Final gift for checkmatey

[andthatisthat]

Title: Beneath The Sheets Of Paper Lies My Truth
Author: andthatisthat
Characters/pairings: Chuck/Nate, Chuck/Dan, a bit of Chuck/Blair in the background and possibly some Dan/Nate, if you choose to read it that way...
Rating: PG-13. It's pretty tame, really. There's a bit of bad language in there, but that's about it.
Spoilers: Well, it's a reimagining of what might have happened after 'The Treasure of Serena Madre', so spoilers up to 3x11, I guess.
Summary: All Nate wants is for Chuck and Dan to get along. If only they had something in common.
Author's notes: Just scraping in past the deadline (but I'm hoping that I'm just making it in US-time, right?) This piece is unbeta-ed, so I apologise for any mistakes. It kind of meandered away from the story I was originally going to tell which was going to be a lot raunchier, and hey, if you would've preferred that version, maybe I can write that for you too some other time. Other than that, wishing you a belatedly merry Christmas and Happy New Year, and I hope you like it. (Also, my sincerest apologies to Kevin Williamson for a plot device shamelessly stolen from Dawson's Creek.)

Nate woke the next morning aware of only one thing: he was in the right apartment, but the wrong bed. It was to be expected: after all, he had a feeling in his head not entirely unlike a re-enactment of the Battle of Gettysburg - one in which all the participants were wearing steel-soled boots and throwing anvils at steel walls every 30 seconds. Though his memories of the previous night were absent to begin with, the symptoms were familiar enough - every time in the past he’d woken up feeling like this, it had been because of Chuck Bass’s Patented Cure For All Your Problems. The one that involves visiting every bar in a three-mile radius and drinking until you have to check inside your wallet to remind yourself what your own last name is.

As consciousness slowly returned to him, he sensed body contact and heat in the bed with him; peering across he was not entirely surprised to see Chuck lying beside him, still entirely asleep. It wasn’t the first time that excessive alcohol intake had led to the two boys staggering back to Chuck’s suite, stumbling, giggling, chaotically falling into bed together, an intoxicated goodnight peck on the cheek turning into a hungry kiss, leading to clothes being rapidly shed and arms plunging beneath the covers in search of normally forbidden zones. Chuck and Nate’s longstanding friendship had been punctuated with incidents like this over the years, to the extent that neither of them felt weird about it any more. Even Blair had managed to turn a blind eye to it over the course of her relationships with both of them; initially it had been a sore point, as was probably to be expected for any girl whose father had left her mother for another man, but when she realised these drunken hookups posed absolutely no threat to her, she managed to get over it, in the way Blair always came to terms with anything she couldn’t conquer - by making it work for her. Chuck had once told Nate on a similarly drunken outing that it kind of turned Blair on these days when he rolled through the door in the small hours smelling like a mixture of cigarettes, expensive rum and Nate’s aftershave.

Not that Blair was around to take advantage of that on this occasion, Nate remembered. She was off in Paris with Eleanor and Cyrus, which meant that he didn’t have to feel guilty right now about keeping Chuck away from her. It helped to some extent; to say that he was brokenhearted after Serena got into the limo with Tripp last night would be an exaggeration, but the rejection had still left him with an ache somewhere underneath his ribcage, one that was quelled somewhat by being able to rest his head against Chuck’s cheek, draping his arm across his friend’s chest and absently curling Chuck’s chest hair around his fingers.

The sound of Chuck’s gentle snoring was suddenly punctuated by the shrill ringing of Nate’s cellphone. Nate stretched his free arm out of the bed and fumbled around near the source of the noise, eventually locating his phone in the pocket of his discarded pants, which were lurking conspicuously by the bedside table. Pulling it up to eye-level, he checked the screen: DAN CALLING. Rolling over onto his side in an effort to avoid waking Chuck up, he took the call.

“Hey, man.” The throaty crack in his voice made it very obvious he’d only just woken up.

“Hey,” Dan’s voice was soft and concerned. “I heard about last night, dude. I just wanted to see how you were.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Nate sighed. “I wouldn’t include last night in any highlights reels of my life or anything, but it’s cool. Chuck took me out to get drunk.”

“That sounds like Chuck.”

“It was what I needed,” Nate shrugged.

“So where are you now?” asked Dan.

Nate looked over his shoulder. “I’m...still in bed.”

“You want to meet for coffee or anything? I mean, I don’t know how much you want to talk about it, but if it helps, I do have a wealth of experience on the whole being-screwed-over-by-Serena thing that I’d be happy to share.”

Nate smiled. “Yeah, that’d be good. Thanks, man.”

“Meet you in a half hour?”

Nate looked back at Chuck again. “Better make it an hour.”

After disconnecting the call, Nate carefully reached out to deposit the phone back where he found it, with the kind of precision he normally saved for his weekends of boatbuilding in Maine - his intention was to create as little disturbance to the room as possible, to allow Chuck to sleep in. Nate wondered how long he could justify continuing to lay there before he really had to get showered and dressed to go and meet Dan and whether the acceptable etiquette of the situation would be to leave a note or not until his mental wanderings were interrupted by Chuck’s low, sexy drawl - which took on an earthier quality first thing in the morning.

“Another gentleman caller, Nathaniel? I thought I was the only one.”

“It was just Dan,” Nate told him. “He wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Chuck pulled himself upright, supporting himself on his elbows. “And what did you say?”

“That I’m okay,” Nate smiled, brushing Chuck’s hair back out of his eyes. “Because I am. For now, anyway.”

“Good,” Chuck replied. “You know I don’t like to think of you upset.” He kissed Nate on the forehead.

“I’m sorry I caused you to miss France with Blair.”

“Don’t be,” Chuck assured him. “Blair understands, and so do I.”

Nate nodded. “Thanks, Chuck. Look, I’m going to hit the shower - I said I’d meet Dan for a coffee. He wants to give me the benefit of his years of experience with Serena.”

Chuck cocked an eyebrow. “You’re going to take relationship advice from Dan Humphrey?”

“Well, not exactly...”

“Hey, I’m not judging you,” Chuck reassured him. “You do what you need to do, Nathaniel. And if that means spending your day with Humphrey, you go. Frolic with him in a library or whatever he does.”

Nate hesitated. “You know, Dan’s a really decent guy.”

“Did I say he wasn’t?”

“No, but you always talk about him like he’s this Schnauser you can’t quite kick away properly. We’re not at school any more, Chuck. You don’t have to ignore him. If you gave him a chance, you might even like him.”

“Nathaniel, you know me. I’ll try anything once, but I draw the line at Dan Humphrey.”

Nate looked directly at him, in a way that only the people who’d gotten close to Chuck ever dared to do. “Just spend a little bit of time with him. For me?”

Chuck sighed. “That’ll do, Nathaniel. Look, I’ll think about it, okay?”

“That’s more than I hoped for,” Nate grinned. He kissed Chuck on the forehead one last time and, grabbing his boxers from the floor and slipping into them, headed out towards the shower. Chuck waited until the door was closed and reached out onto the floor, searching for his phone.

Dan was halfway through shaving when his phone rang. Looking at the screen, he saw that it was Chuck on the line. For a second he debated thrusting his cellphone into the foam-filled water to increase his chances of being able to avoid whatever it was Chuck wanted that was almost certain to cause him pain on some level, but a sense of masochistic curiosity got the better of him and he answered.

“What do you want, Chuck?”

“Humphrey. I’m taking you out tonight. I’ll be there to pick you up in my limo at seven. Try to look respectable.”

He rang off, leaving Dan to wonder what on earth he had just not been given a chance to say “no” to.

Dan stood on the street apprehensively, occasionally looking back to make sure Vanya was still there watching him. He suddenly felt as if he was betraying all of those lessons his parents had taught him when he was young about not getting into cars with strange men, but at least he’d been responsible and told an adult where he was going. As much as he could have done, anyway: he’d simply told Vanya that he was going out with Chuck Bass for the evening, and Vanya had given him a mute look that Dan was pretty sure fell under the category of “pity”.

Right now he would’ve killed for a cigarette and, had he been in Brooklyn, he would’ve lit one up and thought nothing more about it, but he felt too self-conscious to do it here, so instead he slipped his trembling fingers into his pockets and lifted himself onto his toes just to find something to do with his nervous energy.

Eventually Chuck’s limo rolled into view, and Dan didn’t know whether he should feel relieved, or if the horror was only just beginning. He opened the door and peered inside.

“Chuck?”

“Daniel. Good evening.” Chuck was wearing a deep purple suit with a dark blue shirt and a striped tie. Dan suddenly felt underdressed in the black jeans, shirt, skinny tie and vest he’d chosen to wear this evening.

“Is, uh, is this going to take long?” Dan squinted across the limo at Chuck. “Only there’s a paper I should be writing...”

“The sooner you climb inside, Daniel, the sooner we’ll be done.” Chuck informed him. Dan took a deep breath, debated attempting to send a non-verbal SOS to Vanya while there was still time, realised that would be an overreaction considering the lack of immediate danger at this point, and climbed into the car.

They sat in silence to begin with. Despite having grown accustomed to the finer things in life now that he was himself a resident of the Upper East Side, riding in limos still made Dan feel conspicuous and uneasy, a feeling that was multiplied considerably when he was sitting in a limo mere feet away from Chuck Bass, who was staring at him in a way that reminded Dan of serial killers staring at the jury on Law & Order. Dan coughed.

“Your call this morning caught me a little off-guard...” he began. Chuck held up one hand, and Dan fell silent.

“Humphrey, I’ve been doing some thinking,” he drawled. “In the past you and I haven’t moved in the same circles. Even when we attended the same school, we lived very different lives.” Dan opened his mouth to defend himself before realising that no actual attack had been made yet, and so closed it again.

Chuck continued, “But it’s been brought to my attention that we now have a common interest in Nathaniel, and I thought it was about time that we got to know each other a little better. For Nate’s sake.”

Dan nodded, not entirely comfortable with where this might be going. “Which would mean...?”

“I have a proposition for you,” Chuck said to him. “Tonight, I take you out with me, you get to experience a night in the life of Chuck Bass. Tomorrow, you’ll do the same for me, and show me what it’s like to be you. If, once both nights are over, we don’t want to spend another second in each other’s company, then we part ways and we need never speak of this again. On the other hand, if we find the experience...pleasurable, then perhaps we can spend more time together in the future. I think Nate would like that. The three of us, all friends together.”

Dan had had nights out with Chuck Bass before, but had only a dim recollection of excessive alcohol consumption and visiting a police station to back it up. It wasn’t an experience he’d been eager to repeat, but, as Chuck had said, they had Nate in common now. It wouldn’t be such a terrible idea to try and find enough common ground for the three of them to co-exist side by side.

...would it?

As it turned out, being Chuck Bass wasn’t quite as raucous as Dan expected. Sure, they were in bars, but most of these bars were filled with respectable businessmen cutting deals in private booths or entertaining clients at the bar. None of the bar staff were dancing on the counter - hell, some of them were even men. His tongue loosened slightly by alcohol, he felt sufficiently emboldened to speak.

“It’s not what I expected,” he blurted, clutching onto his glass with both hands as though to let go would cause him to go rocketing into the ceiling - that nervous energy still hadn’t quite abated.

“What did you expect?” Chuck replied, in a way that wasn’t entirely a question.

“Well, the last time you and I went out--”

“We ended up in jail and you decided to use my life for your pet writing project,” Chuck cut in. “Or am I remembering it wrong?”

“No, you’re right, and I’m sorry about that,” Dan babbled, wishing he’d thought to order a soft drink at some point prior to this instead of trying to match Chuck drink for drink. “Really, that was low of me, and I wouldn’t do that now. I wouldn’t.”

Chuck smiled at him. “Relax, Humphrey. It was a long time ago.”

“I guess we’re both different people now,” Dan observed. “You’re this big-shot businessman. I guess that’s why you’ve toned down your lifestyle.”

“It’s not the only reason,” Chuck informed him drily. “But it doesn’t suit my image to be a party boy any more, so if I want to let my hair down, I’m a little more discreet about it.”

“Discreet?” Dan was intrigued despite his better judgements. “So what do you do?”

“That would be telling,” Chuck replied teasingly. “It’s not something you’ll be finding out tonight. But perhaps if we decide to do this again...”

Dan was fairly sure that the alcohol was clouding his judgement at this point, because hanging out with Chuck Bass was starting to feel like a good idea. He was now convinced he was going to make it home without contracting any kind of STI or being stripped naked and dumped in the subway. Chuck was right - they were different people now, the Dan and Chuck of St Jude’s had grown up, and maybe they had more in common than they’d initially assumed.

“Nathaniel told me you were looking out for him,” Chuck said. “He’s been through a lot over the past few weeks with his family and Serena. I like that you care about him.”

“Well, hey, he told me everything you’ve been doing for him too,” Dan replied.

“Everything?”

“Yeah, giving him a place to stay, taking him out last night to get his mind off things. You’re a good guy too, Chuck, even though I can’t believe I’m saying that.”

“Was that all he told you?” Chuck clarified.

“Yeah.” Dan considered the question. “Why, was there something else?”

Chuck didn’t respond to the question, but regarded Dan calmly for a few seconds before changing the subject. “I think it’s about time I took you home, Humphrey. You look absolutely shot.”

Dan went to protest, only to discover that his vision was kind of blurry right now, and that taking the offer to get home safely at this point was probably going to be the smartest thing he would ever do in his life. “Thanks. Can you get my coat? My legs are a little...drunk.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Chuck clicked his fingers.

During the limo ride home, Dan’s main preoccupation was not vomiting on Chuck’s expensive upholstery. With only a few blocks to go, he was feeling fairly confident he was going to make it, but he was pleased that Chuck hadn’t required him to talk to any great extent.

“So, what should I expect from my night in your life tomorrow?” Chuck asked, as though he’d been reading Dan’s mind.

“Well, I have got that paper to write...” Dan mumbled.

“Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“Well, it’s either that or going out with my writer’s group. We were supposed to be critiquing each other’s work.”

Chuck sighed. “If anyone tries to make me write a sonnet about my feelings, Humphrey, I will walk out of there and I will not be coming back.”

“It’s not like that,” Dan reassured him. “There’ll be drinks and we might even go out to a club afterwards. Here.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a thick leather-bound notebook which he pressed clumsily into Chuck’s hands. “This is mine. Take a look. If it’s too painful, let me know and we’ll figure something else out.”

Chuck gazed at him warily. “Think about what you’re doing. Are you sure you want to leave this with me?”

Dan shrugged, which somehow caused him to accidentally bash his head against the window. “Maybe after tonight, I trust you.” The car pulled up outside his building. “This is me. So I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“Count on it,” Chuck replied, running his thumb over the notebook thoughtfully.

Around ten minutes after he got home, Chuck received a Gossip Girl alert (Spotted: Chuck Bass and LonelyBoy out drinking in a very respectable area. I don’t know who I’m more disappointed in. XOXO, GossipGirl), which he’d been expecting, followed a few minutes later by a phone call from Blair, which he’d also been expecting.

“Chuck? Why have you been taking Dan Humphrey out drinking?”

“You receive Gossip Girl updates even when you’re in France?”

Blair ignored this. “Were you that desperate for company without me?”

“Calm yourself, Blair,” Chuck soothed. “I did it as a favour to Nate. I’ll explain all when you get back. How’s France?”

“Beautiful. Breathtaking. Bassless. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“So...you’re hanging out with Dan Humphrey to make Nate happy? That is so sweet.”

“It will be if I survive to the end. I think he wants to take me to a poetry slam tomorrow night or something. Maybe a slumber party. I don’t know, he’s given me this book that he’s written and he wants me to read it.”

“Serena used to make me read his poems sometimes. It was pretty painful.”

“The things we do for the ones we love,” Chuck mused softly, and Blair understood. After Blair finished telling him about an achingly hip new French band she’d been to see that she was determined to fly over to New York next time she was throwing a party, they said their goodbyes and rang off. Strolling over to the drinks cabinet, Chuck poured himself a scotch and sat down at the table to flick through the journal Dan had given him.

The first few pages contained the same sort of stuff: a bunch of half-finished poems about Olivia that Dan had obviously been working on until they broke up, and then abandoned. Then there were what appeared to be Dan’s attempts at experimenting with a new form of verse, though Chuck had no time for that sort of thing and quickly skipped past. He browsed a short story about a girl working in a specialist vinyl store in Queens, then a few more poems which were a little less transparent in their meanings, until he stopped dead at the next item in the book. It was hard to miss it, the title was written in such stark, bold print that it took up a third of the page.

HIM.

Chuck quickly scanned through the book. It was only about four pages long. He glanced at his watch. Sure, he had time to read this one.

Dan woke the next morning wondering how a couple of rats had managed to crawl into his mouth and die before he remembered his night of living like Chuck Bass. The pounding in his head aside, it really hadn’t been that bad, apart from---

Dan sat up, the colour drained from his face, icy beads of sweat already appearing on his forehead. He reached out gingerly for his coat, tapping his fingers gently around the pocket where he kept his writing journal. Nothing. Maybe he’d absentmindedly put it in the other pocket? Nope, nothing.

Then he hadn’t dreamed it. He really had given it to--

Shit.

The phone rang several times before it was picked up, each tone sending a cold tremor through Dan’s entire body. Finally:

“Daniel.”

“Chuck? Hi, it’s -- it’s me. Look, I think I may have left --”

“Your book. You gave it to me last night. I’ve got it here.”

“Oh, thank God. I probably shouldn’t have given it to you, I mean, that was probably just the drink taking control of my entire body and making me completely stupid.”

“So I’m guessing you want it back.”

Dan breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes please.”

“Why don’t you come over? It’s only me here.”

Chuck rang off. Dan tried to swallow, only to discover that a thousand tiny critters had taken up refuge in his throat and were prickling him from every direction. He hoped this was fixable. First coffee, then Chuck.

Less than half an hour later, Dan was standing inside Chuck’s apartment - standing a little shakily admittedly, but undoubtedly standing. Chuck was hovering by the drinks cabinet.

“Good for what ails you,” he offered.

Dan shuddered. “No, thank you. After last night I’m thinking about becoming a functional teetotaller. I just want to grab my book and then I’ll get going.”

“It’s on the table,” Chuck indicated with the slightest nod of his head.

“Thanks.” Dan scurried across the room, picked it up, slipped it into his pocket, and then clamping one hand securely over that pocket, headed for the door. A few steps short, he stopped, falteringly.

“You read it, didn’t you?” he said to the wall.

“I did,” Chuck told him. “Actually, I found it...enlightening.”

“It’s just fiction,” Dan explained, feebly.

“It’s good fiction,” Chuck replied, a smile hiding just behind his carefully maintained visage of indifference. “Vivid. Really clear.”

Dan turned back to face him. “It doesn’t mean anything. Really. I write about a lot of things. Anything that inspires me.”

“So Nate inspires you?”

“It’s not about Nate,” Dan snapped, a little too quickly. “It’s just -- about a guy, that’s all. No one in particular.” He paused. “Look, just tell me what I have to do for you not to tell anyone about this, Chuck. I know that’s where we’re headed, so you might as well just save us both some time.”

“I won’t be telling anyone,” Chuck informed him. “Believe it or not, Humphrey, I have no interest in gossiping about your little bi-curious fantasy. Remember we said at the beginning that if this didn’t work out, we’d never speak of it again. Consider this covered under that deal.”

Dan faltered. “Thank you.”

“You can go.” Chuck gestured vaguely at the door.

“Thank you,” said Dan again, feeling completely unable to walk. He reached out a hand to stabilise himself against the wall, just for a moment. Chuck watched him thoughtfully for a few seconds, before walking over and placing one hand behind Dan’s neck, pulling him in for a soft, gentle kiss. Two, three seconds, no more than that, then they separated, Dan blinking wildly in surprise.

“It isn’t just you,” Chuck said softly. “That attraction comes to all of us at some point. I’ve been there. Nate’s been there.”

Dan considered this. “You and Nate have been there.”

Chuck nodded. “But that goes no further.”

Dan made a vague attempt at a Boy Scout salute. “Of course.”

Chuck looked him in the eye for a second and a flash of understanding leapt between them. Then, suddenly, he changed and was all business. “Now, was there anything else I can help you with?”

“No,” Dan replied. He had about a hundred questions, but this wasn’t the time for any of them. He headed for the door, but hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. Okay, maybe just one of them. “Chuck?”

“Blair and I have an understanding,” Chuck called over his shoulder. “Nathaniel and I have special privileges.” He paused, then added drily, “they don’t include you.”

“Right. Sure.” Dan blushed slightly and pulled the door open. “Listen, Chuck. I really did enjoy last night, and if you still want to hang out tonight, I’d --”

“Be back here at seven,” Chuck interrupted. “I’m taking you to Chelsea so we can get it out of your system.”

Dan smiled at him, and pulled the door shut behind him.

“You were right after all,” Chuck told Nate later that day. “Humphrey is a good man.”

“I told you!” Nate beamed. “I knew there’d be some common ground there somewhere.”

Chuck agreed, and kissed him.