He's Chuck Bass [Gossip Girl; Chuck/Blair]
TITLE: He's Chuck Bass
FANDOM: Gossip Girl
PAIRING: Chuck/Blair
SPOILERS: Much 'I Do' About Nothing (1x18)
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY:
*****
They stayed up plotting well into the night on how to best bring down Georgina Sparks for the sake of Serena. He laid on the floor with one arm bent behind his head, the other across his midsection. She was on her plush bed above him, on her side near the edge, propped up on her elbow with her head leaning on her hand. The two of them talked logistics -- who between him, her, and Nate, would do what. They talked specifics -- times, places. Blair even pulled out her laptop for some extra research. When all was said and done, they had a pretty damned dastardly plan in the works. They made quite the pair of evil geniuses.
By the time they'd finished plotting, it was close to four in the morning. Which, for him was an early bedtime, but he knew that unless there was a party going on, Blair liked to get her beauty sleep. So he laid back on the floor and re-hashed their plan... slowly... methodically, almost rhythmically. Blair joined in for the first half, but he noticed that during the second half she was unusually quiet. When he finished the recap, the room was completely silent save for the sound of slow, deep breathing; she had fallen asleep.
So Chuck leaned back against the pillow that was his arm and he thought -- about everything. This was something he didn't allow himself to do much: think. Nate was a thinker and he was totally screwed. Serena was a thinker and look how fucked up she was. It was not thinking that set him apart from his friends. But he couldn't help but run over in his mind all the events of the past year -- Serena's return, Jenny, Nate's dad, Blair, the pool party, the merging of his family with the van der Woodsens, Georgina and back to Serena. So much had been packed into one year, he almost wondered how they'd all survive senior year.
A soft murmur above him drew his attention and he slowly propped himself up on his elbows, looking up toward the bed. One of Blair's hands just barely dangled over the edge of the mattress -- the hand that housed the red sapphire ring -- and Chuck felt a smile plucking at his lips for no good reason.
He sat up fully before kneeling, leaning his arms carefully on the bed. He studied the sleeping girl in front of him, contemplating getting her into some pajamas. He figured Blair Waldorf would be the type to throw a conniption fit if one of her precious dresses got wrinkled. But then he figured if he did undress her, she'd kill him. So, there went that idea.
"Blair." He spoke her name softly, almost a whisper. Maybe if he woke her up before she fell too deeply asleep and got her to change on her own, she'd have nothing to be pissed at him about.
Of course, she'd kick him out of her room. And he hated to admit it, but... he kind of liked hanging out in her room. Even if there was no prospect of screwing her brains out.
"Blair." He tried again, just a little louder, after receiving no response.
This time, she murmured a little and slid over on the bed, nestling her head into one of her tan pillows. Chuck sighed, resigning himself to the fact that if she refused to wake up, it'd be her fault her dress got wrinkled. He wasn't about to call her name for an hour.
He studied her face then. In sleep, she looked different. Pure, untouched... fascinating in the way she was before that night in his limo. She looked almost innocent, if Blair Waldorf could ever be referred to as such. Her long lashes fluttered in sleep and her supple lips, painted cherry red today, pouted a little with each breath. He wanted to lean down and kiss her.
Her long ebony curls were splayed all around her shoulders, face, and across her pillow. Chuck's hand twitched with the urge to reach over and move a few of those curls off of her snow white cheek.
Luckily, he stopped himself halfway there, his brain having caught up with him. What was he doing? What the fuck was he doing? He was Chuck Bass.
He kept repeating his inner mantra -- I'm Chuck Bass -- in his head over and over again as he climbed onto the bed beside her, and as he laid his head down on her blue silk throw pillow.
I'm Chuck Bass, he thought as Blair inched a little closer to him in sleep, throwing her knee over his hip.
And as he wrapped his arm around her and closed his eyes, he reminded himself one last time: I'm Chuck Bass. He didn't get all moony over girls. Especially not icy bitches like Blair Waldorf.
But... there was a possibility that Chuck Bass could fall in love.
Maybe.
FIN
Like what you've read? Why don't you watch or join the community?
FANDOM: Gossip Girl
PAIRING: Chuck/Blair
SPOILERS: Much 'I Do' About Nothing (1x18)
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY:
*****
They stayed up plotting well into the night on how to best bring down Georgina Sparks for the sake of Serena. He laid on the floor with one arm bent behind his head, the other across his midsection. She was on her plush bed above him, on her side near the edge, propped up on her elbow with her head leaning on her hand. The two of them talked logistics -- who between him, her, and Nate, would do what. They talked specifics -- times, places. Blair even pulled out her laptop for some extra research. When all was said and done, they had a pretty damned dastardly plan in the works. They made quite the pair of evil geniuses.
By the time they'd finished plotting, it was close to four in the morning. Which, for him was an early bedtime, but he knew that unless there was a party going on, Blair liked to get her beauty sleep. So he laid back on the floor and re-hashed their plan... slowly... methodically, almost rhythmically. Blair joined in for the first half, but he noticed that during the second half she was unusually quiet. When he finished the recap, the room was completely silent save for the sound of slow, deep breathing; she had fallen asleep.
So Chuck leaned back against the pillow that was his arm and he thought -- about everything. This was something he didn't allow himself to do much: think. Nate was a thinker and he was totally screwed. Serena was a thinker and look how fucked up she was. It was not thinking that set him apart from his friends. But he couldn't help but run over in his mind all the events of the past year -- Serena's return, Jenny, Nate's dad, Blair, the pool party, the merging of his family with the van der Woodsens, Georgina and back to Serena. So much had been packed into one year, he almost wondered how they'd all survive senior year.
A soft murmur above him drew his attention and he slowly propped himself up on his elbows, looking up toward the bed. One of Blair's hands just barely dangled over the edge of the mattress -- the hand that housed the red sapphire ring -- and Chuck felt a smile plucking at his lips for no good reason.
He sat up fully before kneeling, leaning his arms carefully on the bed. He studied the sleeping girl in front of him, contemplating getting her into some pajamas. He figured Blair Waldorf would be the type to throw a conniption fit if one of her precious dresses got wrinkled. But then he figured if he did undress her, she'd kill him. So, there went that idea.
"Blair." He spoke her name softly, almost a whisper. Maybe if he woke her up before she fell too deeply asleep and got her to change on her own, she'd have nothing to be pissed at him about.
Of course, she'd kick him out of her room. And he hated to admit it, but... he kind of liked hanging out in her room. Even if there was no prospect of screwing her brains out.
"Blair." He tried again, just a little louder, after receiving no response.
This time, she murmured a little and slid over on the bed, nestling her head into one of her tan pillows. Chuck sighed, resigning himself to the fact that if she refused to wake up, it'd be her fault her dress got wrinkled. He wasn't about to call her name for an hour.
He studied her face then. In sleep, she looked different. Pure, untouched... fascinating in the way she was before that night in his limo. She looked almost innocent, if Blair Waldorf could ever be referred to as such. Her long lashes fluttered in sleep and her supple lips, painted cherry red today, pouted a little with each breath. He wanted to lean down and kiss her.
Her long ebony curls were splayed all around her shoulders, face, and across her pillow. Chuck's hand twitched with the urge to reach over and move a few of those curls off of her snow white cheek.
Luckily, he stopped himself halfway there, his brain having caught up with him. What was he doing? What the fuck was he doing? He was Chuck Bass.
He kept repeating his inner mantra -- I'm Chuck Bass -- in his head over and over again as he climbed onto the bed beside her, and as he laid his head down on her blue silk throw pillow.
I'm Chuck Bass, he thought as Blair inched a little closer to him in sleep, throwing her knee over his hip.
And as he wrapped his arm around her and closed his eyes, he reminded himself one last time: I'm Chuck Bass. He didn't get all moony over girls. Especially not icy bitches like Blair Waldorf.
But... there was a possibility that Chuck Bass could fall in love.
Maybe.
FIN
Like what you've read? Why don't you watch or join the community?