later, Blair awoke disoriented, her mind still hazy with sleep. It took her a moment to identify the darkened bedroom.

The digital clock resting atop the nightstand read 5:04am.

Rolling over, she encountered Chuck's sleeping form pressed against her, his arm tucked snugly around her waist. His grip tightened fractionally, but otherwise he didn't stir.

She'd seen Chuck asleep- or passed out- enough times over the last decade to know that he was a sprawler. Accustomed to having a king-sized bed all to himself, he took up far more space than he actually needed. He would often sleep on a diagonal, limbs extended out in four different directions, as though he'd fallen across the mattress and just stayed wherever he landed.

But every time he shared a bed with her, he spent the night spooned against her back.

Taking the opportunity to observe him unawares, Blair propped her head up on one hand and gazed down at her bedmate. Even asleep, Chuck exuded an undeniable charisma- a dark, brooding magnetism that was almost palpable.

It was hard to believe that she'd gone so many years without noticing it.

But had she, really?

It was possible that her attraction to Chuck hadn't simply appeared out of nowhere the day she broke up with Nate. That perhaps some part of her had always noticed- and been privately fascinated by- his sharp mind, devious wit, and unrepentantly wicked sex appeal. She'd just filed it away with the rest of her inconvenient and unacknowledged feelings, and carried on with her carefully-planned life.

But it turned out that acknowledging feelings didn't make them any less daunting. Because as well as she knew Chuck- and she suspected she knew him better than anyone- in many ways, he remained a mystery to her.

There had been a moment, the night before, when she'd been certain he was about to tell her he loved her. Their lovemaking had seemed so different, so… unexpectedly intimate. It wasn't just the experience of sharing a sexual first with him, although that had felt amazing- it was more the way he'd looked at her. The way he'd touched her. The way he'd cradled the back of her head with his hand while they kissed.

The way he'd said her name, and then paused, staring deeply into her eyes, and then…

Nothing.

She'd been left wondering if the whole scenario had just been her own overactive imagination. If maybe she wanted him to reciprocate her feelings so badly that she was deluding herself into believing he did.

And these were the circumstances into which he'd tossed a metaphorical grenade, requesting that they take their relationship public in a matter of days.

The prospect filled her with equal parts anticipation and anxiety.

Chuck stirred, and she froze, fully aware that she was watching him sleep like a stalker. He turned his face into the pillow, mumbled something that sounded like "banana hammock," and went still.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Blair rolled onto her back and returned to contemplating their future.

On the one hand, it would be a relief to have everything out in the open. And they would make an extraordinarily striking couple. Like… Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh.

On the other hand… she could already picture the reactions. The hushed whispers and disdainful glances from her friends. Her mother's expression of barely-concealed horror, as though she'd just stepped in something vile. Nate, shocked and disgusted, by what he would view as a misguided attempt at revenge.

And yet, as uncomfortable and embarrassing as all of that would be, she knew she could handle it.

What she couldn't handle was another public heartbreak. Another humiliating rejection that the whole world would be privy to, this time with a heaping helping of "you should've known better"… because really, who on earth would be naïve enough to expect a fairytale romance with Manhattan's most debaucherous playboy?

He'd never promised her a future together. He hadn't even told her he loved her. So when Chuck inevitably grew bored with monogamy and broke her heart, she wouldn't even get pitied- she would get laughed at.

She felt her throat tighten at the thought.

But what alternative did she have at this point? She was in too deep to even consider breaking things off. And as the saying went, nothing worth having in life was without risk.

So a leap of faith it would be.

As if to punctuate that thought, her phone alarm began its cascade of insistent beeps.

Chuck grunted, then rolled over and buried his head in the covers.

"What time is it?" His voice was muffled by the bedding.

"5:15!" she said in her briskest "up and at 'em" tone.

He pulled the comforter down and looked at her balefully, his eyelids still heavy with sleep.

"You get up at 5:15?" he said incredulously. "Why?"

"5:45," she corrected him, sitting up against the headboard and smoothing her hands over her rumpled hair. "I need to work out, shower, get dressed, have breakfast, and check over my assignments. It takes two hours. I added in half an hour of travel time."

She'd also texted Dorota the night before, with a thinly-veiled lie about sleeping over at Serena's and instructions to have her new Burberry coat pressed by morning. The response she'd gotten- "Yes, Miss Blair"- had been positively dripping with Catholic judgment.

"You live ten minutes from here," Chuck pointed out, stifling a yawn.

"I budgeted a little extra for… distractions." Blair folded her hands primly on top of the duvet.

He blinked, and then gave her a drowsy, knowing little smirk.

"Well, in that case, we'd better get you back on schedule," he murmured, brushing a wayward curl off her bare shoulder.

Like a match to dry tinder, that light graze of his finger sent a ripple of arousal through her body.

"I think we can take care of that workout, too," he added. His lips pressed a lingering kiss against the spot he'd just caressed.

Moments later, he'd rolled her beneath him, their mouths joined eagerly, all thoughts of schedules forgotten.

.

.

"Goddammit," Jenny cursed under her breath, jiggling her key and giving the loft door a frustrated smack.

She'd already been running late for school when she'd realized her pre-calc homework was missing- then, in her haste to get home and retrieve it, she'd gotten the heel of her shoe caught in a sidewalk grate and snapped off the tip.

Why was everything going wrong lately?

When she finally got the door open, she hurried through the living room, indiscriminately kicking her shoes off as she went.

As expected, her homework was laying on her desk, right where she'd left it. She grabbed the stapled sheaf of papers, slid her feet into the Tory Burch flats she'd worn yesterday- hopefully no one would notice- and headed back to the living room.

Only to come to a sudden halt when she realized she was alone in the apartment.

… With Rufus's bedroom door left open, as if beckoning her to enter.

Jenny glanced around furtively, and then slipped inside.

She headed straight for the bottom drawer of the corner dresser where he always kept confiscated items. Just as she suspected, there was her cell phone, tucked beneath a pile of plaid flannel shirts.

He could at least try to switch up the hiding place occasionally, she thought with an eyeroll.

Phone in hand, she returned to her bedroom and plugged it into its charger, and then waited impatiently for the start-up screen.

Moments later, she was scrolling through days of missed text messages. Hazel, Penelope, Vanessa. A bunch from Eric. And a reply from Nate!

sorry cant make monday. some other time.

She read it over five times, trying to inject it with tone. Was it a sincere "sorry"? A dismissive "sorry"? Was the "some other time" a promise? Or maybe a polite blowoff?

Jenny blew out a frustrated breath, fluttering her blonde bangs against her forehead.

What she needed was some insight into Nate's psyche. And there was only one person she knew who could provide that.

She tapped out a quick text message and pressed 'send.'

Moments later, a response arrived.

attracting nate is ur job not mine. i cant make him want to fuck u.

That was it. A short, caustic dismissal.

Jenny's entire body flushed with indignation, resentment- and the sharp, corrosive burn of anger.

They both thought that she was so far beneath them. That they could treat her with disinterest, ridicule, even outright contempt, and she was powerless to do anything about it.

Well, they were wrong.

A glance at her watch confirmed that she was definitely going to be late for homeroom now- but this was so worth getting a few demerits.

With sharp, forceful jabs, she typed out an email to Gossip Girl. It was succinct, because the evidence pretty much spoke for itself. Before she sent it, she clicked 'play' on the video attachment- just to make sure it was the right one, not because she actually wanted to watch it again. She hadn't even wanted to watch it the first time.

The video loaded, paused on a view of a dimly-lit hallway… then stuttered, and then finally began. Even filmed with a low-quality camera, through a smudged glass door panel, there was no doubt what was happening on the screen.

Two dark-haired figures, both immediately identifiable, pressed against the teacher's desk in an ardent embrace.

If "doggy-style" could be considered an embrace, Jenny thought with a derisive nostril-curl.

She watched for only a few seconds- long enough to see Chuck slide his hands up inside of Blair's open blouse, and Blair arch her head back against his shoulder- before hitting 'stop.'

And then 'send.'

They'd underestimated her. Treated her as a subordinate. Dismissed her as an inconsequential annoyance.

And now they were going to suffer the consequences.

Jenny hummed a triumphant little tune as she returned the phone to its hiding place in her father's room- a convenient alibi, in case anyone started asking questions- and then headed out the door to school.

She didn't want to miss a moment of the fallout.

.

A/N: So if you actually managed to make it to the end of this… well done, haha. I'd love to hear your thoughts :)

Thanks, again, to everyone who's encouraged me to keep going with this story- Maryl, Ellen, Moo, and countless others. Without the show to provide inspiration, feedback is the best motivation there is, so I really appreciate it.

And, of course, no author's note would be complete without a thank you to my faithful beta, Terrabeth. She mentioned in her epilogue to "Criminal" that she couldn't have done it without me- which is total horseshit, because she totally could have. It's indisputable, however, that I wouldn't have managed to do any of this without her. So, fistbump for being awesome.