A/N: Hello! My first Chuck/Blair fanfic because I'm sad there hasn't been any Chuck Blair in the last few episodes :( We need them together come on writers! Although I'm not sure if this is going to be a terribly happy story yet, hmmm, I'll try my best though!
I know I'm crap because I havn't even updated Scarred and here I am starting a new fic, don't worry though I havn't abandoned it, I'm just having a bit of trouble with the next chapter, I'm half way there though so it won't be too long now!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, if I did I'd be rich, I wish!
He had always believed that the Queen B was out of his league. Come on, Blair Waldorf, she was perfection, sans fault, sans blemish. True Chuck Bass' idea of perfection veered a little further form that of the average man – a woman whose idea of a past time was to eliminate her rivals – but this was his little writing excursion, was it not?
That's what he had thought of Blair until he realised the effort that it entailed to continue her charade; the lengths to which she went to in order to remain the envy of the Upper East Side.
She had clawed her way to the top and now she was hanging on by those perfectly manicured fingernails – French manicure of course, none of that colour polish nonsense for his Blair.
He knew her better than anyone, or so he liked to believe. Better even than the perpetually confused Nathaniel Archibald, boyfriend since Blair had claimed him as her knight in shining armour at the tender age of six. Huh, as if Nate could decipher every one of her expressions as Chuck was able to without even blinking. Not likely.
No, it was only Chuck who recognised that quizzical tilt to her head when she was furiously planning the social destruction of someone quite unfortunate. It was he, who could always point out that tiny smirk on her ruby red lips, (which incidentally made him think of that mouth pursed while doing other unspeakable things), when she had succeeded in the implementation of the above. Yet, he could equally catch the almost unnoticeable trembling of those same lips as a sure sign she had been passed over in favour of Serena van der Woodsen once again.
He didn't really think he could sum up Blair in so small a space; she was just too much in character even if she came in such a tiny little package - a package with all the bits in all the right places if he could pause to add that lascivious thought. Blair was just Blair, complex with so many sides to her that it was a wonder he could keep up, then again come to think of it, he had never received any complaints about his stamina. Perhaps that was it, perhaps he was the only one who had seen Blair in every state possible, feeling every emotion possible, he had certainly been the cause of one or two of those and was quite proud of it too.
It was to him she turned to in all situations.
It was he who knew, quite intimately, Blair Waldorf.
The seven sides of Blair Waldorf to be exact (according to Chuck Bass, of course).
A/N: So what do we think, I actually quite like this! Please review and let me know what you think!