fic: Things We've Always Had (part 11)
Title: Things We've Always Had (Part 11)
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: This is my longest one! I honestly could not stop writing. I had to cut myself off. Anyway, here's part one of tenth grade, which means yes, there will be a tenth grade part two. Please read and review it really encourages me to keep going, especially if I'm going to continue on into the timeline of the series. As always, thanks to my beta, Lynne! You are wonderful!
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
10 - Ninth Grade
+Plus, this fic is now available on fanfiction.net right here if you prefer.
“B we’re going to have so much fun!” Serena clapped and giggled after she and Blair had finally made it inside Tunnel. The club’s music was perfect; mixing dance pop rock with rhythm rap and Serena was ready to go.
“If you say so.” Blair was apprehensive; she had been to house parties before, but never this. When Serena had concocted the idea that they were old enough and hot enough to get into nightclubs, Blair had insisted that they shell out the necessary three hundred dollars for fake ID’s anyway.
They hadn’t needed them at the entrance.
“Come on, B. What are we drinking?” Serena paused and ran a finger along her glossed lips for a moment. “I know! Cosmos. Cosmos have to be our drink of the night. I’ll go get us the first round.”
“First and only for me thanks!” Blair yelled after her exasperatedly. Serena didn’t turn around.
Blair loitered by the entrance for several minutes, waiting for Nate to arrive and for Serena to return back from the bar. Left completely alone for what seemed like enough time that if she held her breath she would most certainly turn blue and die. She felt awkward on the inside and was consciously trying to come up with a stance that exuded confidence and entitlement.
“And the wife’s here. Guess your fun is dead for the night, Nathaniel,” a familiar voice stood out behind her. Blair turned around to face Chuck and Nate headed towards her. Chuck neglected to acknowledge Blair, brushing rudely past her on his way to the bar, only to throw his head back to ask “Drinking Nate?”
“Vodka and tonic. Belvedere,” Nate answered and devoted his attention to Blair. “Hi sweetie,” he greeted and kissed her sweetly.
“Hi,” she smiled into his lips.
“Where’s Serena?”
“She’s getting me a drink. You going to dance with me tonight?”
“Hmmm, you mean the foxtrot we learned at cotillion practice this month? Are you sure this is the right place?”
Blair batted her eyelashes and swatted at Nate’s arm playfully. “I mean it!”
Serena’s golden hair bobbed amongst the dark crowd before them and she appeared triumphantly juggling the reddish-pink drinks in her hands. “Here here here, take it B!” She shoved the martini glass in her friend’s hand. “Hey Nate. Ok ready, B? Let’s toast!”
The glasses clinked, and the two sipped. Blair liked the sweet taste of the liquid.
“Ok, now let’s shove our way to the bar. Chuck is lining up tequila shots for us!” Serena lead their way into the masses.
Blair thought she’d stick to her current drink.
Fifteen tequila shots for three and a single finished Cosmo later, Serena had found a young, hot professional looking man to dance with and Nate was sent to try to pay off the manager to reserve a leather booth for the group.
“Another little pink drink, B?” Chuck had approached Blair, leaning against the bar.
She rolled her eyes. So now he was talking to her. “I’m good, thanks,” she replied icily. She played with the plastic umbrella left in her empty glass.
“Let me guess. You don’t like losing control? Afraid you’ll do something…” Chuck reached slowly across her and picked the umbrella from her fingers. “Bad?” He waved the umbrella up to the bartender, signaling that another drink was needed.
“I drink enough, Chuck. I just don’t like being sloppy and stupid like-“
“Like Serena?” he interrupted, partially due to the fact that the woman in question was making her way back to them.
“B!” Serena squealed and threw her arms around her. Blair glared at Chuck, who smirked as her drink was placed in front of her. “Oh, another! B I knew you had it in you. Come on, I want to have fun with you. I hate only partying with Georgy.”
Blair’s eyes widened, her body tensed, unnoticed by Serena, before it relaxed again and Blair let out a defeated breath. “Ok,” she said simply, picked up the glass by its stem and downed it all in one gulp. The glass stung on the countertop.
“You do know what’s in those things don’t you?” Chuck asked her. She didn’t.
“Get me another,” she ordered.
Four Cosmopolitans later, the bass from the music vibrated and thumped in her chest, helping her to fall in place with the tempo. Her fingers felt further away from her body and her inhibitions were lost somewhere in the crowd. Dancing with drunk Serena was much more fun than judging drunk Serena, and her friend was no longer a bubbly nuisance, but the most fun person in the world and an excellent dance partner.
After some time Serena leaned in to Blair’s ear and yelled. “Listen, I’ll be right back!”
“What? where are you going?”
“Don’t even worry about it, B. Here here, Nate’s over there. Come on you can dance all sexy with him.” Serena grasped Blair’s hand and handed her off to Nate by the bar. She patted him on the back. “Dance with her, dammit and be a good boy,” then she turned to Blair. “Come on, right here,” she said in a cute, girly voice, tapping her slightly pursed lips with her finger. Blair obliged and pecked Serena on the lips and giggled. “Be right back, B.”
Blair hated what was called grinding, or gyrating, or whatever dry humping, mating call was typically qualified as contemporary dancing for the untrained. She found it dirty and demeaning, so when she followed Nate to the center of the club she faced him, pressed their bodies together and danced. It was slightly more tasteful than some of the dancing she had seen Serena do, but she moved with him and locked her arms under his armpits, grasping at his shoulders and letting the thumping in her core take over. She was drunk. Very drunk. She pressed for more, trying to grind her hips into his, but Nate pulled back every time she pushed forward.
“Blair, come on. You hate this,” Nate chided her.
“No,” she drawled into his ear and grabbed his lobe between her teeth lightly. “I like this.” Nate knew his girlfriend and this was certainly not her. He’d never seen her noticeably drunk and he’d never seen her so open with her desire. He was uncomfortable and slightly confused. Luckily, his vibrating phone prevented him from thoroughly furrowing his brow and he delved his hand into his pocket to fish for the thing.
“Nate, just leave it,” Blair purred and stopped his hand in his pocket, resting her own over the material, strumming her thumb dangerously close to the bulge in his pants. He gulped and pulled his hand swiftly out of his pocket, bringing his phone along with him. He flipped it open to check his inbox.
“Uh, Blair I have to go. Serena. Don’t worry, nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” And he was gone among the sweaty, indistinguishable clump of bodies. Blair pouted, feeling alone, until a waiter with a tray full of drinks brushed by her and she claimed a mystery concoction for her own.
Soon enough she was sipping her new drink, barely recognizing the taste, and an arm had slung itself around her waist and pulled her against the body that matched it. The arm held onto her tightly. She didn’t recognize it, but caved to the thump again and she began to dance, meeting the rhythm of the mystery body behind her. Her drink sloshed back and forth and spilled over the sides of the glass, smacking the floor at her feet. She hardly noticed the sticky liquid clinging to her ankles.
“Excuse me. I was promised a dance,” a low, raspy voice drawled, almost too low to be audible above the music.
“Hey!” she protested, but the arm let go of her stomach and she stumbled on her heels. Large, firm hands grabbed her hips and jerked her up against a taut, hard body. She looked up. “Chuck!” she squealed and tried to break free from his hold.
“You really shouldn’t be dancing like that with strangers. What would Nate say?”
“Let me go!” His hands tightened and his fingers dug into her hips.
“I’m just keeping you safe until he returns for you. Can’t have you taken advantage of.”
Blair relaxed and pouted. She brought her drink to her lips and downed the rest of it.
“Waldorf do you even know what that was?” She shook her head and found a stray tray passing by to discard her empty glass. She reached for another unknown drink. “You should slow down,” Chuck warned.
“You’re lecturing me now? Oh, ok, ok. You know what Bass? I don’t think you’re drunk enough for my liking!” Her eyes sparkled as she realized she hit a nerve. Chuck’s features hardened and his fingers were probably leaving bruises at her sides. She feigned innocence. “Oh, I would give you my drink, but then you’d have to let go of my hips with one of your hands and Nate would reprimand you for not protecting me properly.”
“Well I guess that leaves only one option,” Chuck replied calmly.
“And what’s that?”
“You’ll just have to feed me your drink.” Victory. Blair slung her left arm over Chuck’s shoulder and leaned her side against him, while her right hand held the prized drink.
“Here. Now please be properly drunk after this,” she conceded and held the glass to his lips. They were deliciously full, probably from making out with about seven girls right before this, and his razor sharp jaw line became more pronounced when he parted them slightly. He took a sip. “Hurry.” Blair’s left hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back so that she could pour the liquid as quickly down his throat as he could gulp.
“Fuck, Blair,” Chuck growled.
“At least it wasn’t perfume this time. Is it working? It better be because I sure as hell can’t keep up with your alcoholism.”
It was working. He felt warmer. His fingers on her hips seared and he was afraid he was burning her. He looked down at her. She was a firecracker when drunk. She wasn’t sweet, she definitely wasn’t stupid, she was more fierce, slightly sloppy, but a spitfire nonetheless.
“Dance with me,” he rasped.
“No, ew!” She said but her body began to sway as his followed.
“Have to keep you occupied until Nate comes back to claim you. Unless you’d rather sit.”
She shook her head violently. “No. I don’t want to sit. I want to dance. Just not with you.”
“You don’t have a choice, Blair.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Very.”
“How much?”
“Five shots of tequila, three whiskey tumblers, a gin and tonic and whatever you just gave me.”
“Chuck Bass…” she began and paused. Blair’s hands found his collar, unaccompanied by a tie tonight and slightly open. She held his shirt tightly and her forehead rested against his chest, just under his chin as they began to dance. “Dance with me. Really dance,” she commanded.
“But I’m the one who-“ Chuck began to protest when she began to move against him deliberately and provocatively.
Movements that only about two inches of free space from the next sweaty person would allow. Chuck spun her around so that her back was against him and he pressed his pelvis against the tight material stretched across her backside. One strong arm wrapped around her stomach and held her against him as their respective bottom halves ground against the other’s in time to the thumping of the bass in their chests. Her eyes were closed and her arm found its way to his hair and her other lay atop his own, strewn across her stomach.
His lips were dangerously close to her neck. Her slightly perspiring, but still enticingly aromatic neck, bare in front of him. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck but neglected to caress, kiss, nibble, graze. He just pressed.
“Chuck,” she said softly, gulping in order to find her voice.
“Hmm?” he asked, disinterested in her speaking at the moment.
“Take me to the bathroom?” she asked meekly.
“Women’s or men’s?” he asked seductively, purposefully misinterpreting her request.
“Women’s.”
“You’re right. Cleaner. More your style,” he whispered.
“I think I might die,” she said.
Chuck stopped his movements against her. “Come on,” he said and held her in front of him, hands still on hips as he guided her wobbly and unbalanced frame to the bathroom. “I’m not holding your hair back.”
“Good,” she responded spitefully, lacking the coherency to come up with a biting retort.
“Watch your step, Waldorf,” Chuck growled when Blair caught the top of a step with the toe of her shoe and failed to properly plant the heel. She fell backwards against him and he propelled her upright.
“Don’t be bossy.” Blair was becoming belligerent and tried to pull away from him.
“Blair, you can’t even stand.”
“Can too.” And when she wriggled again he let go of her and she slammed into the door of the ladies’ restroom with a dull thud and an unintelligible expletive.
“Want to argue with me some more?” Chuck asked smugly as he held onto her once again and led her through the open door. She pouted and resigned. “That’s what I thought.”
“Chuck?” Nate’s voice called out unsteadily from an open stall. “Are you bringing a girl in here because I don’t really think that’s such a good-“
“It’s Blair,” Chuck told him distractedly.
“What?” Nate turned around to witness his best friend steadily holding up his girlfriend and leading her to the stall next to his.
Chuck peeked past Nate. “I see our girls did well tonight,” he quipped at the sight of Serena sprawled out in front of the toilet with her head dipped over into the bowl. Nate was dutifully holding her hair back.
“I found her making out with an investment banker. She was very proud of his profession.”
“Figures. Didn’t she do that last week at PJ Clarkes?” Blair mumbled from her assigned cubicle.
“Don’t you have some vomiting to do?” Chuck asked her as he leaned against the dividing material of the stalls and languidly pulled out a cigarette from his jacket pocket.
“Hey man, I can’t take care of both of them. Can you help me out? Please,” Nate pleaded with Chuck and directed his eyes over to the direction of Blair.
Chuck rolled his eyes but relented. He peered down at her figure. Her simple and very little Gucci dress was hugging her upper thighs and one of her straps had fallen off of her shoulder. Her hair splayed all around her and a fallen curl stuck to her cheek from the slight sheen of her earlier exertions. Chuck settled down behind her, propping her upright by placing his knees on either side of her thighs. His hand delicately swept her hair back and his fingers involuntarily grazed the nape of her neck.
“I thought you weren’t going to hold my hair back,” she stated quietly.
“Promised Nate,” he whispered back.
“Oh.” She reached her hand behind her and placed it atop of Chuck’s. It rested there for a moment before she yanked her tresses away from his feather light grip and simultaneously wretched into the toilet.
“It’s not like I don’t know how to do it,” she said as she stifled a sob.
“What the hell does that mean?” Chuck asked but she wretched again. He rolled his eyes and grimaced. “Nate!” he called.
“Yeah?” replied the voice on the other side.
“We’re going out alone next weekend,” Chuck barked.
Nate laughed. “I owe you one.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
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: This is my longest one! I honestly could not stop writing. I had to cut myself off. Anyway, here's part one of tenth grade, which means yes, there will be a tenth grade part two. Please read and review it really encourages me to keep going, especially if I'm going to continue on into the timeline of the series. As always, thanks to my beta, Lynne! You are wonderful!
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
10 - Ninth Grade
+Plus, this fic is now available on fanfiction.net right here if you prefer.
“B we’re going to have so much fun!” Serena clapped and giggled after she and Blair had finally made it inside Tunnel. The club’s music was perfect; mixing dance pop rock with rhythm rap and Serena was ready to go.
“If you say so.” Blair was apprehensive; she had been to house parties before, but never this. When Serena had concocted the idea that they were old enough and hot enough to get into nightclubs, Blair had insisted that they shell out the necessary three hundred dollars for fake ID’s anyway.
They hadn’t needed them at the entrance.
“Come on, B. What are we drinking?” Serena paused and ran a finger along her glossed lips for a moment. “I know! Cosmos. Cosmos have to be our drink of the night. I’ll go get us the first round.”
“First and only for me thanks!” Blair yelled after her exasperatedly. Serena didn’t turn around.
Blair loitered by the entrance for several minutes, waiting for Nate to arrive and for Serena to return back from the bar. Left completely alone for what seemed like enough time that if she held her breath she would most certainly turn blue and die. She felt awkward on the inside and was consciously trying to come up with a stance that exuded confidence and entitlement.
“And the wife’s here. Guess your fun is dead for the night, Nathaniel,” a familiar voice stood out behind her. Blair turned around to face Chuck and Nate headed towards her. Chuck neglected to acknowledge Blair, brushing rudely past her on his way to the bar, only to throw his head back to ask “Drinking Nate?”
“Vodka and tonic. Belvedere,” Nate answered and devoted his attention to Blair. “Hi sweetie,” he greeted and kissed her sweetly.
“Hi,” she smiled into his lips.
“Where’s Serena?”
“She’s getting me a drink. You going to dance with me tonight?”
“Hmmm, you mean the foxtrot we learned at cotillion practice this month? Are you sure this is the right place?”
Blair batted her eyelashes and swatted at Nate’s arm playfully. “I mean it!”
Serena’s golden hair bobbed amongst the dark crowd before them and she appeared triumphantly juggling the reddish-pink drinks in her hands. “Here here here, take it B!” She shoved the martini glass in her friend’s hand. “Hey Nate. Ok ready, B? Let’s toast!”
The glasses clinked, and the two sipped. Blair liked the sweet taste of the liquid.
“Ok, now let’s shove our way to the bar. Chuck is lining up tequila shots for us!” Serena lead their way into the masses.
Blair thought she’d stick to her current drink.
Fifteen tequila shots for three and a single finished Cosmo later, Serena had found a young, hot professional looking man to dance with and Nate was sent to try to pay off the manager to reserve a leather booth for the group.
“Another little pink drink, B?” Chuck had approached Blair, leaning against the bar.
She rolled her eyes. So now he was talking to her. “I’m good, thanks,” she replied icily. She played with the plastic umbrella left in her empty glass.
“Let me guess. You don’t like losing control? Afraid you’ll do something…” Chuck reached slowly across her and picked the umbrella from her fingers. “Bad?” He waved the umbrella up to the bartender, signaling that another drink was needed.
“I drink enough, Chuck. I just don’t like being sloppy and stupid like-“
“Like Serena?” he interrupted, partially due to the fact that the woman in question was making her way back to them.
“B!” Serena squealed and threw her arms around her. Blair glared at Chuck, who smirked as her drink was placed in front of her. “Oh, another! B I knew you had it in you. Come on, I want to have fun with you. I hate only partying with Georgy.”
Blair’s eyes widened, her body tensed, unnoticed by Serena, before it relaxed again and Blair let out a defeated breath. “Ok,” she said simply, picked up the glass by its stem and downed it all in one gulp. The glass stung on the countertop.
“You do know what’s in those things don’t you?” Chuck asked her. She didn’t.
“Get me another,” she ordered.
Four Cosmopolitans later, the bass from the music vibrated and thumped in her chest, helping her to fall in place with the tempo. Her fingers felt further away from her body and her inhibitions were lost somewhere in the crowd. Dancing with drunk Serena was much more fun than judging drunk Serena, and her friend was no longer a bubbly nuisance, but the most fun person in the world and an excellent dance partner.
After some time Serena leaned in to Blair’s ear and yelled. “Listen, I’ll be right back!”
“What? where are you going?”
“Don’t even worry about it, B. Here here, Nate’s over there. Come on you can dance all sexy with him.” Serena grasped Blair’s hand and handed her off to Nate by the bar. She patted him on the back. “Dance with her, dammit and be a good boy,” then she turned to Blair. “Come on, right here,” she said in a cute, girly voice, tapping her slightly pursed lips with her finger. Blair obliged and pecked Serena on the lips and giggled. “Be right back, B.”
Blair hated what was called grinding, or gyrating, or whatever dry humping, mating call was typically qualified as contemporary dancing for the untrained. She found it dirty and demeaning, so when she followed Nate to the center of the club she faced him, pressed their bodies together and danced. It was slightly more tasteful than some of the dancing she had seen Serena do, but she moved with him and locked her arms under his armpits, grasping at his shoulders and letting the thumping in her core take over. She was drunk. Very drunk. She pressed for more, trying to grind her hips into his, but Nate pulled back every time she pushed forward.
“Blair, come on. You hate this,” Nate chided her.
“No,” she drawled into his ear and grabbed his lobe between her teeth lightly. “I like this.” Nate knew his girlfriend and this was certainly not her. He’d never seen her noticeably drunk and he’d never seen her so open with her desire. He was uncomfortable and slightly confused. Luckily, his vibrating phone prevented him from thoroughly furrowing his brow and he delved his hand into his pocket to fish for the thing.
“Nate, just leave it,” Blair purred and stopped his hand in his pocket, resting her own over the material, strumming her thumb dangerously close to the bulge in his pants. He gulped and pulled his hand swiftly out of his pocket, bringing his phone along with him. He flipped it open to check his inbox.
“Uh, Blair I have to go. Serena. Don’t worry, nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” And he was gone among the sweaty, indistinguishable clump of bodies. Blair pouted, feeling alone, until a waiter with a tray full of drinks brushed by her and she claimed a mystery concoction for her own.
Soon enough she was sipping her new drink, barely recognizing the taste, and an arm had slung itself around her waist and pulled her against the body that matched it. The arm held onto her tightly. She didn’t recognize it, but caved to the thump again and she began to dance, meeting the rhythm of the mystery body behind her. Her drink sloshed back and forth and spilled over the sides of the glass, smacking the floor at her feet. She hardly noticed the sticky liquid clinging to her ankles.
“Excuse me. I was promised a dance,” a low, raspy voice drawled, almost too low to be audible above the music.
“Hey!” she protested, but the arm let go of her stomach and she stumbled on her heels. Large, firm hands grabbed her hips and jerked her up against a taut, hard body. She looked up. “Chuck!” she squealed and tried to break free from his hold.
“You really shouldn’t be dancing like that with strangers. What would Nate say?”
“Let me go!” His hands tightened and his fingers dug into her hips.
“I’m just keeping you safe until he returns for you. Can’t have you taken advantage of.”
Blair relaxed and pouted. She brought her drink to her lips and downed the rest of it.
“Waldorf do you even know what that was?” She shook her head and found a stray tray passing by to discard her empty glass. She reached for another unknown drink. “You should slow down,” Chuck warned.
“You’re lecturing me now? Oh, ok, ok. You know what Bass? I don’t think you’re drunk enough for my liking!” Her eyes sparkled as she realized she hit a nerve. Chuck’s features hardened and his fingers were probably leaving bruises at her sides. She feigned innocence. “Oh, I would give you my drink, but then you’d have to let go of my hips with one of your hands and Nate would reprimand you for not protecting me properly.”
“Well I guess that leaves only one option,” Chuck replied calmly.
“And what’s that?”
“You’ll just have to feed me your drink.” Victory. Blair slung her left arm over Chuck’s shoulder and leaned her side against him, while her right hand held the prized drink.
“Here. Now please be properly drunk after this,” she conceded and held the glass to his lips. They were deliciously full, probably from making out with about seven girls right before this, and his razor sharp jaw line became more pronounced when he parted them slightly. He took a sip. “Hurry.” Blair’s left hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back so that she could pour the liquid as quickly down his throat as he could gulp.
“Fuck, Blair,” Chuck growled.
“At least it wasn’t perfume this time. Is it working? It better be because I sure as hell can’t keep up with your alcoholism.”
It was working. He felt warmer. His fingers on her hips seared and he was afraid he was burning her. He looked down at her. She was a firecracker when drunk. She wasn’t sweet, she definitely wasn’t stupid, she was more fierce, slightly sloppy, but a spitfire nonetheless.
“Dance with me,” he rasped.
“No, ew!” She said but her body began to sway as his followed.
“Have to keep you occupied until Nate comes back to claim you. Unless you’d rather sit.”
She shook her head violently. “No. I don’t want to sit. I want to dance. Just not with you.”
“You don’t have a choice, Blair.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Very.”
“How much?”
“Five shots of tequila, three whiskey tumblers, a gin and tonic and whatever you just gave me.”
“Chuck Bass…” she began and paused. Blair’s hands found his collar, unaccompanied by a tie tonight and slightly open. She held his shirt tightly and her forehead rested against his chest, just under his chin as they began to dance. “Dance with me. Really dance,” she commanded.
“But I’m the one who-“ Chuck began to protest when she began to move against him deliberately and provocatively.
Movements that only about two inches of free space from the next sweaty person would allow. Chuck spun her around so that her back was against him and he pressed his pelvis against the tight material stretched across her backside. One strong arm wrapped around her stomach and held her against him as their respective bottom halves ground against the other’s in time to the thumping of the bass in their chests. Her eyes were closed and her arm found its way to his hair and her other lay atop his own, strewn across her stomach.
His lips were dangerously close to her neck. Her slightly perspiring, but still enticingly aromatic neck, bare in front of him. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck but neglected to caress, kiss, nibble, graze. He just pressed.
“Chuck,” she said softly, gulping in order to find her voice.
“Hmm?” he asked, disinterested in her speaking at the moment.
“Take me to the bathroom?” she asked meekly.
“Women’s or men’s?” he asked seductively, purposefully misinterpreting her request.
“Women’s.”
“You’re right. Cleaner. More your style,” he whispered.
“I think I might die,” she said.
Chuck stopped his movements against her. “Come on,” he said and held her in front of him, hands still on hips as he guided her wobbly and unbalanced frame to the bathroom. “I’m not holding your hair back.”
“Good,” she responded spitefully, lacking the coherency to come up with a biting retort.
“Watch your step, Waldorf,” Chuck growled when Blair caught the top of a step with the toe of her shoe and failed to properly plant the heel. She fell backwards against him and he propelled her upright.
“Don’t be bossy.” Blair was becoming belligerent and tried to pull away from him.
“Blair, you can’t even stand.”
“Can too.” And when she wriggled again he let go of her and she slammed into the door of the ladies’ restroom with a dull thud and an unintelligible expletive.
“Want to argue with me some more?” Chuck asked smugly as he held onto her once again and led her through the open door. She pouted and resigned. “That’s what I thought.”
“Chuck?” Nate’s voice called out unsteadily from an open stall. “Are you bringing a girl in here because I don’t really think that’s such a good-“
“It’s Blair,” Chuck told him distractedly.
“What?” Nate turned around to witness his best friend steadily holding up his girlfriend and leading her to the stall next to his.
Chuck peeked past Nate. “I see our girls did well tonight,” he quipped at the sight of Serena sprawled out in front of the toilet with her head dipped over into the bowl. Nate was dutifully holding her hair back.
“I found her making out with an investment banker. She was very proud of his profession.”
“Figures. Didn’t she do that last week at PJ Clarkes?” Blair mumbled from her assigned cubicle.
“Don’t you have some vomiting to do?” Chuck asked her as he leaned against the dividing material of the stalls and languidly pulled out a cigarette from his jacket pocket.
“Hey man, I can’t take care of both of them. Can you help me out? Please,” Nate pleaded with Chuck and directed his eyes over to the direction of Blair.
Chuck rolled his eyes but relented. He peered down at her figure. Her simple and very little Gucci dress was hugging her upper thighs and one of her straps had fallen off of her shoulder. Her hair splayed all around her and a fallen curl stuck to her cheek from the slight sheen of her earlier exertions. Chuck settled down behind her, propping her upright by placing his knees on either side of her thighs. His hand delicately swept her hair back and his fingers involuntarily grazed the nape of her neck.
“I thought you weren’t going to hold my hair back,” she stated quietly.
“Promised Nate,” he whispered back.
“Oh.” She reached her hand behind her and placed it atop of Chuck’s. It rested there for a moment before she yanked her tresses away from his feather light grip and simultaneously wretched into the toilet.
“It’s not like I don’t know how to do it,” she said as she stifled a sob.
“What the hell does that mean?” Chuck asked but she wretched again. He rolled his eyes and grimaced. “Nate!” he called.
“Yeah?” replied the voice on the other side.
“We’re going out alone next weekend,” Chuck barked.
Nate laughed. “I owe you one.”
“Don’t worry about it.”