You're The Only One Who…

Summary: Just a collection of times that Blair drunk dialed Chuck. I don't know how many there will be—but a minimum of three. Inspired by his infamous line in 'Woman on the Verge.' The first one takes place after the Pilot.
Author's Note: I don't own Gossip Girl, I'm just trying to get it out of my system before school starts and all I will really have time to do is watch the episodes. The title is from Maria Mena's "You're The Only One," and each chapter will be a lyric from there as well.

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holds my hair back when i'm drunk and get sick

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Blair stared after Nate's retreating back and felt all the hopes she had been carefully building up since their sushi lunch come crashing down around her. He had not spoken a single word to her since his supposed "walk"—he had just spent the rest of the Kiss on the Lips party drinking in a corner, probably crying on the inside about the loss of his beautiful blonde goddess. And now he was just going to leave, without even saying goodbye. Why? Because he was a coward.

She rolled her eyes and held back the overwhelming desire to purge. She was not going to let him and his pathetic obsession get the best of her—not this time. It's not like it was his fault, really. Who wasn't completely and totally enamored of Serena fucking van der Woodsen? Besides, if she did end up vomiting tonight, she was damn well going to make sure it was due to the fact that she had drunk her weight in alcohol, not because her boyfriend was a cheating stoner and her ex-best friend was a lying whore.

It was definitely time to get the party started.


Chuck was startled from his heavy make-out session with Amber Brown (even if Jenny Humphrey wasn't interested, there was always some girl who couldn't resist the attentions of Chuck Bass) by the sound of his phone ringing.

Normally, he wouldn't pick up—because no phone conversation could be more pleasurable than what was already available in the flesh—but Meredith Brooks singing the chorus to "Bitch" clearly indicated that the caller was Blair Waldorf. She had chosen the ring tone herself, on one of those rare occasions that she felt in the mood for some amusing self-deprecation.

He extracted himself from Amber's arms, leaving her whimpering like a wounded puppy, and lazily picked up the phone. Even if Blair couldn't see him, he wanted to make sure he seemed as uninterested as possible. It wouldn't do for Blair to ever know he wanted to talk to her. After all, she only ever called if she needed help planning something devious, and how could he help it if her evil schemes made the bitchy little girl inside of him squeal with joy?

"Waldorf. I was hoping you'd call," he drawled into the phone, making sure he sounded as lecherous as possible. He loved making her angry, because he knew she was squirming on the inside even if she was scoffing on the outside.

Amber made a noise of protest, but Chuck put a hand up to silence her. She sulked on the corner of the bed, and started putting her shirt back on to indicate her annoyance, but he couldn't have cared less.

Blair sighed into the phone as she tried to pick herself up off the floor. Why did Chuck always have to pick up when she called? This was so the wrong number to dial for anything other than social destruction, but she couldn't stop herself from asking him the same question she had been repeating to herself all night long.

"Why doesn't Nate love me?" She whispered into the phone, hating the way her voice sounded so small and broken. It was a good thing she had plenty of blackmail against Chuck, because otherwise he would totally use moments like these to humiliate her in front of everyone.

Chuck felt his face pale upon hearing her. Her words were slightly slurred, and she was speaking with more of a lilt than normal. Was she…drunk? He would have laughed at her if it weren't for the amount of pain in her voice.

He hated having to see Blair like this—it ruined his image of her as his perfect, unfeeling counterpart. She was supposed to be his partner in all things cruel and manipulative, and nothing else. But when he heard her sound so vulnerable and alone, it caused his cold heart to warm up just a little, which was not a sensation he appreciated in the least. It also made him want to do things for Blair that he didn't think Nate would appreciate in the least. Not that Nate should be allowed to have any rights over Blair at this point, the traitorous voice in his head spoke up.

Quickly remembering that her question was definitely not one you could just leave unanswered, he grabbed Amber roughly by the arm and ushered her out of the room. Recollecting his manners, he pleasantly mouthed 'I'll call you' before shutting the door and seating himself on the couch to conjure up an appropriate response for Blair. He would have liked to yell, 'Because he can't stop thinking about fucking Serena!' But he was pretty sure that, in this particular case, blunt honesty was not the best policy.

"Nate does love you," he insisted in a tired voice. He hated lying. "He's just going through some daddy issues right now. Teenage angst, rebellion, you know the drill. And I guess you get to experience some of the side effects."

Blair felt sick. Her head was spinning, and she couldn't even feel her hands. She probably should have stopped after the fifth Bellini, but then she might not have agreed to that table dance with Kati. And that had been pretty fun. She didn't have nearly enough fun, which was probably why Nate was so bored by her in the first place.

She was having a difficult time concentrating on Chuck's words. Nothing really made sense other than his assurance of Nate's love. Maybe she lived too much in her old romantic comedies, but the one thing she knew was this: no matter what, if you loved someone, you wouldn't treat them the way she was being treated.

"I try so hard," she began, doing her best to keep from dissolving into tears. Chuck had yet to ever see her cry, and she wanted to keep it that way. "And he doesn't even want me. What's wrong with me? What do I need to do?"

This was ridiculous. Chuck could already feel his blood boiling. He already knew Nate apparently needed Viagra to even contemplate sex with Blair, but the fact that she knew it, too, made him hate his best friend a little more than he'd like to admit. No matter how soulless people liked to say Chuck Bass was, one thing he would never do was make a woman feel unwanted. Especially not one like Blair Waldorf.

Honestly, he couldn't really see the appeal of Serena for anyone, let alone anyone who already had Blair. Sure, he wanted to sleep with her, simply because the fact that she had rejected him was alluring in and of itself. But aside from that, there was absolutely nothing special about her. She was used and worn-out, and he could see nothing in her that would make someone want to come back for seconds.

Nate was obviously a moron. Why in the world would he want to buy an outdated version of a high school princess at market price, when he could have a new one in perfect condition for free? Of course, no woman was ever going to hold Chuck down, but he had to admit there was something strangely pleasing about the thought of a girl who was completely pure, made just for him, that no one else had or could touch. How could Nate not be turned on by the mere idea of Blair waiting for him in her bedroom, probably dressed in the most classic lingerie she could find? It was mind-blowing.

"There's nothing you need to do, Waldorf. Stop being stupid," he replied firmly, almost harshly, into the phone. "You are most beautiful girl I've ever had the pleasure of seeing, and if Nate doesn't realize that, it's because he's either blind or gay." He thought it best to make light of the situation, so he added, "Come to think of it, I have noticed him checking me out in the mornings…."

Blair didn't feel coherent enough to even chuckle at the joke, but she somehow found herself laughing like a hyena. This was not at all attractive. Not that she cared about being attractive around Chuck, obviously. She heard Chuck's low, soothing laughter accompany her own and this made her break out into even more giggles. He made everything sound so sexual, it was kind of insane.

"But Chuck… You saying I'm beautiful means absolutely nothing, now, does it?"

Chuck was taken aback by this accusation. "Exactly what are you implying?"

She hiccupped. "You would bang anything with legs…so you're basically just saying, 'Hey, Blair. You're a female.'"

"Blair," he chided, shaking his head at her naïveté. "I said you were beautiful, not bang-able. There is a distinction. Of course, you are both," he added, in case she took his previous statement as an insult. "But do you honestly think I go around calling every girl I happen to pleasure 'beautiful?'"

Blair smiled, satisfied, and leaned back against the wall of the bathroom. "I hope not. Some of them are downright hideous." He chuckled his agreement, and she started to feel the full weight of his compliment. Chuck Bass had certainly seen more than his fair share of women, and if he counted her among the most attractive… Well, that had to mean something, didn't it?

The fact that she was talking on the phone with Chuck while trying to stop herself from puking on the bathroom floor made her feel suddenly very dirty. And unpopular. What the hell was wrong with her?

"Chuck…" she whined, more to herself than to him. "Why are you the only person who cares about me?"

He furrowed his brows. He did not like this word 'care.' He only cared about three things, and Blair Waldorf was certainly not counted among them. "Sometimes I like to pretend I'm your friend," he replied nonchalantly.

She snorted, knowing he was actually admitting he was her friend. "Not to mention, you're also the biggest pig in all of New York City." She sighed again, too entranced in her own self-pity to worry about wounding his pride with either insults or mushy, heartfelt statements. "What does it say about me that you're, like, my only real friend?"

"It says that you have very good taste," Chuck answered with a smirk, trying his best not to be fazed by the notion that he was any girl's 'real friend.'

Without even realizing it, her thoughts drifted back to Serena and she bit her lip hard to keep a sob in. She could not, however, keep the word vomit from spewing forth. "I feel so lonely…" she complained, wincing as soon as her statement reverberated in her eardrums. What was she saying?

Chuck smiled deviously, thinking how much she was probably regretting those words right about now. But he wouldn't be Chuck Bass if he didn't run with it, now would he? "Do you want me to come over, Waldorf? Keep you company in your loneliness, maybe make you feel a little more beautiful…" You could practically see him raising his eyebrows seductively through the phone.

Blair gritted her teeth and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Well, she had that coming, she guessed. The worst part was that she really did want him to come. She must have a fever. "You probably have some whore in your bed that you should be attending to," she said, waving him off with the impatience in her voice. "I don't want you to keep her waiting on my account."

"No, actually. I'm all yours tonight."

Blair let out a little scoff of disbelief. "You've got to be kidding be. I saw you leave…" It took her a little moment to remember her train of thought, but she soon recalled a flash of bright red hair and a simpering smile. "…with that bitch from the sophomore class, Candice what's-her-face. And I thought Chuck Bass always followed through."

Chuck felt himself redden a little. He hated getting caught. "If you knew I was with a girl, why the hell did you call in the first place?" He felt slightly bad for sounding so bitter, but seriously, what a cock-blocking bitch.

"I didn't expect you to answer," she snapped defensively, pissed that she had even for a moment considered him her friend. "You think I wanted to have this embarrassing conversation with you? That I actually like it when you humiliate me? God!"

Chuck was stumped for about half a second. This was the closest he had ever come to getting into an actual fight with Blair. Usually they were of one mind, trading playful barbs while all their real cattiness was directed at an unworthy third party. He felt the need to say something placating, so he put on his best seductive voice (which sounded a lot like his normal voice), and replied, "Well, I answered because I was secretly hoping you were finally going to let me break you in for dear Nathaniel."

"Ugh." Blair pretended to gag, which ironically made her stop feeling like she actually wanted to gag.

"There are quite a few things I could teach you, which I'm sure he'd love—"

"Chuck!" Blair gasped and hiccupped once more, less surprised by his perversion than by how appealing she found it at the moment. Oh, God, she was way too drunk. Instead of wanting to scream, 'You're disgusting,' she was forcing herself not to scream, "Don't tempt me."

Chuck grinned. He loved hearing her say his name in that offended, surprised tone of voice—so much so that it was making him a little uncomfortable. He wanted to keep teasing her, see how far he could push the envelope with her in this condition, but something told him that the time for games had come to an end. Blair was clearly in an unstable frame of mind right now if she was calling him for relationship advice, and it was his sort-of-friendly duty to make sure she got home safe.

"In all seriousness, Waldorf. Are you still at the party? Don't move, I'll pick you up in ten."