the third (chuck/nate)
Title: the third
Disclaimer: 'Gossip Girl' belongs to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz, and the CW. No copyright infringement intended.
Characters/Pairing: Nate, Chuck/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Takes place during 1x11 "Roman Holiday", but the idea/teaser's from 3x10 "The Last Days of Disco Stick".
Author's Notes: A Secret Santa gifty for mywholecry!
I hope you enjoy it! xoxo
Summary: "Buddy, okay, I know things? I, I've been to Europe, Chuck Bass is my best friend..."
---
Nate Archibald feels out of place in his own skin.
He feels out of place in Manhattan, out of place in that twelve-year-glint in Blair Waldorf's eyes where he's lived out some perfect life she's planned for him since they were children. She wants him to come back to Manhattan, spend Christmas Eve with her.
Like things are okay.
He rolls a joint on the hotel balcony and hums a little to himself as he does.
Thus, Monaco. At Christmas.
No one there knows his name except for his host, Chuck Bass, and the pretty housekeeping girls who smile and say "Mister Nathaniel" with lilting European accents he can't place.
Nate is fine with that. Fine with being off the grid, as it were. And of course when you grow up on the Upper East Side, one can definitely be off the grid in Monaco.
"What do you want to do today?" Chuck asks from the grand foyer of their suite, and Nate shrugs, letting his fingers play with the edges of the joint.
"I don't know," Nate answers honestly, leaning back against the railing. "Didn't have much in mind other than this, so I'm good with whatever you want to do."
"Shall we go down to the pool to peruse the offerings?" Chuck suggests.
"Peruse the offerings?" Nate says with a smile. "You're talking like you mean the library or something."
"In a way you could say that," Chuck replies. "Check something out and give it back after you're done."
"God bless the public library," Nate says.
---
They watch the girls go by at the pool; Chuck's face is intent, keen, his eyes narrowed.
Nate doesn't really give a shit.
That's probably the pot.
"How about her?" Chuck says, and Nate looks up.
Dark-eyed brunette. Cunning features, smart eyes and clever mouth. Too familiar, too close.
Something rises up in his throat, and it's a soft, slow, "No."
"No?" Chuck says. "I thought you liked brunettes."
"I do, sure," Nate says.
"She's a fine example of a brunette."
"Sure," Nate says again, "but come on, Chuck, no. I'm not going to..."
"Cheat on Blair?" Chuck says, and Nate doesn't exactly cringe, not visibly. Mostly internally.
"Yeah, no, not gonna," he replies.
Chuck makes a sound with his mouth like he's thinking. "That's... too bad," he says finally.
"Are you encouraging me to cheat? Come on, man," Nate says, letting his head tilt back over the back of his lounge chair.
"What about her?" Chuck says, and Nate brings his head back up again.
Tall, long blonde hair, legs for days, bare feet. She's laughing and carrying a sun hat. She's beautiful.
Nate is silent.
"I know you like blondes too," Chuck says, and there's something there in his voice that Nate doesn't like.
"Not cool, Chuck," Nate says.
"I'll go talk to her," Chuck offers, and he's already getting up.
---
Chuck has convinced the blonde up to their suite, and he is stroking her bare right ankle, talking with her in low tones as they sit on the couch.
Nate, over in the armchair, is averting his eyes from them. He can't hear the timbre of her voice, doesn't want to hear it. He's afraid to hear it, and he knows it's stupid, but if she opens her mouth and anything close to Serena's voice comes out--
"Nathaniel," Chuck says, and Nate looks over at him. "Come say hello to our guest."
Nate gets up, slowly, unsteadily. He doesn't look at her face as he stands in front of them at the couch. "Hey," he says.
"Halloo," and her voice is soft, accented, smiling. Nothing to be afraid of.
"Should I leave you two to get acquainted?" Chuck asks, starting to rise.
"No," Nate says, his mouth dry. "No, stay. Make sure that..."
"That nothing happens?" Chuck finishes for him. "As far as anyone back in New York knows, Nathaniel, nothing ever happens here."
"Chuck," Nate says, "I trust you."
Chuck just looks at him. "Sometimes I don't know if you should," he replies.
---
The girl is across the room, laughing and opening another bottle of wine, and Nate slouches against Chuck's shoulder.
"Are you tired?" Chuck asks.
"Mmph," Nate says.
"You want me to go?"
"No," Nate says, leaning harder against Chuck. "No, I want you here."
"Do you want her?" Chuck asks, nodding in the direction of the girl as she pours three glasses of wine for them.
"Shit, man, I don't know," Nate says. "I mean, there's Blair, and... I mean, Chuck, this girl is a stranger."
The girl places the glasses on the table in front of them, smiling as she sits too close to Nate, her body warm against his side.
"That's all right," Chuck says, his voice so low that Nate can barely hear him, and surely the girl can't. "The third is always a stranger."
---
It's morning.
Christmas morning.
Someone is kissing Nate's collarbone, and the girl is gone.
"This doesn't make shit weird now, does it?" Nate asks the ceiling, not turning his head.
"No," Chuck says.
"I mean, you can keep secrets. I can keep secrets."
"Yes," Chuck says. He's smiling when he says it, and Nate can feel his teeth. "I've always kept your secrets, Nathaniel."
"As long as Gossip Girl doesn't find out -- as long as Blair doesn't find out -- we're cool, right?"
"Always."
---
There's a voice mail from Blair.
Chuck, you are not answering my calls to torture me, I am sure, but please, for the love of God, do not tell anybody about us. Okay? Please? Please.
She gets a text back on Christmas morning, and it's the same thing he tells Nate:
Don't worry, B. Who would I Tell?
Disclaimer: 'Gossip Girl' belongs to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz, and the CW. No copyright infringement intended.
Characters/Pairing: Nate, Chuck/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Takes place during 1x11 "Roman Holiday", but the idea/teaser's from 3x10 "The Last Days of Disco Stick".
Author's Notes: A Secret Santa gifty for mywholecry!
I hope you enjoy it! xoxo
Summary: "Buddy, okay, I know things? I, I've been to Europe, Chuck Bass is my best friend..."
---
Nate Archibald feels out of place in his own skin.
He feels out of place in Manhattan, out of place in that twelve-year-glint in Blair Waldorf's eyes where he's lived out some perfect life she's planned for him since they were children. She wants him to come back to Manhattan, spend Christmas Eve with her.
Like things are okay.
He rolls a joint on the hotel balcony and hums a little to himself as he does.
Thus, Monaco. At Christmas.
No one there knows his name except for his host, Chuck Bass, and the pretty housekeeping girls who smile and say "Mister Nathaniel" with lilting European accents he can't place.
Nate is fine with that. Fine with being off the grid, as it were. And of course when you grow up on the Upper East Side, one can definitely be off the grid in Monaco.
"What do you want to do today?" Chuck asks from the grand foyer of their suite, and Nate shrugs, letting his fingers play with the edges of the joint.
"I don't know," Nate answers honestly, leaning back against the railing. "Didn't have much in mind other than this, so I'm good with whatever you want to do."
"Shall we go down to the pool to peruse the offerings?" Chuck suggests.
"Peruse the offerings?" Nate says with a smile. "You're talking like you mean the library or something."
"In a way you could say that," Chuck replies. "Check something out and give it back after you're done."
"God bless the public library," Nate says.
---
They watch the girls go by at the pool; Chuck's face is intent, keen, his eyes narrowed.
Nate doesn't really give a shit.
That's probably the pot.
"How about her?" Chuck says, and Nate looks up.
Dark-eyed brunette. Cunning features, smart eyes and clever mouth. Too familiar, too close.
Something rises up in his throat, and it's a soft, slow, "No."
"No?" Chuck says. "I thought you liked brunettes."
"I do, sure," Nate says.
"She's a fine example of a brunette."
"Sure," Nate says again, "but come on, Chuck, no. I'm not going to..."
"Cheat on Blair?" Chuck says, and Nate doesn't exactly cringe, not visibly. Mostly internally.
"Yeah, no, not gonna," he replies.
Chuck makes a sound with his mouth like he's thinking. "That's... too bad," he says finally.
"Are you encouraging me to cheat? Come on, man," Nate says, letting his head tilt back over the back of his lounge chair.
"What about her?" Chuck says, and Nate brings his head back up again.
Tall, long blonde hair, legs for days, bare feet. She's laughing and carrying a sun hat. She's beautiful.
Nate is silent.
"I know you like blondes too," Chuck says, and there's something there in his voice that Nate doesn't like.
"Not cool, Chuck," Nate says.
"I'll go talk to her," Chuck offers, and he's already getting up.
---
Chuck has convinced the blonde up to their suite, and he is stroking her bare right ankle, talking with her in low tones as they sit on the couch.
Nate, over in the armchair, is averting his eyes from them. He can't hear the timbre of her voice, doesn't want to hear it. He's afraid to hear it, and he knows it's stupid, but if she opens her mouth and anything close to Serena's voice comes out--
"Nathaniel," Chuck says, and Nate looks over at him. "Come say hello to our guest."
Nate gets up, slowly, unsteadily. He doesn't look at her face as he stands in front of them at the couch. "Hey," he says.
"Halloo," and her voice is soft, accented, smiling. Nothing to be afraid of.
"Should I leave you two to get acquainted?" Chuck asks, starting to rise.
"No," Nate says, his mouth dry. "No, stay. Make sure that..."
"That nothing happens?" Chuck finishes for him. "As far as anyone back in New York knows, Nathaniel, nothing ever happens here."
"Chuck," Nate says, "I trust you."
Chuck just looks at him. "Sometimes I don't know if you should," he replies.
---
The girl is across the room, laughing and opening another bottle of wine, and Nate slouches against Chuck's shoulder.
"Are you tired?" Chuck asks.
"Mmph," Nate says.
"You want me to go?"
"No," Nate says, leaning harder against Chuck. "No, I want you here."
"Do you want her?" Chuck asks, nodding in the direction of the girl as she pours three glasses of wine for them.
"Shit, man, I don't know," Nate says. "I mean, there's Blair, and... I mean, Chuck, this girl is a stranger."
The girl places the glasses on the table in front of them, smiling as she sits too close to Nate, her body warm against his side.
"That's all right," Chuck says, his voice so low that Nate can barely hear him, and surely the girl can't. "The third is always a stranger."
---
It's morning.
Christmas morning.
Someone is kissing Nate's collarbone, and the girl is gone.
"This doesn't make shit weird now, does it?" Nate asks the ceiling, not turning his head.
"No," Chuck says.
"I mean, you can keep secrets. I can keep secrets."
"Yes," Chuck says. He's smiling when he says it, and Nate can feel his teeth. "I've always kept your secrets, Nathaniel."
"As long as Gossip Girl doesn't find out -- as long as Blair doesn't find out -- we're cool, right?"
"Always."
---
There's a voice mail from Blair.
Chuck, you are not answering my calls to torture me, I am sure, but please, for the love of God, do not tell anybody about us. Okay? Please? Please.
She gets a text back on Christmas morning, and it's the same thing he tells Nate:
Don't worry, B. Who would I Tell?