InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "She shot me in the hat, Ray."

Chuck Bass (thirdbasebass) wrote in gossipghoul,
@ 2012-08-08 10:56:00

Entry tags:

blair waldorf, chuck bass

Who: Blair and Chuck
What: Blair needs new clothes
Where: Downstairs in the lobby, then in Chuck's room
When: Right after this
Rating: Probably lowish. Possible swearing.

Despite Blair's trademark prissiness, the corners of Chuck's lips turned up just slightly. He'd seen Blair drunk and annoyed before, and he'd thought it was pretty cute then, as now. Of course, this time that cuteness made his stomach churned with some emotion that he would really rather not think about, but he dismissed that pretty easily, although he did say, "Awww she's cute when she's angry." The sarcasm expertly layered into his voice should have diverted her suspicion that he was sort of half-serious, and hopefully it would get on her nerves even more. "Cute," he knew, was for kittens and puppies, not for elegant, classy, Audrey-Hepburn wannabes like Blair.

His eyes glazed over just a little at the idea of her in a French maid's outfit. "Mmm that'll be the day. A good day. But no, fear not. I can have something sent up for you." Given the nature of Chuck's fondness for a particular clothingless activity, he (or rather, the hotel staff) was used to having various assortments of female clothing on hand, in case something got lost or ripped. He was nothing if not a gentleman, after all.

Chuck watched her steady herself on the bar and offered her an arm, stepping lightly toward the elevator. Before he reached it, however, he paused and beckoned to his favorite security guard, speaking low and gesturing toward Carter and Dan as he gave him some instructions. He looked self-satisfied as the guard walked away, and he pushed the button for the elevator, which began its slow descent.

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thirdbasebass
2012-08-16 05:35 am UTC (link)

Like Blair, Chuck had also felt a certain renewed sense of security when he'd been able to shower and change into clean, classy, comfortable clothing. Obviously the experience they faced now was far beyond the ordinary, but that, Chuck thought, only entitled them to more creature comforts than usual. They'd lived through an ordeal, hadn't they? Therefore, they deserved as much pampering the circumstances would allow, and he was satisfied (for now) that their circumstances were rather adequate.

"That wasn't the first time," Chuck informed her, his voice suddenly assuming a strange, faraway quality that indicated he was being more openly contemplative than usual. "I took some from my father once. In third or fourth grade. I was... curious." Bart was always drinking it, after all. It wasn't hard to access, once Chuck had gotten tall enough to reach the decanter that was always half-full in his father's office. Of course, Chuck didn't have to add that he'd only made that mistake once.

Chuck nodded at her proposed toast and, at her expectant glance, actually felt a wave a strange, although not totally unfamiliar emotion - shame. "How careless of me," he chided himself, turning to his private alcohol collection. "What would you like to toast with?"

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queenlyb
2012-08-17 04:04 am UTC (link)

Her fork stilled against the plate as Blair listened intently, surprised that Chuck was speaking openly about his childhood. Curious Blair repeated to herself dryly, thinking of just how much bad behavior could be laid at the feet of Chuck's curiosity. It was strange to remember when she had first known him, before the scotches, and the conquests, and the "I'm Chuck Bass"es. There had been a time when Chuck had just been a boy, as unbelievable as it seemed to her now.

Satisfied that he looked properly apologetic, Blair bestowed on him a beatific smile and relaxed against the cushions. "Some kind of martini. I don't care how you make, as long as it's not neat." Her drinks were really the only thing that Blair preferred dirty.

She allowed her eyes to drift shut as he busied himself with fixing her a drink, enjoying the feeling of being clean and full and back in the lap of luxury where she so clearly belonged. But Blair being Blair, this mindless contentment did not last for long.

"Do you think this means we won't have classes anytime soon?" she abruptly asked, her thoughts turning to Nelly Yuki and the handful of students she counted as academic rivals. What about her SAT prep classes? And networking at the alumni benefit? And showing the school how totally fine she was with Serena being back again? What about all of that?

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thirdbasebass
2012-08-18 02:48 am UTC (link)

As Blair decided on her drink, Chuck was inwardly berating himself for revealing any detail of his past. It was unseemly. Granted, he and Blair actually knew a hell of a lot more about each other than either of them probably cared to admit, but even so, Chuck preferred to keep his dirty laundry as private as possible, especially as far as his family was concerned. It was a small detail, yes, but the devil was in the details.

Or, as Chuck liked to think, the real devil was in the absence of them. Little stories about his father, or passing comments about their relationship, only made him look more complex from the outside. The details humanized him, they reminded people that he wasn't just the one-track-minded bastard the majority of the Upper East Side (plus anyone else who read Gossip Girl) thought he was. But growing up rich and powerful and always in the spotlight had taught him that appearing human often caused more problems than it solved. Better to play into Gossip Girl's narrative; better to give the people what they wanted. It was easy to fit into their role. Too easy. Making them believe what they wanted to believe gave him power, and Chuck found it much easier to con them than try to make them understand him.

So, as he prepared the martini, tipping a liberal amount of olive juice into the cup, he smirked and said exactly what anyone would've expected him to say. "I knew you liked it dirty," he teased, passing her the drink and raising his own glass for the earlier toast.

"I don't know," he said honestly, in response to her question. "At the very least I doubt that there'll be school tomorrow, given what happened at the dance. I'm sure Queller will be in contact." He paused, a simultaneously joyous and sickening thought occurring to him. "If she survived."

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queenlyb
2012-08-18 08:16 pm UTC (link)

An eyeroll at his double entendre was his only reward for fixing her a drink. She returned the silent salute, before taking an experimental sip from the glass. It obviously pleased her and she belatedly gave him a little nod of gratitude before resuming her lounging position on the couch.

Blair also felt a swoop of emotion at the mention of their headmistress. She was concerned for Queller, but mostly alarmed at the idea of her years of carefully shaping her image in the headmistress's eyes going to waste. What if the headmistress's replacement was one of those horrible reforming types who failed to pay Blair the respect she was due as Constance Billard's shining star? Blair wasn't bothered by the decidedly selfish direction of her thoughts, she merely regarded Chuck for a long moment in silence before taking a generous gulp of the drink.

"It's strange..." she began to muse aloud, her voice taking on a faraway quality that was a dead giveaway she was less than completely sober. "Not knowing things, I mean." She rested her now half-empty glass on her knee, adjusting her position so that she faced Chuck fully. "I don't like it."

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[SORRY for the long delay!! I'm all moved now, though!]

thirdbasebass
2012-08-27 04:29 am UTC (link)

It was stupid, but Chuck actually felt a larger swell of pride than he really should've from that ridiculous little nod. Blair was a lot like a cat, he'd noticed - so aloof and prickly that any time she deigned to show you some degree of kindness or gratitude you felt like the gesture was more generous than it actually was. Blair was a master of this kind of persona, and in moments like this, the depths of Chuck's admiration for it was clear. Like him, she had a role to play, and he'd long believed that hers was much, much harder to maintain. At least as the villain and playboy he was expected to screw up. Blair, on the other hand, was essentially expected not to. Sometimes, him his more forgiving moments, Chuck reflected on this. It was a hard cross to bear, even if it was one that she more or less inflicted on herself. Still, you had to admire her for carrying on with it, despite everything.

"I don't like it either," Chuck responded, a little surprised by the amount of honesty that was escaping his lips tonight. He blamed the alcohol, of course, but really it was more than that. He and Blair had been through something really traumatic, the kind of thing that bonded war buddies together. For the first time, he was starting to realize the depth of how much he trusted her, how much he actually didn't mind if she knew the truth.

And that was really scary.

After a beat, Chuck took a few more bites of dinner and said, "Don't worry though. I'm sure my father will sort it out. If things get really bad I'm sure he can airlift us or something."

Just as the words left his lips, the television flickered, filled with static, and then went white, a high-pitched, whiny buzz erupting from the speakers. Chuck frowned, tried to flip the channel (with no success) and then gave up and turned off the screen. "That's weird," he said, his brow furrowed with worry. Grabbing the phone from its receiver, he had a clipped conversation with his favorite concierge, then turned to Blair. "Apparently all the TVs are down temporarily. I'm sure it'll be fixed soon."

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Re: [SORRY for the long delay!! I'm all moved now, though!]

queenlyb
2012-08-31 01:40 am UTC (link)

Blair's tense shoulders relaxed slightly at Chuck's mention of his father. If anyone was ruthless enough and rich enough to deal with the chaos that had erupted in New York, it was Bart Bass. New money or not, he was nothing if not grimly competent.

She gave Chuck a strained smile, taking another fortifying sip from her glass when the television began emitting that awful buzzing. Wincing, Blair scooted further back against the cushions, trying in vain to escape the awful sound. Only when Chuck had turned it off, did she manage to look away from the suddenly white screen. Listening intently to Chuck's side of the conversation, Blair kept steadily drinking for wont of anything else to do. There were no minions to corral or boyfriends to charm. There was only Chuck and the now dead screen. It wasn't as if the television were their only link to the outside world, the Palace was hardly a remote island. But with no phone and now no televised news, Blair couldn't help but feel strangely disconnected. Hadn't she just been complaining about being in the dark? It felt now like she had been tempting fate.

"What a shame," she said with a half-hearted smile, trying not to reveal just how freaked out she was by this development. "I was planning on inflicting wedding shows on you all night. Now how are we going to pass the time?"

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thirdbasebass
2012-09-01 07:35 pm UTC (link)

Chuck's already-knotted stomach squeezed tighter - all of the uncertainty (and maybe the alcohol) was starting to make him nauseous. The whole point of coming here was that it was supposed to be a safe place, but the fact that even the Palace could be affected by things like blackouts and lack of cell service was almost too terrifying to contemplate. All he wanted was his safe haven, that special place where everything was taken care of for him, as if by magic. Was that too much for a boy billionaire to ask?

Tonight, apparently it was.

Chuck grimaced at Blair's attempt to get under his skin and forced himself to continue playing the part he was born for. If he just acted as if everything was all right and nothing had changed, everything would be normal. Yes.

"You bitch," he said, shaking his head at her, although his tone contained more amusement than venom. He smirked. "I've got a couple of ideas." He held her gaze just long enough to make her squirm a little, then leaned forward, his face slowly approaching hers...

...and then leaning past it so he could reach into a drawer in the coffee table between them, so he could pull out a fresh deck of cards. He gave Blair a sly grin. "Can the lady play poker?"

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queenlyb
2012-09-06 03:54 am UTC (link)

Blair was busy inspecting her hair for split ends, her manicure for snags, trying to do anything to distract herself from the now darkened screen. Chuck's words once again brought her back to herself, but before she could smirk at the well deserved appellation, she found herself instead oddly transfixed by his unwavering gaze. Her mouth parted slightly as he leaned forward, her mind instantly conjuring up that brief, heated moment in the kitchen that they had shared. She held his gaze uncertainly, unable to budge a muscle or determine whether it was anticipation or panic that rendered her momentarily frozen.

Her lips promptly pressed together in disapproval as he slid past her to the coffee table. What was wrong with her? When did she suddenly start behaving like petrified prey before Chuck? She wasn't one of his random sluts or weak-willed conquests, she was his friend, or as close to a friend as Chuck was likely to have outside of Nate.

"Ugh," she announced in disgust, trying to hide her self-conscious flush at the direction her thoughts had momentarily taken. Basshole. "Of course I can. As long as you're not proposing strip poker, I'm game."

"What are the stakes?" she asked, making a grab for the cards in his hand. She didn't trust him to shuffle properly or not to cheat.

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