fic: Things We've Always Had (part 10)
Title: Things We've Always Had (Part 10)
Author: Air (klingy12 @ fanfiction.net)
Summary: A series of one-shot drabbles covering Chuck and Blair's relationship from kindergarten to the present day.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, or its characters.
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Hey everyone. Sorry this has taken me a terribly long time to update. I could not think of this for the life of me, and then 2x14 happened and there was no way I could write light and fluffy after that. So I expended my writing energy by doing a one-shot, "Drive". Check that out if you'd like, it's kind of like my baby and needs some love. But Blair's comment in 2x14 about how Chuck always left and came back with his tie perfectly knotted gave me some inspiration. Let me know how this turned out please! I'm really curious because I played around with a more sexual, dark tone. But there's still good old school CB banter. Also thanks to my lovely and dedicated Lynne, and also to Dawn for lending a hand. Enjoy!
Previous Chapters:
1 - Kindergarten
2 - First Grade
3 - Second Grade
4 - Third Grade
5 - Fourth Grade
6 - Fifth Grade
7 - Sixth Grade
8 - Seventh Grade
9 - Eighth Grade
+Plus, this fic is now available on fanfiction.net right here if you prefer.
Blair was in her living room, lounging on the couch and working on her physics homework. It was a particularly frigid day in late February, and Dorota had made her some organic imported Rooibos tea in an attempt to help her concentrate. The mug was steaming next her in a picturesque way that was supposed to make winter seem more bearable, but she was strumming her pen on her notebook and lacked the usual satisfying focus she acquired when doing her schoolwork.
After several minutes she threw her pen down, a soft thud erupting from the surface of the paper. She reached for her phone and opened it furiously. She dialed.
“Blaho večer, milenec!”
“What the hell is that, Chuck?” she asked, annoyed.
“It’s Czech.”
“Prague this time, is it?”
“Praha is actually the preferred pronunciation.”
“Coming home anytime soon?” she digressed.
“Miss me, Waldorf?” Chuck drawled on the other line.
“Not particularly, no….Hold on, someone’s at the elevator.” She muffled her phone with her hand. “Dorota! Are we expecting some-“
The elevator chimed and the door slithered in between walls, revealing none other than Chuck Bass, phone to ear.
“I think you did miss me. Just a hunch. You did call in the middle of the night,” he said into the phone before snapping it shut in his hand.
“It’s eight o’clock!” Blair was ejected from her chair, the shock at seeing him in the flesh rocketing her to her feet.
“Not in Praha,” Chuck reprimanded with a wave of his finger.
“What are you doing here?”
He had taken off President’s Day Weekend-no big deal, Kati and Iz jetted to London for the four day holiday every year-but when Chuck had failed to return on Tuesday after the next week of school had resumed, and the next weekend had subsequently rolled around, something was not right.
“Oh, so you didn’t want me to return?” he asked playfully, while deliberately depriving her of the explanation she wanted.
“No I mean here! Have you even stopped home yet?”
Blair shook her head; she had called him expecting him to be on another continent where tomorrow had already begun. But here he was, standing in her living room not two feet in front of her, like an apparition.
“I’m staying at Nathaniel’s tonight. Bart gave me specific instructions to return to the apartment on Monday. Something about Maxim models.” Chuck smirked but his eyes were shadowed with an honesty that she had never seen. His pupils were slightly dilated, a glint of resentment pooling in their dark depths.
She cleared her throat slightly, humbled. She was uncomfortable. And all of a sudden she realized she had already changed for bed and her navy blue silk negligee was less clothing than even Nate had seen her in.
Chuck had noticed this when she had looked down self-consciously to examine herself and he took the opportunity to move closer to her. The lace trim of the garment scooped delicately across her chest, just high enough to hide any sign of a shadowed curve to her breast. The lace on the other end flapped against her, falling well above her knees at mid thigh.
Blair looked up and his eyes were closer to her, still with the same cloudy kind of emotion that wasn’t supposed to exist in him. She had never directly met his eyes with her own and it could prove to be her undoing. A person never really met pupil with pupil so deliberately unless he meant to; it’s like two people who are fully clothed are stripped of everything and left naked, with nothing.
Her eyes fluttered down and she reached out slowly to the lapels of his jacket and tucked her tiny hands underneath them.
“Ugh, don’t tell me you’ve been wearing the same thing for ten hours. Your jacket is a mess. Look at these creases!” She was using her Nate voice. It was strange. He hated the syrupy tone, yet at the same time loved the oddly sweet insincerity behind it.
She began to run her hands briskly over his jacket, smoothing out the small imperfections. If his tie weren’t perfectly knotted, she would have had a better excuse in straightening it; he knew she didn’t like sloppy ties. Fortunately, the simple solution of dry cleaning didn’t exist at the moment because she needed it not to exist; she needed to bring up something other than Bart Bass and the issues he stirred in his son. She did not want to tread there. Anything but honesty and sharing.
“I might have been serviced by a particularly eager flight attendant,” he whispered, and leaned his face down entirely too close to hers.
Her hands stopped smoothing.
“Katarina,” he breathed in her ear. Warm and humid.
Her hands roughly fisted at his lapels, twisting the material harshly and yanking him even closer to her frame.
“Why are you here, Bass?” she gritted angrily from her clenched jaw.
He grimaced at her uncomfortable hold on him. “I have a gift for you, Waldorf,” he spat out in indignation. She let him go and he stepped back from her, his breath no longer reaching out to her skin. “Here,” he said and reached into his inner jacket pocket to pull out a flask shaped bottle with an iridescent green liquid sloshing around inside.
“Absinthe?” Blair gawked. “Are you kidding me?”
“It’s the good stuff. Western European product is shit,” he defended and advanced on her again. She was so fucking aggravating. She met his gaze defiantly, challenging him, daring him to stand up to her judgmental reaction to his present.
But then again, he knew she would.
“You put some sugar in this baby and light it on fire and the liquoricely anise just glides right down and on through you until you see sparks. It’s warm too…” How could he possibly make a hallucinatory, illegal, alcoholic substance sound sexy? Blair was furious. Was he even talking about the liquor anymore?
“Okay, time for you go,” she hissed and grabbed his worn lapel again, dragging him back to the elevator from which he’d emerged. She was certainly giving the flaps a workout tonight.
“And here I thought you could give me that tutoring session you were assigned from Mr. Balboa. I know how badly you want to clock in those community service hours Blair. Come on, dress the hot teacher part-tight pencil skirt, slightly see through blouse, glasses and a neat French twist-I just might listen and be a good boy.”
Blair shoved Chuck roughly and unceremoniously into the elevator.
“You’re sordid.”
“Maybe I’ll re-gift to Serena, at least she’ll know how to have a good time!” He yelled as the door closed between them.
She seethed. He always had to have the last word. He always knew exactly what to exploit to make her squirm and stew in her insecurities.
Blair stormed upstairs, neglecting her homework and the cozy winter atmosphere while Chuck exited the Waldorf residence, satisfied.
He was glad to be back.
Author: Air (klingy12 @ fanfiction.net)
Summary: A series of one-shot drabbles covering Chuck and Blair's relationship from kindergarten to the present day.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, or its characters.
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Hey everyone. Sorry this has taken me a terribly long time to update. I could not think of this for the life of me, and then 2x14 happened and there was no way I could write light and fluffy after that. So I expended my writing energy by doing a one-shot, "Drive". Check that out if you'd like, it's kind of like my baby and needs some love. But Blair's comment in 2x14 about how Chuck always left and came back with his tie perfectly knotted gave me some inspiration. Let me know how this turned out please! I'm really curious because I played around with a more sexual, dark tone. But there's still good old school CB banter. Also thanks to my lovely and dedicated Lynne, and also to Dawn for lending a hand. Enjoy!
Previous Chapters:
1 - Kindergarten
2 - First Grade
3 - Second Grade
4 - Third Grade
5 - Fourth Grade
6 - Fifth Grade
7 - Sixth Grade
8 - Seventh Grade
9 - Eighth Grade
+Plus, this fic is now available on fanfiction.net right here if you prefer.
Blair was in her living room, lounging on the couch and working on her physics homework. It was a particularly frigid day in late February, and Dorota had made her some organic imported Rooibos tea in an attempt to help her concentrate. The mug was steaming next her in a picturesque way that was supposed to make winter seem more bearable, but she was strumming her pen on her notebook and lacked the usual satisfying focus she acquired when doing her schoolwork.
After several minutes she threw her pen down, a soft thud erupting from the surface of the paper. She reached for her phone and opened it furiously. She dialed.
“Blaho večer, milenec!”
“What the hell is that, Chuck?” she asked, annoyed.
“It’s Czech.”
“Prague this time, is it?”
“Praha is actually the preferred pronunciation.”
“Coming home anytime soon?” she digressed.
“Miss me, Waldorf?” Chuck drawled on the other line.
“Not particularly, no….Hold on, someone’s at the elevator.” She muffled her phone with her hand. “Dorota! Are we expecting some-“
The elevator chimed and the door slithered in between walls, revealing none other than Chuck Bass, phone to ear.
“I think you did miss me. Just a hunch. You did call in the middle of the night,” he said into the phone before snapping it shut in his hand.
“It’s eight o’clock!” Blair was ejected from her chair, the shock at seeing him in the flesh rocketing her to her feet.
“Not in Praha,” Chuck reprimanded with a wave of his finger.
“What are you doing here?”
He had taken off President’s Day Weekend-no big deal, Kati and Iz jetted to London for the four day holiday every year-but when Chuck had failed to return on Tuesday after the next week of school had resumed, and the next weekend had subsequently rolled around, something was not right.
“Oh, so you didn’t want me to return?” he asked playfully, while deliberately depriving her of the explanation she wanted.
“No I mean here! Have you even stopped home yet?”
Blair shook her head; she had called him expecting him to be on another continent where tomorrow had already begun. But here he was, standing in her living room not two feet in front of her, like an apparition.
“I’m staying at Nathaniel’s tonight. Bart gave me specific instructions to return to the apartment on Monday. Something about Maxim models.” Chuck smirked but his eyes were shadowed with an honesty that she had never seen. His pupils were slightly dilated, a glint of resentment pooling in their dark depths.
She cleared her throat slightly, humbled. She was uncomfortable. And all of a sudden she realized she had already changed for bed and her navy blue silk negligee was less clothing than even Nate had seen her in.
Chuck had noticed this when she had looked down self-consciously to examine herself and he took the opportunity to move closer to her. The lace trim of the garment scooped delicately across her chest, just high enough to hide any sign of a shadowed curve to her breast. The lace on the other end flapped against her, falling well above her knees at mid thigh.
Blair looked up and his eyes were closer to her, still with the same cloudy kind of emotion that wasn’t supposed to exist in him. She had never directly met his eyes with her own and it could prove to be her undoing. A person never really met pupil with pupil so deliberately unless he meant to; it’s like two people who are fully clothed are stripped of everything and left naked, with nothing.
Her eyes fluttered down and she reached out slowly to the lapels of his jacket and tucked her tiny hands underneath them.
“Ugh, don’t tell me you’ve been wearing the same thing for ten hours. Your jacket is a mess. Look at these creases!” She was using her Nate voice. It was strange. He hated the syrupy tone, yet at the same time loved the oddly sweet insincerity behind it.
She began to run her hands briskly over his jacket, smoothing out the small imperfections. If his tie weren’t perfectly knotted, she would have had a better excuse in straightening it; he knew she didn’t like sloppy ties. Fortunately, the simple solution of dry cleaning didn’t exist at the moment because she needed it not to exist; she needed to bring up something other than Bart Bass and the issues he stirred in his son. She did not want to tread there. Anything but honesty and sharing.
“I might have been serviced by a particularly eager flight attendant,” he whispered, and leaned his face down entirely too close to hers.
Her hands stopped smoothing.
“Katarina,” he breathed in her ear. Warm and humid.
Her hands roughly fisted at his lapels, twisting the material harshly and yanking him even closer to her frame.
“Why are you here, Bass?” she gritted angrily from her clenched jaw.
He grimaced at her uncomfortable hold on him. “I have a gift for you, Waldorf,” he spat out in indignation. She let him go and he stepped back from her, his breath no longer reaching out to her skin. “Here,” he said and reached into his inner jacket pocket to pull out a flask shaped bottle with an iridescent green liquid sloshing around inside.
“Absinthe?” Blair gawked. “Are you kidding me?”
“It’s the good stuff. Western European product is shit,” he defended and advanced on her again. She was so fucking aggravating. She met his gaze defiantly, challenging him, daring him to stand up to her judgmental reaction to his present.
But then again, he knew she would.
“You put some sugar in this baby and light it on fire and the liquoricely anise just glides right down and on through you until you see sparks. It’s warm too…” How could he possibly make a hallucinatory, illegal, alcoholic substance sound sexy? Blair was furious. Was he even talking about the liquor anymore?
“Okay, time for you go,” she hissed and grabbed his worn lapel again, dragging him back to the elevator from which he’d emerged. She was certainly giving the flaps a workout tonight.
“And here I thought you could give me that tutoring session you were assigned from Mr. Balboa. I know how badly you want to clock in those community service hours Blair. Come on, dress the hot teacher part-tight pencil skirt, slightly see through blouse, glasses and a neat French twist-I just might listen and be a good boy.”
Blair shoved Chuck roughly and unceremoniously into the elevator.
“You’re sordid.”
“Maybe I’ll re-gift to Serena, at least she’ll know how to have a good time!” He yelled as the door closed between them.
She seethed. He always had to have the last word. He always knew exactly what to exploit to make her squirm and stew in her insecurities.
Blair stormed upstairs, neglecting her homework and the cozy winter atmosphere while Chuck exited the Waldorf residence, satisfied.
He was glad to be back.