Will Not Remember, Cannot Forget [Part XXXVI] Georgina/Chuck/Blair
Title: Will Not Remember, Cannot Forget
Author: cynicalshadows (a.k.a. Alicia)
Pairings/Characters: Chuck/Georgina, Chuck/Blair
Rating: R, also M for Mature, and D for DARK - Don't say I didn't warn you!
Chapter: 36?
Word Count: 3905
Spoilers: Season 1
Summary: We all have demons we can't escape, and even Chuck Bass had been innocent...once.
Banner credit to
spikeshunny. Thank you Kris!
You drain me dry and make me wonder why I’m even here
The double vision I was seeing is finally clear
You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone
Not fit to fucking tread the ground that I am walking on
-Maroon 5-
Oh God.
It’s like a scene from a nightmare, one he’s had many times. And in some ways it is so much worse than any bad dream he’s ever had because at least in dreams, when things get too horrific, one has a tendency to wake up, and there is no waking up from this no matter how awful it gets.
If he didn’t know better, he’d say the evil bitch had planned it. But no. Her soft gasp when he opened the door was too genuine even for an actress of her caliber. If for only a moment, she had been just as surprised as he. But of course, being the sadistic whore she is, she recovers first.
“Blair!” Georgina squeals, brushing past him with wicked glee to throw her arms around the new arrival. “It’s been too long! How are you?”
Stiffening in the embrace, Blair’s chocolate gaze finds his over Georgina’s scrawny shoulder, her eyes narrowing in contempt while Georgina giggles her greeting, an abrasively mocking sound in his ears.
“I’m fine,” Blair gushes after a fractional pause, disentangling herself from the hug with false enthusiasm etched across her delicate features. “Whatever are you doing here? I didn’t realize you were back in the city.”
Chuck recognizes that look, that tone. They’re the same ones she used when Serena had first returned, back when they were enemies instead of friends, when the blonde had crashed her soiree and news of the arrival had driven Blair’s then boyfriend from her bed.
Blair is beyond pissed, at him most likely, and Georgina is smirking that Cheshire cat smirk, the one that curdles his stomach and makes his blood run cold because she’s pleased. Even worse, she’s happy, and that can only mean that things are going to go downhill very fast. She gets off on inflicting pain, the kind that cuts deepest but never breaks the skin. She deals in metaphorical wounds and emotional scars.
And really there is little he can do to stop whatever it is she is planning because Blair is here, and that gives the hell spawn a significant edge. She’s in control of the situation now, because he doesn’t want Blair to become a pawn in their game of chess and will do whatever his nemesis wants in order to ensure that doesn’t occur, and she fucking knows it, and that cruel grin of hers is so Goddamned gloating and brimming with malevolent intent that he would genuinely love nothing more than to see her get her teeth kicked in. If only Queen B would rear her spiteful head and do the honors, his life would be complete.
But no. Blair may be a formidable bitch, but she is no match for the likes of Georgina Sparks. Not right now. Not when she has no clue what the psychotic whore is actually capable of. She’d make the mistake of assuming Georgina operated under the same code of ethics most of the Upper East Side did, and that error in judgment would cost her dearly.
So really the best thing he can possibly do at the moment is not draw attention to himself or provoke Georgina until Blair leaves.
Praying, however, might also be wise.
Cause try as he might to conceal it, he loves her, and the slut will surely sense it if she hasn’t already, and that attachment makes Blair his biggest weakness, his own personal Kryptonite, because she can be used against him.
As if reading his thoughts, Georgina’s smile deepens. “Oh, I haven’t been in town long,” she says coyly. “And well, Chucky here has been keeping me all to himself.”
“Has he now?” Blair deadpans, giving him an icy glare.
“Oh yes!” Georgina beams as though oblivious to the effect her comments are having when in actuality she is without doubt more than fully aware.
Fucking bitch.
Throwing him a smoldering glance, her voice laden with innuendo, she continues, “We’ve been catching up, having fun, reliving old times.”
It’s ironic that this statement may just be the most honest thing Georgina has ever uttered in his presence. Of course, she doesn’t really need to lie at the moment. Blair will misinterpret the truth all on her own without much embellishment on Georgina’s part.
And from the way her lips thin ever so slightly, she already has.
But that minor reaction isn’t enough for Georgina. So to really drive the implication of her words home, she steps forward and snuggles into him in a flirtatious manner that makes him want to vomit as her sickeningly sweet vanilla perfume envelops him. He starts to recoil, but she tightens her grip on him, digging her fingernails into his skin, and bats her lashes at him playfully, the veiled threat in those glacial eyes very clear. If he moves away, she will make certain he regrets it.
Don’t panic, Bass. Don’t panic. That’s what she secretly wants. So just breathe. Ignore the palm grazing over your ass. It’ll all be over soon.
“That’s… great,” Blair mumbles absently, her expression brittle for a brief second as she watches Georgina cling to him with an air of possession. Then she flashes a dazzling smile as if she couldn’t care less that he is being pawed by the girl she’s hated since sixth grade. “But I really should be going,” she announces suddenly. “I was just looking for Serena, and obviously she’s not here and well…” Her voice trails off as Georgina starts toying with the buttons on his shirt. “It was nice seeing you, G,” Blair blurts out, not even bothering to try to sound sincere. “Maybe we can catch up some other time.” And without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel and hurries away at a pace just shy of a sprint, but not before he sees the tears brimming along her lashes.
Oh shit! She’s crying! Damn it all to hell!
“Get off me whore,” Chuck hisses as he jerks away from Georgina’s foul touch. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t be here when I get back,” he adds before dashing after Blair, hoping he isn’t too late to catch up with her. And for perhaps the first time today, luck is on his side. “Blair, wait,” he calls out just as she steps into the elevator. “Wait, please!”
She frantically begins pushing the button for the doors to close, but he snakes an arm through the opening before they can, preventing them from shutting so he is able to slip inside. “Blair, I’m sorry,” he begins, at a loss for something more to say. God only knows what she’s thinking she walked in on.
In response, Blair stares resolutely at the wall, like he’s not even there, her composed mask once more firmly in place, a deadly calm radiating from her rigidly held frame.
Trying again, Chuck begs, “Blair, please talk to me.”
For several long tense moments, she pretends he hadn’t spoken, acts like he doesn’t even exist. Then she lifts her chin in a subtly defiant gesture. “I have nothing to say to you, Bass,” she remarks coldly, still refusing to look at him. “Nor will I ever.”
“Fine,” he sighs in exasperation. “Just listen then, okay?” When she doesn’t acknowledge him again but starts humming some annoying little ditty under her breath that sounds suspiciously like Britney Spears, he drags a key ring from his trouser pocket. If she won’t listen willingly, he’ll give her no other choice.
Being the son of the hotel’s owner has its perks, and having a copy of the key to the elevator’s emergency break is one of them. The thing had come in handy countless times before on those occasions when it just wasn’t convenient to take a drunken bimbo back to his suite to bang when the elevator was so much closer, and now it is going to prove its worth once more.
After inserting one of the small, silver keys into the lock, Chuck rotates it, halting the elevator between the 50th and 51st floors.
That immediately earns him a murderous glare. “How dare you!” Blair shouts. “You can’t trap me in - ”
“Save it, Waldorf,” he snaps, cutting off her tirade. “My hotel. My elevator. Now just shut up and listen for one goddamned minute, please.” He pauses, letting his frustration dissipate. He isn’t mad at her. Not really. He’s just defensive still from being around the malicious bitch. “Up at my suite,” he continues in a more gentle tone, “It wasn’t what it looked like. Nothing happened with me and Georgina.”
“Oh?” she spits in derision. “So that isn’t her lipstick smeared all over your face?”
In dread, he wipes at his mouth and sure enough, the back of his hand comes away with a telltale crimson smudge.
Piss.
“I can explain - ”
“I don’t want you to explain,” she sneers. “I don’t want to talk to you ever again. You’re heinous and I hate you and I never should have come here in the first place!”
“Why did you then?” he asks.
She blinks in confusion. “What?”
“If I’m so heinous and you hate me,” he grinds out angrily, “Why the hell were you about to knock on my door?”
“I… I told you,” she sputters. “I came here for my best friend.”
Cocking a sardonic brow, he drawls, “Is that the only reason?”
“Yes!” she snarls with vehemence. “I was looking for Serena.”
“Then why don’t your eyes match your mouth?” he observes swiftly.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s your tell, Waldorf,” he leers. “Whenever you lie, your eyes and your mouth don’t match.” He drops his gaze deliberately to her slightly parted ruby lips. “Like they don’t right now.”
Electricity crackles in the small space between them and she gasps, a sharp intake of air that is all the confirmation he needs that Blair had ulterior motives in coming to see him. Finding Serena had just been an excuse.
“You’re imagining things!” she bristles at last, before rotating her body away from him and the growing intensity in his stare.
“Am I?” he counters, his very words a provocative challenge.
“Yes!” Blair asserts.
“Then why won’t you look at me all of a sudden?” he retorts smugly.
“Why?” she repeats bitterly. Then she whirls on him, unexpected rage contorting her features. “Because you disgust me!” she exclaims, stabbing him in the chest with an accusatory finger. “You talk about butterflies and figuring things out and three words, eight letters and then you turn around screw that… that tramp!”
“I didn’t!” Chuck insists, attempting to prevent her from jabbing his sternum once again. He can tell he’s going to have quite a bruise there already. “I swear!”
“I just saw you together!” Blair shrieks.
Succeeding in capturing her wrists, he cries over her struggles, “You don’t know what you saw Waldorf.”
Resorting to kicking now that her hands are pinned, Blair hisses, “She was in your room, rubbing against you like a cat in heat, with her lipstick all over your face, and you expect me to believe I misconstrued what was going on?”
“You know what?” Chuck snarls, his grip on her loosening enough for her to get away after she manages to stomp on his foot with the heel of her Louboutin pumps. “Believe whatever you like. You will anyway. I’m Chuck Bass after all. Why should I be allowed to explain anything? I’m not your darling Nate who can do no wrong!”
With a furious movement, he twists the key in the lock, restarting the elevator’s descent as both of them stand there on opposite sides of it in furious silence, neither daring to look at the other.
“For what it’s worth,” he scowls long moments later, after the elevator stops on three floors and the people waiting to get on decide they’ll catch the next one since the tension radiating out of this one is beyond palpable, “I did not sleep with Georgina again. Nor would I ever. I don’t do second rounds with any girl, and especially not with her.”
Blair’s reply is so soft, he almost doesn’t hear it. “What about me?”
“Huh?”
Hesitantly, she peers across the elevator at him. “You just said you don’t do any girl twice,” she mutters. “But from what I recall, that isn’t entirely true.”
“You’re not any girl, Waldorf,” he sighs, equal parts exasperation and hope. “You never have been.”
“Oh?” she inquires, perhaps a little hopeful herself. “So what am I then, Chuck?”
“You’re…”
The One.
The response springs to his mind immediately, but he cannot say that to her. That particular statement is tantamount to saying ‘I love you,’ and he isn’t ready to make either admission. Not when their relationship is still so tenuous. Not when the possibility that she’ll snort ‘Well that’s too bad’ remains. He may not have much pride where she is concerned anymore, but he has some, and it is enough.
“You’re a woman, Waldorf,” he answers instead, praying his brusqueness will end her line of questioning. Still, he cannot quite resist amending in a gentler tone, “An amazing woman.”
“But you’ve been with women before,” she states, undeterred. “And I’d hazard a guess that some of them were also amazing, correct?”
He shifts uncomfortably, glancing away. “I suppose.”
“And yet you’re telling me that you haven’t slept with any of them more than once?” Her skepticism is evident.
“I haven’t,” he growls, scared that this is going to erupt into another argument and feeling powerless to stop it.
But inexplicably, Blair closes the distance between them without a scathing remark or a biting comment. “Besides me?” she whispers from mere inches away, the hem of her skirt brushing his pants.
“Besides you,” he confirms with a fractional nod, his hand reaching out to cradle her cheek of its own volition.
“Why is that, Chuck?” she murmurs, leaning into his palm, a hint of emotion coloring her voice that he finds both thrilling and terrifying. “Why me?”
“You know why,” he breathes, thumb stroking the softness of her cheek, desire and longing blazing to life from even this minimal contact.
She tilts her chin up, a desperate yearning in the chocolate depths of her eyes. “Well maybe I need a reminder.”
He swallows, afraid this is some kind of trick. “Is that so?”
She moistens her lips. “Yes.”
He steps forward, encircling her with his arms. “Why?”
“Because…” she says, and then before his mouth can settle over hers, she continues. “Because I saw Nate today.”
He reels back as if stung. “Excuse me?”
“He was with Cabbage Patch’s friend, Vanessa. You know, that wannabe Michael Moore?” Blair explains. “They… they left the SATs together.”
So this is about Nathaniel. He should have known.
“Oh?” he sneers with venom. “So you felt rejected by Nate again and decided to come here so I could make you feel better?”
“It… It isn’t like that,” she maintains, shocked by his abrupt harshness.
“Really?” he snorts in disbelief. “Because that’s exactly what it sounds like.”
“Would you shut up for a moment?” she wails.
“Why should I Waldorf?” Chuck roars. “I’m sick of this shit! I’m tired of you treating me like the conciliation prize every time Nate wants someone other than you!”
“You know what? Fuck off, Bass!” she cries. “I was going to say that I recognized the way he looked at her because it was the same way he used to look at me and I had thought that look was special, but today I realized it wasn’t. It’s just the way he looks at a girl, any girl, when he’s with them, and it isn’t at all like the way you look at me, the way you’ve always looked at me, but never mind!”
“Blair - ”
She slaps his hands away viciously. “No, no! Don’t touch me. I fucking hate you!” she screeches. “Go back to Georgina. She’s perfect for you. You’re made for each other.”
Then the doors of the elevator open and she shoves him back so forcefully that he loses his footing and stumbles against the wall, allowing her a few precious seconds to scramble out into the lobby before he can recover enough to give chase. In her haste to flee, she collides with a passing bellboy, losing her grip on one of the handles of her purse, some of the contents spilling out across the marble floor as a result. But she doesn’t stop to pick them up, or apologize to the staff member, or even let the accident slow her down. She is intent on getting away from him, and before Chuck can stop her, she is dashing out onto the sidewalk, flinging herself into a taxi, and the vehicle is pulling away from the curb.
Goddamn it!
That was his moment. She’d been ready to admit she did care. He knew it, could feel it in his soul, and he’d missed his chance because -
“The young Miss dropped these Sir.”
“What?” Chuck snaps at the individual who had intruded on his thoughts.
“The girl that was in the elevator with you, Sir,” the bellboy says apologetically, withering under his glare. “These… These fell out of her purse.”
“Thank you,” Chuck grinds out, taking the proffered items and glancing at them idly.
A compact, a tube of lipgloss, a pen, and a… DVD.
With trepidation, he flips over the case to see what movie it is, and his heart clenches at the familiar cover.
Gone With the Wind.
How ironic.
Did he need any more proof than that that this was the day she’d planned to acknowledge how she felt? He’d once confessed the film was one of his favorites, and today it had been in her purse when she’d come to see him. It couldn’t have been coincidental. She’d remembered and had wanted to watch it with him, only to find him with Georgina and leap to the wrong conclusions, and then he had leapt to the wrong conclusions when she’d brought up Nathaniel, and now everything is just terribly, horribly fucked and he might as well consign himself to being miserable for the rest of his life because it will take a miracle for Blair Waldorf to ever deign to speak to him again. He has effectively lost her before he ever really had her.
God fucking damn it!
He storms back to his suite, wrenching the door open, and heading straight to the wet bar, intent on drinking himself into oblivion, but stops short when he spies Georgina reclining on his couch.
“Why the hell are you still here?” he hisses in barely restrained fury.
Standing and sauntering towards him with an exaggerated sway of hips, the evil bitch smiles like the predator she is. “Why so upset Chucky? Have a little spat with your girlfriend?” she coos.
“She isn’t my girlfriend.”
“No, but you want her to be,” Georgina giggles. “And that just makes her rejection of you that much worse, doesn’t it? It’s precious, really.”
“I’m glad you find it amusing, now get out.”
“I was hoping you’d want to work out some of that pent up aggression you have first,” she suggests huskily. “It’s not healthy to keep it all inside, and I know a great way to relieve some of it.”
“Georgina,” Chuck leers in a seductive whisper, taking her hands in his own and drawing her close, “I’d rather cut it off than put it in you.” Then he shoves her back so forcefully she stumbles in her stilettos. “And unless I’m mistaken,” he continues, “We had a deal. I kiss you, you go the fuck away. So I strongly suggest you stop goading me and follow through with that, or I may decide to reconsider the terms of our arrangement.”
“It’s not like you can take the kiss back, Chucky,” she taunts. “Although you’re certainly welcome to try.”
“As much as I’m sure that prospect would excite you, I think I’ll have to decline,” he drawls in disgust. “But that wasn’t exactly the arrangement I was referring to.”
Georgina snorts condescendingly, clearing thinking she is in control like she normally is, like she had been even minutes prior, before Blair had fled from that elevator. “Well I don’t have the faintest idea what deal you’re alluding to,” she yawns in disinterest. “So I’m afraid you have me at a slight disadvantage.”
“Oh, I’m quite aware that I have you at a disadvantage,” he nods, letting his hatred of her override his fear. “And there is nothing slight about it, and let me just say how much fun this occasion is turning out to be because of that.”
Her eyes narrow dangerously. “Cut the crap and get to the point Chucky. If there is one.”
“The point, Georgina dear,” he deadpans with extreme effort, “Is that I have you in an extremely precarious position.”
She blinks. “I’m not following.”
“We reached an armistice once, remember?”
“Yes, and?”
“And as I recall,” he continues, “The conditions of that ceasefire were that I wouldn’t release the pictures I had of you so long as you didn’t tell people I raped you. It was mutually beneficial, as we both had something we didn’t want to lose.” Unable to suppress his delight any longer, he breaks into a triumphant smirk. “But I’m afraid that isn’t quite true anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t have anything on me, Georgina. Not anymore,” he explains. “So forgive me if I find your threat to tell people I’m a rapist a little hollow at the moment.” Grinning, he gestures with a patronizing flourish. “But go ahead if you’d like. Announce it to the world. Be my guest. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You’ll lose your - ”
He cuts her off with a cynical laugh. “I’ll lose what? My family? My father already can’t stand me. You said so yourself. I’ll lose my friends? Oh, wait… Already did, as you so helpfully pointed out. Blair will hate me? Newsflash. She already does. You made sure of that just now. So what else is there?”
His smile fades, his face becoming a mask of neutrality, almost icy in its detachment, the kind of expression people think of when they envision serial killers. “I’ve already lost everything, Georgina,” he says, an almost hysterical note in his voice despite his emotionless visage. “There’s nothing left for your lies to take away. So I recommend you let yourself out, and fly back to Switzerland, and never ever darken my door again so I’m not tempted to show those photographs of mine to the world, because while I don’t usually take sadistic pleasure in destroying the lives of others, with you I’m fairly certain I could be persuaded into making an exception.”
She gapes at him for a second, as if assessing his determination, checking for a weakness to exploit, and finding none, she walks to the exit without another word.
“Georgina,” he calls after her once he hears the door of his suite open. “Always a pleasure.”
The only response is the slamming of the door.
Author: cynicalshadows (a.k.a. Alicia)
Pairings/Characters: Chuck/Georgina, Chuck/Blair
Rating: R, also M for Mature, and D for DARK - Don't say I didn't warn you!
Chapter: 36?
Word Count: 3905
Spoilers: Season 1
Summary: We all have demons we can't escape, and even Chuck Bass had been innocent...once.
Banner credit to
spikeshunny. Thank you Kris!
You drain me dry and make me wonder why I’m even here
The double vision I was seeing is finally clear
You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone
Not fit to fucking tread the ground that I am walking on
-Maroon 5-
Oh God.
It’s like a scene from a nightmare, one he’s had many times. And in some ways it is so much worse than any bad dream he’s ever had because at least in dreams, when things get too horrific, one has a tendency to wake up, and there is no waking up from this no matter how awful it gets.
If he didn’t know better, he’d say the evil bitch had planned it. But no. Her soft gasp when he opened the door was too genuine even for an actress of her caliber. If for only a moment, she had been just as surprised as he. But of course, being the sadistic whore she is, she recovers first.
“Blair!” Georgina squeals, brushing past him with wicked glee to throw her arms around the new arrival. “It’s been too long! How are you?”
Stiffening in the embrace, Blair’s chocolate gaze finds his over Georgina’s scrawny shoulder, her eyes narrowing in contempt while Georgina giggles her greeting, an abrasively mocking sound in his ears.
“I’m fine,” Blair gushes after a fractional pause, disentangling herself from the hug with false enthusiasm etched across her delicate features. “Whatever are you doing here? I didn’t realize you were back in the city.”
Chuck recognizes that look, that tone. They’re the same ones she used when Serena had first returned, back when they were enemies instead of friends, when the blonde had crashed her soiree and news of the arrival had driven Blair’s then boyfriend from her bed.
Blair is beyond pissed, at him most likely, and Georgina is smirking that Cheshire cat smirk, the one that curdles his stomach and makes his blood run cold because she’s pleased. Even worse, she’s happy, and that can only mean that things are going to go downhill very fast. She gets off on inflicting pain, the kind that cuts deepest but never breaks the skin. She deals in metaphorical wounds and emotional scars.
And really there is little he can do to stop whatever it is she is planning because Blair is here, and that gives the hell spawn a significant edge. She’s in control of the situation now, because he doesn’t want Blair to become a pawn in their game of chess and will do whatever his nemesis wants in order to ensure that doesn’t occur, and she fucking knows it, and that cruel grin of hers is so Goddamned gloating and brimming with malevolent intent that he would genuinely love nothing more than to see her get her teeth kicked in. If only Queen B would rear her spiteful head and do the honors, his life would be complete.
But no. Blair may be a formidable bitch, but she is no match for the likes of Georgina Sparks. Not right now. Not when she has no clue what the psychotic whore is actually capable of. She’d make the mistake of assuming Georgina operated under the same code of ethics most of the Upper East Side did, and that error in judgment would cost her dearly.
So really the best thing he can possibly do at the moment is not draw attention to himself or provoke Georgina until Blair leaves.
Praying, however, might also be wise.
Cause try as he might to conceal it, he loves her, and the slut will surely sense it if she hasn’t already, and that attachment makes Blair his biggest weakness, his own personal Kryptonite, because she can be used against him.
As if reading his thoughts, Georgina’s smile deepens. “Oh, I haven’t been in town long,” she says coyly. “And well, Chucky here has been keeping me all to himself.”
“Has he now?” Blair deadpans, giving him an icy glare.
“Oh yes!” Georgina beams as though oblivious to the effect her comments are having when in actuality she is without doubt more than fully aware.
Fucking bitch.
Throwing him a smoldering glance, her voice laden with innuendo, she continues, “We’ve been catching up, having fun, reliving old times.”
It’s ironic that this statement may just be the most honest thing Georgina has ever uttered in his presence. Of course, she doesn’t really need to lie at the moment. Blair will misinterpret the truth all on her own without much embellishment on Georgina’s part.
And from the way her lips thin ever so slightly, she already has.
But that minor reaction isn’t enough for Georgina. So to really drive the implication of her words home, she steps forward and snuggles into him in a flirtatious manner that makes him want to vomit as her sickeningly sweet vanilla perfume envelops him. He starts to recoil, but she tightens her grip on him, digging her fingernails into his skin, and bats her lashes at him playfully, the veiled threat in those glacial eyes very clear. If he moves away, she will make certain he regrets it.
Don’t panic, Bass. Don’t panic. That’s what she secretly wants. So just breathe. Ignore the palm grazing over your ass. It’ll all be over soon.
“That’s… great,” Blair mumbles absently, her expression brittle for a brief second as she watches Georgina cling to him with an air of possession. Then she flashes a dazzling smile as if she couldn’t care less that he is being pawed by the girl she’s hated since sixth grade. “But I really should be going,” she announces suddenly. “I was just looking for Serena, and obviously she’s not here and well…” Her voice trails off as Georgina starts toying with the buttons on his shirt. “It was nice seeing you, G,” Blair blurts out, not even bothering to try to sound sincere. “Maybe we can catch up some other time.” And without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel and hurries away at a pace just shy of a sprint, but not before he sees the tears brimming along her lashes.
Oh shit! She’s crying! Damn it all to hell!
“Get off me whore,” Chuck hisses as he jerks away from Georgina’s foul touch. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t be here when I get back,” he adds before dashing after Blair, hoping he isn’t too late to catch up with her. And for perhaps the first time today, luck is on his side. “Blair, wait,” he calls out just as she steps into the elevator. “Wait, please!”
She frantically begins pushing the button for the doors to close, but he snakes an arm through the opening before they can, preventing them from shutting so he is able to slip inside. “Blair, I’m sorry,” he begins, at a loss for something more to say. God only knows what she’s thinking she walked in on.
In response, Blair stares resolutely at the wall, like he’s not even there, her composed mask once more firmly in place, a deadly calm radiating from her rigidly held frame.
Trying again, Chuck begs, “Blair, please talk to me.”
For several long tense moments, she pretends he hadn’t spoken, acts like he doesn’t even exist. Then she lifts her chin in a subtly defiant gesture. “I have nothing to say to you, Bass,” she remarks coldly, still refusing to look at him. “Nor will I ever.”
“Fine,” he sighs in exasperation. “Just listen then, okay?” When she doesn’t acknowledge him again but starts humming some annoying little ditty under her breath that sounds suspiciously like Britney Spears, he drags a key ring from his trouser pocket. If she won’t listen willingly, he’ll give her no other choice.
Being the son of the hotel’s owner has its perks, and having a copy of the key to the elevator’s emergency break is one of them. The thing had come in handy countless times before on those occasions when it just wasn’t convenient to take a drunken bimbo back to his suite to bang when the elevator was so much closer, and now it is going to prove its worth once more.
After inserting one of the small, silver keys into the lock, Chuck rotates it, halting the elevator between the 50th and 51st floors.
That immediately earns him a murderous glare. “How dare you!” Blair shouts. “You can’t trap me in - ”
“Save it, Waldorf,” he snaps, cutting off her tirade. “My hotel. My elevator. Now just shut up and listen for one goddamned minute, please.” He pauses, letting his frustration dissipate. He isn’t mad at her. Not really. He’s just defensive still from being around the malicious bitch. “Up at my suite,” he continues in a more gentle tone, “It wasn’t what it looked like. Nothing happened with me and Georgina.”
“Oh?” she spits in derision. “So that isn’t her lipstick smeared all over your face?”
In dread, he wipes at his mouth and sure enough, the back of his hand comes away with a telltale crimson smudge.
Piss.
“I can explain - ”
“I don’t want you to explain,” she sneers. “I don’t want to talk to you ever again. You’re heinous and I hate you and I never should have come here in the first place!”
“Why did you then?” he asks.
She blinks in confusion. “What?”
“If I’m so heinous and you hate me,” he grinds out angrily, “Why the hell were you about to knock on my door?”
“I… I told you,” she sputters. “I came here for my best friend.”
Cocking a sardonic brow, he drawls, “Is that the only reason?”
“Yes!” she snarls with vehemence. “I was looking for Serena.”
“Then why don’t your eyes match your mouth?” he observes swiftly.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s your tell, Waldorf,” he leers. “Whenever you lie, your eyes and your mouth don’t match.” He drops his gaze deliberately to her slightly parted ruby lips. “Like they don’t right now.”
Electricity crackles in the small space between them and she gasps, a sharp intake of air that is all the confirmation he needs that Blair had ulterior motives in coming to see him. Finding Serena had just been an excuse.
“You’re imagining things!” she bristles at last, before rotating her body away from him and the growing intensity in his stare.
“Am I?” he counters, his very words a provocative challenge.
“Yes!” Blair asserts.
“Then why won’t you look at me all of a sudden?” he retorts smugly.
“Why?” she repeats bitterly. Then she whirls on him, unexpected rage contorting her features. “Because you disgust me!” she exclaims, stabbing him in the chest with an accusatory finger. “You talk about butterflies and figuring things out and three words, eight letters and then you turn around screw that… that tramp!”
“I didn’t!” Chuck insists, attempting to prevent her from jabbing his sternum once again. He can tell he’s going to have quite a bruise there already. “I swear!”
“I just saw you together!” Blair shrieks.
Succeeding in capturing her wrists, he cries over her struggles, “You don’t know what you saw Waldorf.”
Resorting to kicking now that her hands are pinned, Blair hisses, “She was in your room, rubbing against you like a cat in heat, with her lipstick all over your face, and you expect me to believe I misconstrued what was going on?”
“You know what?” Chuck snarls, his grip on her loosening enough for her to get away after she manages to stomp on his foot with the heel of her Louboutin pumps. “Believe whatever you like. You will anyway. I’m Chuck Bass after all. Why should I be allowed to explain anything? I’m not your darling Nate who can do no wrong!”
With a furious movement, he twists the key in the lock, restarting the elevator’s descent as both of them stand there on opposite sides of it in furious silence, neither daring to look at the other.
“For what it’s worth,” he scowls long moments later, after the elevator stops on three floors and the people waiting to get on decide they’ll catch the next one since the tension radiating out of this one is beyond palpable, “I did not sleep with Georgina again. Nor would I ever. I don’t do second rounds with any girl, and especially not with her.”
Blair’s reply is so soft, he almost doesn’t hear it. “What about me?”
“Huh?”
Hesitantly, she peers across the elevator at him. “You just said you don’t do any girl twice,” she mutters. “But from what I recall, that isn’t entirely true.”
“You’re not any girl, Waldorf,” he sighs, equal parts exasperation and hope. “You never have been.”
“Oh?” she inquires, perhaps a little hopeful herself. “So what am I then, Chuck?”
“You’re…”
The One.
The response springs to his mind immediately, but he cannot say that to her. That particular statement is tantamount to saying ‘I love you,’ and he isn’t ready to make either admission. Not when their relationship is still so tenuous. Not when the possibility that she’ll snort ‘Well that’s too bad’ remains. He may not have much pride where she is concerned anymore, but he has some, and it is enough.
“You’re a woman, Waldorf,” he answers instead, praying his brusqueness will end her line of questioning. Still, he cannot quite resist amending in a gentler tone, “An amazing woman.”
“But you’ve been with women before,” she states, undeterred. “And I’d hazard a guess that some of them were also amazing, correct?”
He shifts uncomfortably, glancing away. “I suppose.”
“And yet you’re telling me that you haven’t slept with any of them more than once?” Her skepticism is evident.
“I haven’t,” he growls, scared that this is going to erupt into another argument and feeling powerless to stop it.
But inexplicably, Blair closes the distance between them without a scathing remark or a biting comment. “Besides me?” she whispers from mere inches away, the hem of her skirt brushing his pants.
“Besides you,” he confirms with a fractional nod, his hand reaching out to cradle her cheek of its own volition.
“Why is that, Chuck?” she murmurs, leaning into his palm, a hint of emotion coloring her voice that he finds both thrilling and terrifying. “Why me?”
“You know why,” he breathes, thumb stroking the softness of her cheek, desire and longing blazing to life from even this minimal contact.
She tilts her chin up, a desperate yearning in the chocolate depths of her eyes. “Well maybe I need a reminder.”
He swallows, afraid this is some kind of trick. “Is that so?”
She moistens her lips. “Yes.”
He steps forward, encircling her with his arms. “Why?”
“Because…” she says, and then before his mouth can settle over hers, she continues. “Because I saw Nate today.”
He reels back as if stung. “Excuse me?”
“He was with Cabbage Patch’s friend, Vanessa. You know, that wannabe Michael Moore?” Blair explains. “They… they left the SATs together.”
So this is about Nathaniel. He should have known.
“Oh?” he sneers with venom. “So you felt rejected by Nate again and decided to come here so I could make you feel better?”
“It… It isn’t like that,” she maintains, shocked by his abrupt harshness.
“Really?” he snorts in disbelief. “Because that’s exactly what it sounds like.”
“Would you shut up for a moment?” she wails.
“Why should I Waldorf?” Chuck roars. “I’m sick of this shit! I’m tired of you treating me like the conciliation prize every time Nate wants someone other than you!”
“You know what? Fuck off, Bass!” she cries. “I was going to say that I recognized the way he looked at her because it was the same way he used to look at me and I had thought that look was special, but today I realized it wasn’t. It’s just the way he looks at a girl, any girl, when he’s with them, and it isn’t at all like the way you look at me, the way you’ve always looked at me, but never mind!”
“Blair - ”
She slaps his hands away viciously. “No, no! Don’t touch me. I fucking hate you!” she screeches. “Go back to Georgina. She’s perfect for you. You’re made for each other.”
Then the doors of the elevator open and she shoves him back so forcefully that he loses his footing and stumbles against the wall, allowing her a few precious seconds to scramble out into the lobby before he can recover enough to give chase. In her haste to flee, she collides with a passing bellboy, losing her grip on one of the handles of her purse, some of the contents spilling out across the marble floor as a result. But she doesn’t stop to pick them up, or apologize to the staff member, or even let the accident slow her down. She is intent on getting away from him, and before Chuck can stop her, she is dashing out onto the sidewalk, flinging herself into a taxi, and the vehicle is pulling away from the curb.
Goddamn it!
That was his moment. She’d been ready to admit she did care. He knew it, could feel it in his soul, and he’d missed his chance because -
“The young Miss dropped these Sir.”
“What?” Chuck snaps at the individual who had intruded on his thoughts.
“The girl that was in the elevator with you, Sir,” the bellboy says apologetically, withering under his glare. “These… These fell out of her purse.”
“Thank you,” Chuck grinds out, taking the proffered items and glancing at them idly.
A compact, a tube of lipgloss, a pen, and a… DVD.
With trepidation, he flips over the case to see what movie it is, and his heart clenches at the familiar cover.
Gone With the Wind.
How ironic.
Did he need any more proof than that that this was the day she’d planned to acknowledge how she felt? He’d once confessed the film was one of his favorites, and today it had been in her purse when she’d come to see him. It couldn’t have been coincidental. She’d remembered and had wanted to watch it with him, only to find him with Georgina and leap to the wrong conclusions, and then he had leapt to the wrong conclusions when she’d brought up Nathaniel, and now everything is just terribly, horribly fucked and he might as well consign himself to being miserable for the rest of his life because it will take a miracle for Blair Waldorf to ever deign to speak to him again. He has effectively lost her before he ever really had her.
God fucking damn it!
He storms back to his suite, wrenching the door open, and heading straight to the wet bar, intent on drinking himself into oblivion, but stops short when he spies Georgina reclining on his couch.
“Why the hell are you still here?” he hisses in barely restrained fury.
Standing and sauntering towards him with an exaggerated sway of hips, the evil bitch smiles like the predator she is. “Why so upset Chucky? Have a little spat with your girlfriend?” she coos.
“She isn’t my girlfriend.”
“No, but you want her to be,” Georgina giggles. “And that just makes her rejection of you that much worse, doesn’t it? It’s precious, really.”
“I’m glad you find it amusing, now get out.”
“I was hoping you’d want to work out some of that pent up aggression you have first,” she suggests huskily. “It’s not healthy to keep it all inside, and I know a great way to relieve some of it.”
“Georgina,” Chuck leers in a seductive whisper, taking her hands in his own and drawing her close, “I’d rather cut it off than put it in you.” Then he shoves her back so forcefully she stumbles in her stilettos. “And unless I’m mistaken,” he continues, “We had a deal. I kiss you, you go the fuck away. So I strongly suggest you stop goading me and follow through with that, or I may decide to reconsider the terms of our arrangement.”
“It’s not like you can take the kiss back, Chucky,” she taunts. “Although you’re certainly welcome to try.”
“As much as I’m sure that prospect would excite you, I think I’ll have to decline,” he drawls in disgust. “But that wasn’t exactly the arrangement I was referring to.”
Georgina snorts condescendingly, clearing thinking she is in control like she normally is, like she had been even minutes prior, before Blair had fled from that elevator. “Well I don’t have the faintest idea what deal you’re alluding to,” she yawns in disinterest. “So I’m afraid you have me at a slight disadvantage.”
“Oh, I’m quite aware that I have you at a disadvantage,” he nods, letting his hatred of her override his fear. “And there is nothing slight about it, and let me just say how much fun this occasion is turning out to be because of that.”
Her eyes narrow dangerously. “Cut the crap and get to the point Chucky. If there is one.”
“The point, Georgina dear,” he deadpans with extreme effort, “Is that I have you in an extremely precarious position.”
She blinks. “I’m not following.”
“We reached an armistice once, remember?”
“Yes, and?”
“And as I recall,” he continues, “The conditions of that ceasefire were that I wouldn’t release the pictures I had of you so long as you didn’t tell people I raped you. It was mutually beneficial, as we both had something we didn’t want to lose.” Unable to suppress his delight any longer, he breaks into a triumphant smirk. “But I’m afraid that isn’t quite true anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t have anything on me, Georgina. Not anymore,” he explains. “So forgive me if I find your threat to tell people I’m a rapist a little hollow at the moment.” Grinning, he gestures with a patronizing flourish. “But go ahead if you’d like. Announce it to the world. Be my guest. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You’ll lose your - ”
He cuts her off with a cynical laugh. “I’ll lose what? My family? My father already can’t stand me. You said so yourself. I’ll lose my friends? Oh, wait… Already did, as you so helpfully pointed out. Blair will hate me? Newsflash. She already does. You made sure of that just now. So what else is there?”
His smile fades, his face becoming a mask of neutrality, almost icy in its detachment, the kind of expression people think of when they envision serial killers. “I’ve already lost everything, Georgina,” he says, an almost hysterical note in his voice despite his emotionless visage. “There’s nothing left for your lies to take away. So I recommend you let yourself out, and fly back to Switzerland, and never ever darken my door again so I’m not tempted to show those photographs of mine to the world, because while I don’t usually take sadistic pleasure in destroying the lives of others, with you I’m fairly certain I could be persuaded into making an exception.”
She gapes at him for a second, as if assessing his determination, checking for a weakness to exploit, and finding none, she walks to the exit without another word.
“Georgina,” he calls after her once he hears the door of his suite open. “Always a pleasure.”
The only response is the slamming of the door.