Summary: Arguably AU. There had been a plan. His role was supposed to be that of the stupid best man. Blair and Chuck. Oneshot.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I like to play with them.
A/N: I honestly don't have much to say. This is my first time writing anything for the Gossip Girl fandom, though. So feedback would really be appreciated.
There had been a plan. Finish high school, get engaged, go to college, marry Nate, have kids, grow old together. Simple. Clean cut. Obvious.
So much for that.
Blair wants to blame Serena, because if her best friend hadn't slept with Nate in the first place then everything would have been fine. Blair wants to blame Nate for being a stupid high school boy with hormones. Blair wants to blame a lot of people that have nothing to do with anything, but Blair is tired of lying to herself.
She stretches her arms above her head, fanning her fingers out and sighing at the pull of her muscles. A frown crosses her features briefly when she feels the soreness in her body, and then the corners of her mouth tilt in the opposite direction when she recalls where she is and why she can feel her muscles sobbing in protest as she moves.
Her mouth straightens into a neutral expression next, because she refuses to be happy about this arrangement. Her life is in shambles and Chuck is taking advantage of her. Rolling onto her side, she cracks an eye open and bites the inside of her lip when she notices how empty the big, comfortable bed is.
Light slants through the windows and highlights the rumpled sheets next to her in rays of white and pale yellow, accentuating the fact that she is by herself in a bed that isn't hers, and she huffs impatiently as she sits up and scans the floor for her clothes.
Three seconds later, the bathroom door opens and her host walks into the room.
Chuck smirks when he notices that she is awake and she has the overwhelming urge to throw up. Her life has become even more of a cliché than it was before her breakup with Nate. Her stomach flips uncomfortably, though the sensation isn't entirely unpleasant, and that makes her feel even worse.
Blair Waldorf is sleeping with Chuck Bass. Chuck, the boy who used to pull her pigtails and tell her boyfriend she had cooties because he was jealous, even at the age of ten. She sighs heavily. No matter how many times she repeats the statement in her mind, it never gets any less weird.
"Do you know what happened to my dress?"
The smirk widens. Blair clenches her fist around the edge of the quilt, keeping the blanket firmly wrapped around her torso with the other hand. "I believe you threw it over there," he gestures vaguely to the chair in the corner of the room, "after you forced me to unzip it for you."
"Cute," she replies sarcastically.
"Someone's a bit snappy this morning…" He crawls onto the bed behind her and she turns her head just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. "Didn't get enough beauty sleep last night?"
She absolutely hates how quickly the mood can shift with him. More than that, though, she hates how her stomach seems to implode at the brush of his fingers on the back of her neck. He's supposed to be the one that gets all fluttery around her. A sigh gets trapped in her throat that is half frustrated, half pleased, and she can't stand the fact that she has known him for most of her life.
When they were eleven, he forced her to play freeze tag with him and Nate and a bunch of kids she didn't like, and he was always the one to tag her. It took her a while to get the hang of the game. Once she did, they spent every round avoiding each other like the plague.
"Like I'm going to feed your ego. It's enormous enough as it is," she replies. Chuck laughs quietly, his breath ghosting across her skin, and Blair closes her eyes tightly. Why couldn't she still believe in cooties? "Now, if you would be so kind as to stop mauling me, I'd like to go home," she continues, abruptly pulling away from him and fluently wrapping the comfort around her as she stands.
"Wow. Been practicing that, have you?"
The blush fills her cheeks before she can calm it, and as she spots the slinky black material of her dress curled up on the floor, she bites the inside of her cheek until the heat crawls back down her neck and hides from view. As she crouches down to retrieve her clothing, Blair risks a glance back at the bed.
Chuck remains sitting on the edge of the bed, fingering the sheet absent-mindedly, that goddamn self-satisfied smirk telling her that he saw the redness in her cheeks. Dammit.
"Girl's gotta know how to hide from prying eyes, right?" she responds belatedly, adding to her embarrassment. She should be more on top of this than she is. Chuck Bass has never managed to beat her in a battle, verbal or non, and she refuses to let the morning after their — she groans silently — fifth time together change the statistics.
"Of course. Modesty is imperative," he says calmly. Blair freezes on the spot, recalling with entirely too much clarity just how little regard she has given to that cardinal rule of being a girl in the past week.
She clenches her jaw and glares at him harshly, managing to regain enough of her composure to participate in a brief staring contest before she retreats into the relative safety of the bathroom.
Five minutes later, she realizes she has no idea where her panties ended up last night, and she inhales sharply as she looks in the mirror. There isn't anything different about her appearance. Her hair is down, her dress is zipped, her eyes are bright.
She is different, though. Everything is different. There is no ring on her finger and her virginity belongs to Nate's best friend, which is all too fitting, considering Nate's first time. Blair runs a hand through her hair and stands up straight, exhaling slowly through her nose.
Chuck's role in her life was supposed to be that of the stupid best man, and now, suddenly, he's the lover but not the love. It's frustrating. And irritating. And unexpected.
And she really is tired of lying to herself.
With a smile, she takes another deep breath and reaches behind her for the doorknob, using her other hand to tug at the zipper on the back of her dress.
It's about damn time something exciting happened to Blair instead of Serena.