Oh, Brother...
Title: Oh, Brother...
Characters: Chuck, Serena
Rating/Word Count: G | 725
One-Line Excerpt: The word tastes a little like vomit, a lot wrong.
OH, BROTHER...
She hates her -
Ugh. Somebody maim her, she almost said the dreaded word.
He is not her brother, dammit. She'd allow "step-brother" because, yes, her mother had married his father and they were now living together, but even that word made her skin crawl. Still, she tries "brother" on her tongue for a moment (silently, lest he be in the vicinity and pounce on the brother-sister possibilities). And she gags. The word tastes a little like vomit, a lot wrong.
She's only the only girl, it seems, that he's never managed to take to his bed. Bar once, when sort of blackmailing her, he'd actually never tried to get in her pants, which Serena doesn't know quite how to take. Perhaps she should be proud of that feat, that victory of hers. It sounds a hell of a lot better than pouting because he hadn't tried to "tap her ass", as he was wont to say once upon a time. The doctors must see him regularly, Serena muses to herself.
Still, she's an anomaly, she supposes, but she's absolutely ready to wear the word like a shield because no way is she jealous of the hordes of plundered land (she shudders at the analogy). Truly, she doesn't get the Chuck love. He's a slimy bastard with a girly taste for fashion.
She hadn't checked what he'd be wearing for the day, but it looks like he checked up on her. She just doesn't even want to contemplate how he could have accomplished this feat. Hole in the wall, lipstick camera, whatever. It wouldn't be below Chuck at all to check her out while checking up on what she'd be wearing for the day.
Disgusting...
Orange! And a huge splash of it, too!
Then again, Chuck Bass loves to shock, doesn't he. He wouldn't be Chuck Bass if he didn't; he'd be Charles Bass, or Charlie Bass at most, something refined and frilly that ill-fits Chuck's entire persona. He's just not the quiet society type, he's the dapper predator type. Yet come to think of it, Serena is pretty sure no one knows where Chuck's nickname ever came from. Not that it matters, it's just a bit mysterious. Like him, actually.
But she's deviating. He loves fashion, the kind that is long past but with a modern twist. Like his trenchcoat this morning, for instance. He uses fashion, like his own kind of crude humour, to startle and shock conservative folk, and excite the rest of them. He does it rather brilliantly, she'll give him that. It's always interesting being in his presence when stuck-up bluestockings whisper behind their hands not-so-secretively.
The freak is a walking shocker, and he loves it.
Serena rolls her eyes as Chuck (not-her-brother) Bass sits next to her in all his orange flashiness. "Dogging me now, are you?"
He smirks, a rapacious gleam darkening his eyes to their usual lothario shade - only he was now joking. "In your wildest fantasies, sister dearest," he counters, smooth voice like intimate decadence. Well. She thinks he's kidding.
But more pressing matters demand attention. Such as... Serena van der Woodsen will never be Chuck Bass's sister. Period. All arguments to the contrary are invalid.
"You're disgusting," Serena manages when she can trust her throat not to projectile-vomit. "And I'll never be your sister," she adds hurriedly, just in case he should get it in his head that she likes being called that.
Repeating oneself does not hurt. Drives the point across superbly, though you never know with one Chuck Bass.
Unruffled (ha, she knew it), Chuck leans sideways into her - pressing into her. Ugh. "Why fight our chemistry?" he asks almost seriously, decidedly having fun ruffling her feathers.
Of course, he loves rebuffs.
Serena feels like her stomach wants to fling itself out of her mouth. She knows he's trying to rile her up for his own entertainment. Doesn't he have anything better to do than to annoy her, she grouses to herself, and latches onto that thought. Yes he does. "Because you're Chuck Bass!" she exclaims, scooting a fair foot away. "And you're looking for Blair!" Flailing her hand in the general direction her friend has just gone, Serena adds quite emphatically, "She went that way. Ta!" And hopes he'll take the bait.
Like a dog on the scent, Chuck does. He goes.
God save Blair.