Author's Note: I was anonymously asked during Chair Week to write a piece about Chuck and Blair betting on Henry's first word. I put the suggestion aside due to a full plate what with Chair Week, my thesis, and my regular workload. And now here it is. I hope whoever asked for the scenario is pleased.

Henry reclines backwards, watches the scenery overhead change from concrete and glass to bark and leaves. The sidewalk underneath his stroller is smoother and thus does not jostle him side to side as much as moving from sidewalk to street to sidewalk does. The loud sounds of the city quiet into the rustle of the leaves in the wind occasionally punctuated by the sound of a dog barking and a jogger passing by, their shoes pounding angrily against the pavement.

The whole situation would normally be serene enough to lull him to sleep, if he hadn't already had a nap today and if Dorota wasn't currently narrating their walk with a happy Polish song. He shifts his gaze from the world above him to the woman pushing the stroller, kicks his legs appreciatively at her song.

"Happy, happy, Mister Henry," Dorota coos with a smile before she taps the little boy's nose and calls him her secret weapon. The stroller follows the winding curve of the pathway, and they reach their destination just as Dorota finishes the song again.

"Dorota!"

A voice – one that Henry knows intimately – implores the maid for being late, and he strains against the straps holding in place as he tries to see the source of the noise. Dorota steps aside, leaves him looking out at the way they just came in her absence. She holds the package that had been swinging from the handle of the stroller as she pushed it through the park out to her employer.

"Miss Blair, I bring bread," Dorota informs the young woman. "Feeding ducks always calm you down."

"I don't need ducks anymore," Blair replies as she steps around the woman and heads to the source of her happiness these days. The baby grins widely when he sees her, holds his arms out, and calls to be picked up in an undecipherable babble.

"Hello, Henry," Blair greets in a sing-song voice as she peers into the stroller. "How's Mama's sweet boy?"

She thrusts her purse and cell phone into Dorota's arms and then reaches in and unbuckles the baby. She lifts him up, plants a series of kisses against his cheeks in greeting. He pats her face, grabs at her lips as she speaks, and then he thrusts his body forward so that she has no choice but to cradle him close.

"Can you say hi, Mister Henry?" Dorota asks as she sets the bread in his vacated spot.

"No, Dorota," Blair interjects. "We've been over this. He has to say 'Mama', not 'hi' and certainly not 'Dada'."

Blair moves away from the maid as she speaks, heads towards the duck pond so she can point out the animal inhabitants to her son. When her back is turned, Dorota rolls her eyes because this has become ridiculous.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Dorota!" Blair snaps without turning around. She moves the baby in her arm, holds him so that his face is level with hers. "Henry's going to say 'Mama', aren't you, Henry? Because Daddy can't win. Because Daddy is already a smug basst—"

"Miss Blair!"

"A smug Bass," Blair corrects before planting a gentle kiss against her son's cheek. The little boy pulls his fingers out of his mouth, drags a trail of slobber from his mouth as he gestures towards the family of ducks swimming by.

"Ducks? You wanna feed the ducks, Henry? Can you say ducks?"

The little boy looks at her, looks at the ducks, and then throws his body towards the duck pond in an enthusiastic squeal.

"I'll take that as a yes," Blair says with a sigh. She turns towards Dorota, taps her feet impatiently as the maid undoes the twist tie on the plastic bag holding the loaf of bread.

"Mister Henry speak when he ready, Miss Blair," Dorota replies knowingly, cautiously as she hands Henry a piece of bread.

Henry clutches it in his slobbery fingers. Blair takes a chunk out of the bread, tosses it into the pond, and watches her son watch the ducks swim over to them. He squirms in her grasp, whimpers to be set down on the ground so that he can get closer.

Placing his feet firmly on the ground, Blair crouches down next to him to offer her leg as a means of support and holds on tightly to his tiny waist to keep him from teetering into the water. Henry bounces excitedly, babbles happily as he tosses the bread towards the water. It lands as one giant mass, floats for a moment before the ducks dive and attack. He grins, laughs at their antics as his mother sweeps his unruly brown hair back and plants a kiss against his head.

The cell phone in Dorota's hand interrupts their moment; the incessant ringing pulling her attention back to the disaster she left behind at the atelier. Dorota smiles apologetically as she hands the phone off to Blair, as she takes her employer's place next to Henry.

Another kiss is placed against his head and three words are whispered in his ear with a tight hug before she holds the phone to her ear and transforms into the part of her that isn't Henry's Mama. Her bite is just as strong as her bark as she snaps at her assistant on the other end of the line. Dorota watches her leave, watches her walk around the bend before zeroing back in on her precious charge.

"You make Mama so happy, Mister Henry, and happy Mama means happy Dorota," Dorota calmly informs him the little boy as she hands Henry another slice of bread from the bag. "But you say Dorota first. Okay, Mister Henry?"

Henry reclines backward, watches the scenery overhead change from concrete and glass to pre-war brick and façades. The sidewalk is filled with the hustle and bustle of New Yorkers heading home after work and thus people jostle him side to side as they move past him without a second glance. The loud sounds of the city are punctuated by the sound of his beloved dog barking and his father snapping at people to watch where they are going.

The whole situation would normally lull him to sleep, if only he wasn't so entranced by the excitement and if his daddy wasn't currently talking animatedly into the phone. He shifts his gaze from the world above him to the man pushing the stroller, kicks off the thin blanket that had been tucked around his legs.

"Chuck!"

His father turns his head with the phone still clutched to his ear, scans the crowd for the source of the noise. He bites out a quick goodbye into the phone with a nod in acknowledgement towards the person calling out his name before sliding the phone into his the pocket of his pants.

"Nathaniel," Chuck greets warmly.

Nate nods his own hello, but steps past the man to peer into the stroller and greet his godson. He taps his fist to Henry's in greeting, laughs when Chuck mumbles something about him teaching the littlest Bass to be a "bro" in disgust. Henry leans forward in his seat, reaches without outstretched hands to be picked up.

"Here," Chuck says as he pushes Monkey's leash into Nate's hands. He leans forward, quickly undoes Henry's seatbelt, and lifts the little boy out of the stroller with finesse.

"I could have picked him up," Nate offers as Chuck adjusts Henry to one arm and begins pushing the stroller down the crowded sidewalk. Nate follows along, fails to watch Monkey and make sure the leash doesn't become entangled around the signpost as Monkey walks one way and Nate walks the other.

"You can't even handle the dog, Nathaniel," Chuck says in bemusement as he watches Nate attempt to untangle the leash. "I'm not letting you hold my son."

"Henry, tell your dad that he needs to learn to share with your Uncle Nate," he replies once he finishes straightening out the leash. He reaches forward, tickles the little boy under the chin, which sends him into a cascade of laughter. "Say it, Henry. Say Uncle Nate's my favorite."

"No," Chuck interjects, jostling the little boy away from his godfather. "Henry's going to say 'Dada' first, aren't you? Because Mommy can't win. Because Mommy's an insufferable bit—"

"Chuck," Nate exclaims, effectively cutting off Chuck. Because he knows as well as anybody that while Blair may be an insufferable bitch when she wins a bet or an argument, hell hath no fury like a mother whose child's first word rhymes with witch.

"At this point, I'd be happy if he said something. Anything."

"Even 'Mama'?" Nate questions antagonistically with a sloppy grin. Chuck hadn't clued him on the terms of the bet, which means that it is one he really does not want to lose.

"He's not going to say Mama first," Chuck corrects as he adjusts the little boy's shirt and tickles his belly for good measure. The action earns him an infectious giggle that immediately transfers a smile to his face. "Henry's going to say 'Dada' because he's a Bass and –"

"And because you bought him a giant giraffe?" Nate offers with a gesture towards the large stuffed animal jammed into the basket of the stroller. It barely fits and, in fact, has been dragging on the ground for much of the walk.

"Lot of good it did me," Chuck replies with a snort. He then offers Nate a look that says he is only teasing. "Unlike Blair, Henry's not easily bought."

"Are you gonna get him checked out?" Nate asks with a touch of concern. He hates to think there might be something wrong with his godson, but everyone thought the little boy would be talking by now.

"Blair's mentioned it," Chuck replies with a sigh. He then offers Nate a smirk that says he's comment is meant to be a double entendre. "But, like his mother, Henry's probably a late bloomer."

Nate shake his head, rolls his eyes at the comment as he walks alongside his best friend away from the center of the city back towards Chuck and Blair's townhouse on the Upper East Side. He helps Chuck lift the stroller over the curb; helps push it towards the appropriate street with one eye on Monkey and the possible appearance of squirrels along the path.

He tells his best friend about the Spectator, asks how things are going at Bass Industries and the building of Chuck's latest hotel. When they reach the townhouse, Nate hands off Monkey and singlehandedly carries the stroller into the house. Dorota greets them both at the door, helps him with the stroller as she informs Chuck that Blair called.

"She run into problem at atelier. Said that you two and Mister Nate and Miss Serena eat at home with Mister Henry rather than going out."

There is no protest or rebuttal from Chuck as he heads for the living room, heads off to play with his son, and Nate cannot help but marvel over the change that has occurred within his best friend. There is no offer of scotch when the three reach the living, only an offer of an evening of playing with Henry before the missus comes home.

"Hey, Henry," Nate says as he sits down on the floor next to Chuck and picks up a bright red block. "Can you say block?"

"No, blockhead," Chuck replies as he tosses his own block at Nate's head. "He has to say 'Dada'."

"Henry, can you say Mama?"

"No," Chuck smoothly interjects. "Say Dada, Henry."

"Mama," Blair retorts with a firm glare at her husband. "Say Mama."

"Dada," Chuck corrects.

"Alright you two," Serena bemoans from her seat. Blair and Chuck stop their bickering but never break eye contact in their determination to wear the other one down.

"Henry should say Mama first," Blair snaps as she settles back into her chair and crosses her arms.

"Why?" Chuck questions.

"Because I carried him for forty-one weeks. I gave birth to him," Blair cries out indignantly. "He owes me."

"Without me, he wouldn't even be here," Chuck retorts. "He owes me."

"So because I had sex with you, he should say Dada first? That doesn't make sense. You're just upset because he wouldn't say Dada even after you bought him a giant stuffed animal."

"Well, we can't all bribe him with trips to the duck pond, can we?"

Henry turns his head, looks from one parent to the next from his seat in the highchair between them at the dining table. And then he looks across the table at his godparents with a look of confusion, almost as if to say that he needs to be rescued from this madness.

"Enough," Serena cries out, coming to her nephew's rescue. Blair and Chuck freeze, look guiltily towards the blonde. "Hand over the baby."

Chuck moves first, undoes Henry's seatbelt and lifts him out of his highchair before handing him across the dining room table into Serena's waiting arms. The blonde woman holds him close, settles back into her chair and adjusts him in her lap.

"I don't know why you two are arguing," Serena says as she hands Henry the bread roll off her plate that she will not eat to chew on. "Henry's going to say Aunt Serena first."

"No," his parents sharply reject from across the table before dissolving back into an argument over Mama versus Dada.

"No wonder Henry doesn't talk," Nate mutters under his breath. "You can't get a word in edgewise around here."

His comments are not spoken quietly enough, though. He earns two identical glares from the brunettes seated across the table followed by a pile of mashed potatoes flung at his face. He turns his head, finds the culprit staring back at him from his seat in Serena's lap.

Serena tries to stifle a laugh. In fact, everyone at the table save for Nate and Henry try to stifle laughs. Blair calls for Dorota as she scoops Henry out of Serena's lap. Chuck offers Nate his napkin to clean up with, and both parents eventually step in to correct the baby's behavior.

"I think it's best if we call it a night," Blair informs them as she and Dorota both wipe down the little boy's messy hands.

Her husband nods in agreement, pulls out his phone and calls Arthur to drive Nate and Serena home because it would be rude to send the pair off in taxis after their son threw food, staining Serena's dress and Nate's suit in the process. Chuck and Blair escort them to the front steps with a smiling Henry in Blair's arms. His godmother kisses him goodbye and his godfather pounds his tiny fist in an acceptance of his unspoken apology before the blondes sweep down the steps and offer their godson a view of the awaiting limo.

"Lee-moe," Henry cries as he throws his body away from his mother towards the shiny, black vehicle.

"Did he –" Chuck and Blair question at the same time.

"Lee-moe!"

They both look from Henry to the limo and then to each other to their best friends paused halfway down the steps. Henry cries out once more, causing Nate to pull out his wallet with a frustrated sigh.

"Here," he says as he offers Serena a crisp hundred dollar bill. The blonde woman gleefully plucks it out of his hand, and then marches up the stairs to place a grateful kiss on Henry's head.

"Thank you, Henry," Serena says before smoothing down the little boy's messy brown hair. She catches the look on Chuck and Blair's faces, offers them a shrug as she fills them in on what just transpired in front of their home. "Nate and I made our own little bet. He said Henry would say 'scheme' first, but I bet him that Henry would say 'limo'."

"Lee-moe!" Henry yells, echoing the word spoken by his Aunt Serena. "Lee-moe!"

"Yes, baby," Blair confirms as she plants a kiss against the little boy's head. "Limo. That's a limo."

Henry twists his body, looks up to his father with excited eyes as he exclaims over the car once more. His father laughs, reaches out to stroke the little boy's head as he repeats the word back at him.

"Look how smart you are," Chuck praises.

"I should have known your son's first word would be limo," Blair says in mock exasperation.

"He's a Bass," Chuck replies. "He knows what's sacred in life."