So, I was rewatching Season 1 recently, and realised how many times Chuck an Blair converse with one another via mobile (cell phone). Not to mention the fact that neither are quite the snobs' people think they are when it comes to modes of transportation. Bus ride in the Pilot? Cab ride alone and/or with Serena? Don't worry; I'll touch bases on those ;)
This is just a fun wee one-shot that came of my over-analytical mind accompanied by my imagination :)
Hope you like…
Title: You Rang?
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.
A/N: No spoilers, but let's pretend (HOPE!) this happens sometime in Season 2 ;)
Summary: He was all about the transportation; she was all about the communication. It didn't always mix well, but it worked. They worked. CB.
"Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves."
"Everything becomes a little different as soon as it is spoken out loud."
When her mother handed her her first cell phone at the age of eight, he was her first call.
Well, after she'd dialled Serena's number and all but squealed down the line at her; he was her first call.
When he first rode in a limo at the age of ten, she was his first partner.
Well, when his parents had finally let him ride in it without their accompaniment; she was his first partner.
"Waldorf," he returned.
"And what, pray tell, is the cause of tonight's late-night call?" he asked, the amused tone playing off every word, his smirk cutting into the receiver; well aware that she'd been "out with the girls" that evening and was obviously now drunk-dialling.
"Can I have a lift home?" she asked, breathlessly.
He frowned, "Why?"
She shrugged, and then realized she hadn't actually answered and that he couldn't, in fact, see her when the loud sound of, "Waldorf?" began ringing in her ears.
"Because I want you to pick me up," she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Is there a problem with that?" she questioned, when silence was heard from his end; and he briefly wondered if she was sober.
He smirked, "Not at all."
"Good," she replied, a smile falling over her lips. "I'm glad."
She never slurred her words, even when passed the point of mildly intoxicated; but she spoke them with a looser tone, at least to him, as if she didn't need to carve every word before it passed her lips; she just… let it.
He turned up fifteen minutes later, and though she tried to act nonchalant about his presence and the fact that it was him who was effectively rescuing her; she nearly tripped as she entered the limo, and when he put his hand out to save her, she grabbed hold of it, and didn't let go.
They walked like this, hand in hand, into her building: up the spiralling staircase to her bedroom like he was leading his lady to her presentation at the court, and then into her bedroom.
When she wilted on the mattress, he smiled and removed her shoes, pulling the comforter over her petite frame, and tucking her in.
"One question: why wasn't your call directed to Nate?" he queried, unable to resist, but lips pursed as he awaited his answer. "After all, isn't Prince Charming supposed to provide the transportation?"
"I've always liked your limo," she simply replied; her voice wistful, and her eyes in a far away place.
"And it's our thing," she added a moment later, the corners of her eyes softening and something close to nostalgia flittering by: he could hear the contented sigh pass her lips before she finally succumbed to exhaustion, and fell into a deep sleep.
"Always a pleasure, Waldorf," he awarded her, bowing lightly as he bid her goodnight from her doorway.
"And point to note: you are an adorable drunk," he murmured, a light chuckle escaping from his lips before he felt them curve upwards as he watched her chest rise and fall slowly, a contended smile splayed across her lips, and her phone held tightly within her small grasp; before he shut the door quietly and went back to his transportation.
He'd travelled by bus a few times. It was traumatic, and he'd rather pretend that part of his life never happened: it was when Nate was in his 'man of the people' phase. He was probably testing the waters before his little dance across the bridge. Go figure. Freak.
She somehow managed to scrape by with only a few cab rides. Though he found these equally as revolting. After all, people from Brooklyn used those things.
Walking was… an acceptable compromise. As long as it wasn't too far, and it had a purpose. Like he was accompanying her to Tiffany's from Bendel's, or she was going from the limo to the front entrance of Victrola: important things like that.
Because from the moment she kissed him during their senior year, he promised himself she would travel in nothing but luxury. Even if it did mean having to put up with her drunken ramblings at four in the morning after he'd sent the limo to collect her, while he was trying to gain a few precious hours sleep before an important meeting with Bart in the early Business hours. He supposed it was his fault for insisting on the two of them mingling.
"When are you going to ask me to marry you?"
He laughed at the greeting, and responded simply with, "Well, good morning to you too, Waldorf."
"Well?" she merely prompted. "When are you going to ask me?"
"I wasn't aware I was going to," he replied, smirking even though she couldn't see him: he knew she'd hear it in his words, or so she claimed to be able to at least anyway.
"Bass!" she whined. "It's been seven years already, don't you think you've made me wait long enough?"
He coughed, "Well…"
"Besides, we both know your father adores me, so he'll wholeheartedly agree; and my own father loves me, so…" she trailed off.
"I don't see what the problem is here, Bass," she huffed. "I'm trying to make an honest man out of you – don't you think I've earned it after putting up with you since our Senior Year?"
He scoffed at this, and merely responded, "Some might like to say I have been the one to put up with you, my dear."
"Has anyone ever told you how demanding you are?" he asked, that teasing lilt in his voice.
"Ask me by lunchtime or I'll never ride in your limo with you again," she merely replied.
They both knew what the underlying meaning in her words was: no limo-sex, ever again. And she smirked when she heard his involuntary intake of breath: she knew that would work.
Naturally, he did nothing of the sort, however.
Instead, he waited till that evening when she was leaving work.
He stood outside her office building, leaning against the side of his limo, a sign held languidly in his grasp.
She was speaking rapidly into her cell, not paying any attention to anything else; but she stopped short when she saw. Saw him standing there: head half bowed, eyes raised to meet hers, loose smirk playing across his lips, that flimsy piece of card presented in hand.
A smile crept up her face and spread across her lips as she read: "Marry me."
She raised an eyebrow at him, and stepped purposefully towards him, heels clicking decisively as she did so.
"Bit presumptuous, no?" she commented, amused.
"Well, it has been seven years, after all," he quipped in return. "About time we made it official, wouldn't you agree?"
Her only response was to throw her arms around his neck, and kiss him with everything she had: colliding solidly with his heart in the process.
"Chuck!" she all but screamed at him. "I am not giving birth to my child in the back of a moving vehicle!"
"Well, if you stopped yelling at me and got off the phone, maybe you could actually inform the driver of your destination. i.e. A hospital!" he growled back.
"But that's what you're supposed to be for!" she practically whined down the line.
He sighed, running a weary hand over his face, as he instructed, "Stay on the line, and I'll have someone patch me through to your driver."
"Thank you," she breathed out.
"I really do love you, you know," she said then, a contented smile splayed across her tired face.
"I know," he replied easily. "I love you too."
She nodded, a satisfying look displayed on her features, as she leaned back against the cool leather of the limo seating.
And then suddenly her resolve was shattered as pain ripped through her very core.
"Ok, I retract that statement, completely. I hate you," she gritted out. "I really, and truly hate you."
"Oh, God – I'm dying!" she tore out.
" – Blair?" he choked out, the worry etched into his features playing havoc with his vocal cords.
The limo came to a sudden halt and she panted heavily, hands resting over her swollen stomach, as a thin line of sweat trickled down from her hairline.
"And if that driver does not get out of his seat this instant and open this goddamn door to reveal a hospital, I may just castrate you," she ground out then.
Followed closely by, "No way in Hell am I letting you impregnate me again, Bass!"
She said that the next two times as well; of course third time's a charm. Literally.
Audrey Elizabeth Bass came first, with Julian Samuel Bass born two years later, followed by the triplets: Alexander 'Alexi' Oliver, Nicholas 'Nicky' Andrew, and Madeleine 'Maddie' Victoria Bass, thirteen years after that; on the Third of March 2033.
They pondered the likelihood of the Devil's calling actually encompassing the number 3 instead.
Over the years she tried to make him get rid of the limo many times; namely after she'd returned from a routine check-up to find herself once again "inseminated by his evil spawn." All that changed, however, was that he had the interior re-upholstered, and their family welcomed another addition, or three.
In turn, he tried to make her give up the incessant phone-calls; most notably when she'd found herself to be "with child – a perfect, and amazing, and completely loved and equally wanted child, or children." All that changed, however, was that she called him while she was with the doctor, and made them feel the brunt of her… overwhelming emotions, together; and then nine months later, she repeated the process all over again when she delivered said child, or multiples.
"It's official," she said, by way of greeting on the morning of her forty-fifth birthday.
"What is?" he asked instinctively.
"Your children have ruined my figure," she told him, sighing dramatically.
He smirked at this, chuckling lightly, "I'll pick you up in ten."
And when he rolled up in his limo exactly ten minutes later, she was standing in the middle of Fifth Avenue for all to admire.
The window rolled down, and his face appeared before her; drinking in the sight of her.
"Ravishing, as always," he told her quite simply.
She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugged at her lips.
"Move over," she merely said, giving him a small shove as she stepped inside.
As soon as she'd entered, his phone started ringing.
He heaved a deep sigh, and answered it automatically.
She grinned from her place beside him, twirling round to face him; cell in hand.
"I love you, Chuck Bass," she whispered, their eyes connecting in tune with each breath.
"I love you too, Blair Bass," he murmured.
And as their lips fused in a fire that had long since sustained the years; their cell phones simultaneously dropped to the leather and the tires rolled beneath them.
Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass were in love: even after seven-and-a-half years of dating; twenty-one years of marriage; five exhausting, though phenomenal, children; and sharing one of the most hectic lifestyles ever created. And all it took to seal the deal was a limo ride and a phone call.
This was just a bit of fun that popped into my head, and I thought I'd try and make something of it.
Surprisingly, the titles and name's of the children were the hardest parts to come up with – and my biggest delay in posting. Apologies for the rubbish title, but nothing was coming to me, and it was beyond frustrating! If I come up with something better, I'll change it and put a 'formally known as' in the summary ;)
Hope all you Statesiders enjoy the Season Premiere tonight; us less-fortunate beings will have to contend with a later viewing ;)
Hopefully this might tide some of the B/C followers over till then :)
Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think – it means a lot!