Kissing her
Disclaimer: I don’t own Gossip Girl. This story is just for fun.
Spoilers: Season 2, episode 3, promo clips.
Summary: Companion piece to “Fairytale ending”. Chucks’ POV. He was scared senseless, but he had to do it. Had to say it. Had to keep her fire for himself. Inspired by the promo clips for “Dark Night”. Blair/Chuck
A/N: Read and review, please. Thanks to all the reviewers for “Fairytale ending”. Hope you like this one as well. Kisses and hugs.
Kissing her
How could he have been so stupid or so tongue - tied, he would never know. All that he had to do was say three words, three stupid words. Eight letters and she would have never left his side. He would have made sure of it. But no, not a chance. He had to stumble on his words, had to give her all the wrong reasons. Though, to be honest, what was wrong with “I’m Chuck Bass”? Worked wonders so far. Than again, he never tried it on someone who could pull “I’m Blair Cornelia Waldorf” out of her Ives Saint Laurent hat and work it just as well. Maybe she had to be treated differently. Maybe? What the hell was he thinking? Of course she had to be treated differently… She was different, she was his match in every way: a jerk and a bitch, a self - centered idiot and an insecure, self - conscious fool. Yes, he knew her, he knew all about her inadequacies, about her desire to be even more perfect than she already was, about her deep - rooted jealousy of Serena, how it all came down to nobody really being there for her when she needed them most.
But he had been there for her when Nate turned out to be less and less interested in her and still in love with Serena. He had held her through her moments of sorrow or relief, as she had claimed. Had challenged her to loose her inhibitions and believe in her beauty. And believe it or not, she did. That had been an experience to remember and something he wished he had a camera to record. And then, the unbelievable had happened: she had dropped the chastity belt. In the back of a moving vehicle… With him. That was mind - boggling and the reason for his current obsession and predicament.
His last chat with her had been part desperately making - out, part trying to get her to admit that her newest “knight in shining armor” couldn’t match his love, his passion, his intensity. That Marcus, the Lord of Whocareswhat, was too “goody - two - shoes” for the Queen Bitch of the Upper East Side. How he had lost his head and turned desperate enough to ask her to sleep with him, just once more… How could he have told her that he needed her, it was beyond his comprehension. He was Chuck Bass, damn it, he didn’t need women, they needed him. Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He needed her more than anything. And she wasn’t really taking him back.
At least not yet, which is why he was trying to drown his sorrows at the bottom of a glass of scotch and in the company of two very beautiful ladies. Ladies that had nothing on Blair, not her manners, not her perverse glint in the eyes, not her smile, her porcelain skin or her chocolate brown curls. Fuck, he really was a closet romantic. Right, that couldn’t get out there, or his reputation would never survive it. Women, booze, leers, that was his thing…
“Ladies, let me tell you how refreshingly natural and beautiful you are. Just what the doctor ordered for me. Care to join me in some private therapy back at my suite? Perhaps you can fix me…” He eyed them critically and concluded that they would be fine for a night of forgetting her, even if the drink in his hand was the same since the night started. God, she could make him stop drinking! Right, out of sight, out of mind…
He stood up from the leather couch at Victrola and offered each of his arms to the two women. It must have been around four in the morning, so even that Cerber at the hotel reception should be less than attentive. He would always throw a fit when he saw him come in with “ladies”. Walking out and to the car turned out to be more of a problem than he had anticipated, since the blonde one… Cindy, Mindy… anyway, she was drunker than a trucker. She kept swaying and grabbing him all over. Of course, he grabbed right back. Finally, the limousine door! Right, be a gentleman, push the drunk blonde in first. Ok, there she goes…
What on… He didn’t recall his limousine having springs, but the woman definitely bounced right back out and started screeching like a banshee. Well, for someone who hadn’t said two words all night, she certainly had good lungs.
And there she was, the source of all the trouble: Blair Waldorf, stepping royally out of his limousine, like she belonged there. Hell, she belonged there better than any of those girls. He couldn’t really believe his eyes, but then again he knew all her bravado about the “wonderful” sex life was just a lie. He felt her shiver at his touch, at his words. He felt her waver when he confessed that he wanted her. And now she was here, in all her glory. His smile slowly spread out, from ear to ear and he just knew it was irking the devil out of her. After all, nobody could pull out an “I know you want me” smile better than Chuck Bass. Eyeing her carefully, he decided that maybe he should tell the ladies goodnight here and not press his luck any further. But she took care of that too…
“You two … Disappear, now!” Blair said, almost hissing and spitting like a cat. “And never touch him again, for all the money in the world. Because unlike you, I actually do have all the money and the resources to track you down and make you regret it.” Oh, yes, she was definitely hissing and spitting, he could see it clearly now. Just as clearly as he could tell that she was a woman on a mission.
For a minute there he panicked thinking that she came to tell him that their little game was over, that she had found something worth her while in the lord or some other idiot… But no, that couldn’t be it. She was jealous. She was fuming. And she was talking to him, so he better pay attention.
“Get in the limo. And not a word before I’m done talking. Is that clear, Chuck?” Crystal! Not a word, nada, zilch. He got it. Maybe… No, no hoping until he heard her say it.
So, silently and not once wiping the annoying smile of his face, he got in the limo and started a staring contest. For the first time that night, he noticed things about her: like how she was paler than usual, how her lower lip trembled, how her hands couldn’t stop shaking. She was nervous… He was making her nervous. Incredible… Maybe there still was hope for him. And then she started talking.
“Look, Chuck, I… I… “ she practically chocked on her first words. He stood still and quiet, knowing that what she had to say could make them or break them. She gathered her courage and went on. “I don’t have feelings for Marcus. I thought I loved Nate, but, as you so annoyingly pointed out, we didn’t belong together. I hate to admit this, really, really hate this, but… I belong with you. You belong with me. I, I… Oh, for the sake of… I love you. There, I’ve said it. You scarf-wearing son of a bitch ruined my summer. My perfect little world, ruined by you. Why couldn’t you remain a heartless bastard and a leering, disgusting jerk and let me have my one and only happy - ending? Why did you have to come and show me how much better it could get, how I could loose sleep because of a kiss, of a touch, how I could yearn for something I never should have known exists? You told me that’s what you loved about me, the fire hidden behind the pristine, high society manners. Well, here is your last shot, Chuck. Want that fire all to yourself? Want that to never burn for anyone but you? Tell me the truth. Do you love me? Do you feel something for me at all? Tell me that I didn’t just make a complete fool out of myself.”
He was hearing things… She couldn’t have just said that. That… She loved him. He wasn’t imagining things. This was real, it was here. A second, third, fourth chance. The last one, that he knew for sure. So there it was: take it or leave it. Tell her the truth, form those cursed words, have her all for him, have that fire in the palm of his hand, live as her King… Or just keep being Chuck Bass, drinking the night away, sleeping with a different woman every night and generally being an unhappy bastard. A scarf - wearing bastard, but none the less… It wasn’t even a competition. He wanted her and he would have her. But he was scared. He didn’t have her courage or her idealism. He couldn’t plunge right in.
So, he did what he knew best. Touched her. Took her face in his hands and wiped away her tears. She was crying and she didn’t even know it. For him. All his. Kissed her eyelids to sooth her pain, her cheekbones, her perky nose and, finally, tenderly, her lips. Full, opened, ready for him, as she always had been. But the tenderness wasn’t really his thing and he was feeling an urgent desire of having her right where she belonged: in his arms, draped all over him. Without delay, almost feverishly, he pulled her in his lap and opened his mouth, praying to whatever God would still listen to him that his mouth wouldn’t take off before his brains.
“You thought you could go away with your knight in shining armor and that I wouldn’t follow you.” He almost sneered at the memory of her kissing that man on the stairs of her house the night of the party. “I told you once, I’ll tell you again. In the face of true love, one never gives up, not even when the object of your affection is begging you to. I made a stupid, idiotic, moronic mistake. I didn’t have the courage to face you afterwards.” Well, he did value his life. He was in love, not suicidal… Wait, did he just admit that he loved her… “I thought… I thought that I would be noble enough to let you find happiness elsewhere or that I simply didn’t care enough to mind if you showed up with a new boy toy. Truth is I was dead wrong. I never felt worse in my entire life than in the moment when I saw you kiss that guy at the Jitney. And I swore that I would get you back, no matter what. Apparently, all I had to do was let you stew a while. You came back on your own.” He felt quite proud of himself for telling her how much she meant to him without really saying those words. But apparently, it wasn’t enough for her. She was slowly loosing color and she started fussing around, as if she wanted to slap him or leave. Probably both, knowing her. Perhaps he needed to be more specific.
“Seems to me that you didn’t quite get the message, Queen B. Seems to me that you think I am not appreciating your out of character honesty. You think I’m treating you like a jerk, like you are some sort of conquest, another notch on the bedpost. Well, let me make this really clear for you. Waldorf, stop being an insecure idiot and kiss me. Because I do love you.” He had said it. His mind was going in overdrive, but he did it. Now, why had he been so scared to begin with? “I think I’ve loved you for quite a while. But what the hell, I’m Chuck Bass. If it isn’t lust, it takes a while for me to figure it out. So, sorry for being slow on the uptake. But I love you.” He said it again and he didn’t loose an arm, an eye or his mind. So it must be a good thing. Oh, he had something else to say as well. ”And if I ever see you with that lord guy… Well, he is not a lord in the Upper East Side. I am. As you so eloquently put it earlier, I have both the resources and the money to make him regret his stint in America. Clear enough for you, Blair?”
He finished his speech one hair breath away from her lips, but he decided not to kiss her. Oh, no. He had chased her all over the place. Now it was her move. If she wanted him, she had to take him just like he was. And she did, she crashed her lips to his with an urgency that set him on fire. Not that her close proximity didn’t have that effect on him anyway…
Kissing her was like a fine scotch: messy, annoying, but with a kick and a fire that could burn down entire countries. It was her all the way: insecure and neurotic, a control freak. Beautiful and soft, romantic. A bitch to the bone. Mean as hell. But she was his, and he was hers. And that was all that mattered right then and there.