A/N: So I so didn't mean to do another one of these, but oh well. Anyway, I just heard this song and forgot how awesome it was and this just sort of wrote itself. Its not quite as dramatic and awesomeas the song, but I did my best.

Summary: She always felt dirty and delicious and sweet and horrible and wonderful and she needed him exactly like he needed her.

Disclaimer: Song "Uninvited" is by Alanis Morisette. Characters and universe are GG.


Like anyone would be
I am flattered by your fascination with me

Their dance had started at such an early age that she really couldn't remember what life would be like without it. Now he moved with that fluid grace that he had retained in his early teens. She thought she had lost him for a moment before everything got wholly more complicated.

Now it was truly complicated. She couldn't remember what it was like to not watch Chuck Bass's eyes roam all over her with something that she could never name.

Never.

She had a boyfriend and that devilchild had his tramps and none of it made any sense. Because no one did that. No one looked at her in that manner. Not even Nate. No one looked at her as though she was some mystery that had to be pulled apart and analyzed for its meaning.

Even when he returned to that apathetic and powerful person she remembered loving, it didn't make sense. One moment he was in a whirlwind of an identity crisis and now he was here.

Now he was looking at her.

The way he used to.

She felt like that teenager that would wait in bedrooms with lingerie for him to appear and it wasn't right. The way he was looked at now was with detestation, or for those who truly knew him, tolerance.

Except her.

"I missed you, princess."

"I was standing right here," she reminded him coarsely. He laughed and her skin prickled. He was looking at her and laughing at the same time.

"But I wasn't," he said.

"Must have been nice," she remarked.

"Not really," he answered. "More like confusing. Now more than ever."

"How so?" she asked.

She wished she hadn't because he was looking in that manner again.

"Confusing like I don't know the difference between butterflies and nausea," he said. "New. And confusing."

"Nothing has changed," Blair said. His face reflected understanding that she wasn't just talking about where he had been. Things still couldn't be that easy between them.

"You're right," Chuck answered. "You're still as fascinating as ever. The cool exterior. The fire below."

"Things aren't like they used to be."

"Right," he answered. "But they can be just as simple."

"They're not."

"I feel the same," Chuck said, "the way I also have. And I know you do to."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Blair said.

"We'll see."

Like any hot-blooded woman
I have simply wanted an object to crave

Being resorted to a hormonal teenager was not her finest hour to be sure. All it took was lewd innuendo and his flattery and here she was with him. On the stairwell of the hotel with their tongues down each other's throats.

"I knew it."

His smug ego wasn't as flattering as the way he looked at her. Blair pushed him so hard he almost stumbled down the steps.

"Careful," he mocked. "A bystander would think that you'd want to kill me."

"A bystander can take a hint," Blair snapped.

"I don't know if your powers of recollection have failed you, but you weren't exactly resistant."

Blair busied herself with straightening her outfit, ignoring his presence. He still made that sound of amusement at the back of his throat.

"I guess things haven't changed as much as you thought," he said. "Or rather, you haven't changed. Which I might add, doesn't exactly do anything to turn me off."

"I really don't care what turns you on or off," Blair reacted.

"Really?" he asked. "You don't care if it turns me on that you're still that intriguing 17 year old who still gets hot and bothered over a necklace enough to do it with me on a stranger's bed."

"I don't," Blair answered rigidly.

"Why is it that I don't believe you?"

"Maybe you should," she said. "Maybe you should believe the reason why you got me so hot and bothered."

"Because we're perfect."

"Wrong."

"Because you love that I only get that way with you," he answered with self assurance. "The way that I'm with you right now-"

"Well I don't feel the same way," Blair replied coolly.

"You're lying," he said in that dark way he did when he was trying to convince himself.

"You sure?" she asked. "I was a hormonal teenager girl, Bass. I just wanted someone to give me what I needed. You were just there. Nate wasn't."

He smirked. "I am sure."

"What?"

"I am sure that you're lying," he said. "You don't really get it. That being around you turns me into that 16 year old kid that can't reconcile loyalty to his best friend and laying his best friend's girl."

"We broke up."

"It was a good thing, too," Chuck said. "Then maybe Nathaniel never would have forgiven me. Because it's hard to convince myself that my actions would have been any different."

"I don't want to see you anymore, Chuck," Blair said curtly, passing him on the stairwell. He caught her arm on the way down, fastening her to his side so he could whisper that way in her ear.

"If that were true, you would have walked out the second you saw me tonight," he told her. "Instead, you let me drag you to a stairwell during one of your mother's parties."

Blair didn't really have a retort for that as she freed herself from him.

But you, you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

"Where have you been?"

Eleanor's irate tone cut through the din as she felt manicured nails dig into the flesh of her elbow. Blair was pulled to the corner of the party, feeling her mother's wrath radiating off of her in waves.

"I'm sorry I abandoned your party, Mother," Blair said blandly. "I had something more pressing to take care of-"

"Like Chuck Bass?" Eleanor demanded. "I heard he was back in town, though that was unnecessary considering I saw him interlope at this medium."

"Mother," Blair said, "don't pretend like Chuck Bass at your party isn't good publicity."

"Chuck Bass is a lecher," Eleanor retorted. "It's a bad reputation which encourages bad publicity."

"Any publicity is good publicity," Blair said.

"Don't take me for a fool, Blair," Eleanor said.

"I never-"

"You smell like Armani," Eleanor said shortly. "Or have you recently been in the habit of wearing men's cologne?"

"Of course not," Blair said in defeat, knowing that her mother was truly the master and there was no getting this past her.

"I will not have him tarnishing my eldest and only daughter's reputation," Eleanor spouted.

"So that's really what this is about?" Blair asked. "My reputation?"

"Don't pretend you're not a Waldorf, darling," Eleanor answered. "You care about it exactly as I do, if not more. So let me ask you this: do you really want to go back to that place?"

"No, Mother," Blair answered sullenly.

"That place where you wouldn't come out of your room for days?" Eleanor asked. "How he resorted you to a pathetic mess-"

"I said I didn't," Blair snapped. And she wasn't even furious with her mother. She was furious with herself because Eleanor spoke nothing but the truth.

"How you allow some nouveau riche man to treat you in such a manner, is beyond me," Eleanor said. "It wasn't how you were brought up."

"Really?" Blair asked. "Because I think I learned exactly from example. Weren't you the woman who let her husband walk all over her, using her as a mask for his orientation?"

"That's enough, Blair," Eleanor cut over her. It was one subject that was never breached in the Waldorf-Rose house. But then again, Eleanor had hurt her first.

"It's just a thing," Blair replied.

"A thing?" Eleanor repeated without understanding.

"I don't know why he's here," Blair covered.

"He's here for you, my beautiful daughter," Eleanor said, almost with fondness. She was allowed to be proud of her daughter, even if, in the end, she would never anything serious become of those two.

"Shouldn't you be the one telling me what an honor it is for the richest man in New York to be fascinated with me?" Blair asked.

"So there was some talking going along in that stairwell?" Eleanor asked.

"Not much," she replied.

Blair's spine stiffened immediately, to Eleanor's observation. Her daughter looked covertly over shoulder just to see the man in question finally descending the stairs. As if she hadn't been mortified already by her inability to look away, she watched him adjust himself before locking eyes with her with a suggestive wink.

"Blair."

Blair's attention was reverted back to her mother's solemn face.

"He's not invited."

Blair wished she could look away from him for just one second but he caught her gaze, never looking away.

Must be strangely exciting
To watch the stoic squirm
Must be somewhat hard telling
To watch them burn me shepherd

He was an evil genius. Emphasis in evil. Because he just was and she wished it wasn't such an attraction to her. Despite the fact that her mother was greatly inspired to ostracize him, not only from her party but from their community as a whole, he had finagled a seat right across from Blair.

And right next to her mother. It was horrible and humiliating and she was still hating how his eyes just merely looking upon her made her flush.

His lack of contribution to the conversation was not in any way helpful as she struggled to converse with the socialites that her mother had convinced her could give her security, though the constant mantra Waldorfs are not socialites was like a constant drum in her head.

Instead, Chuck decided to take a more direct approach.

With her mother right next to him.

"Blair, dear, are you alright?"

Ladies such as the ones from the Colony Club adored Blair with her manners and propriety. If they had only known what she had done in the dark of limos with their tinted windows.

And what she let be done to her.

Blair's knuckles had turned white from her restraint and it was noticed as Chuck tipped back another drink with mirth.

Her mother had noticed both counts with fury.

Blair was just glad that her mother wasn't privy to what was going on under the table.

"Charles," Eleanor said pointedly. "We haven't seen you out an about as of late. I heard you were abroad."

"That's correct," Chuck said, flawlessly conversing with her mother as his ankle toyed with hers under the table. She was just glad that he wasn't next to her. Where he really could do some damage.

"Amsterdam, if I recall correctly?"

"Not as scenic as Tuscany," Chuck eyed Blair, "but greatly... educational. Although the Red Light District is not what it used to be."

There was a communal gasp along the table as Blair shaded her eyes with shame, though she didn't miss the divorcées looking admiringly at Chuck. Rumors that weren't really rumors of his stamina were notorious through the Upper East Side. At least most of the attendants had the decency to look appalled while Eleanor had a look of bitter satisfaction on her face.

"I'm sure there was quite exciting entertainment while you were there," Eleanor said. "The girls here must seem dull and droll to you."

"Ordinarily, I would have to agree with you," Chuck answered. His eyes slid to Blair's again as she felt her soup spoon begin to bend in her hand. "But I find there's always an exception to the rule. If there is one thing I can say about The Upper East Side, it has spades in... fascination."

Blair had to look away, even if it alerted her mother. His foot rose higher and in her haste to jerk away, her knee hit the table, making the silverware clatter.

"Alright there, Waldorf?" Chuck asked gracefully.

"Actually," Eleanor announced, "Blair has just informed me that she has been taken slightly ill."

Blair understood the command laced in the polite sentence.

"Of course," Blair answered, rising to her feet with poise.

"I'll take her."

The phrase "seeing daggers" never made more sense to Blair until that very moment as she watched her mother glare at Chuck's declaration.

"If she's ill, she shouldn't be walking around a hotel alone," he reasoned, rising to his feet, straightening his lapel.

"She would be going home," Eleanor said tersely. "The driver can take her."

"But I happen to conveniently have a suite in this very hotel," he answered. "It would be quicker and more... healthy for her."

Eleanor would not dare cause an argument in the middle of an event, especially of this magnitude and especially with a man of stature like Chuck Bass. No matter how new his money was. She didn't have a choice as Chuck took Blair's arm and led her through the lobby.

"I can think of a few ways you can thank me."

"Thank you?" Blair snorted. "I don't know if you caught my mother's subtlety, but I'm not actually sick."

"Obviously," Chuck answered, "or I wouldn't hazard having sex with you. It's unsanitary."

"Sex?" Blair laughed out loud. "When did this happen and where was I?"

"I'm pretty sure you were being felt up by me under the table," Chuck informed her matter of factly as the reached the elevator that Blair was sure was not the direction her mother had in mind.

"If I didn't make it clear about my animosity towards you, I'm sure my mother did," Blair said.

"Yes, I did catch that," Chuck said, pressing the button for the penthouse. "But you don't have to hide behind her anymore."

"Hiding?" Blair couldn't help but repeat. "She was doing me a favor."

"My favorite part was when she was completely aware of our indiscretion under the table but couldn't do a thing about it, lest she wanted a scandal."

"You're incorrigible."

"You love it."

"I seem to remember the word 'animosity' being thrown around," Blair answered conversationally. It was at Chuck's lack of a response did Blair look over at him to see that familiar look of mischief that she dreaded. Or pretended to. True to his nature, his hand hit the Emergency Stop button and the elevator shuddered to a halt.

"What are you doing?" Blair asked guardedly.

"Why?" he grinned. "Do you want a play-by-play of what I'm going to do to you? Because that can be arranged."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Your mouth looks very inviting from this angle."

"You are not listening to a word I'm saying," Blair said in frustration.

"Not a word," he agreed. "I only do that when you demand that I take you here and now."

"That's not going to happen," Blair said in distaste.

"You are so righteous in your convictions," he murmured, "almost as though you actually believe them."

"You're starting to sound like a date rapist," Blair said dryly.

"Not just with anyone," he said, leaning her against the wall. "You're special."

"How did I receive just an honor?"

"You enticed me into falling in love with you," he answered instinctively. "A feat which no other woman has been able to accomplish."

"Not that they would want to," Blair said. "I must have been out of my mind..."

"When you asked me to tell you I loved you?" he suggested. "That's when I knew that you loved me back."

"I was insane," Blair remarked.

"I like you that way," he said. "You know, the way you get when I make you squirm. It's so exciting and fulfilling to see you that way."

"Well you're just going to have to get it somewhere else," Blair answered. "Because you're not getting it from me."

She pulled the Emergency Stop before anyone could inquire their whereabouts.

"You are greatly discouraging, Blair Waldorf."

"That was the idea."

"I didn't say that it worked."

But you you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

"I don't know why I'm up here."

"Yes you do," Chuck responded in his grand suite. "You find me unaccountably irresistable and you've come to have your way with me."

"A man can dream," Blair smiled lightly.

"Oh, it's not a dream," Chuck responded, sitting down next to her on his bed which she had found herself on when she really should have taken her mother's advise and gotten driven home. "They're memories. The ones that get me to sleep at night. Knowing that even when you're furious at me, it's just a phase."

"Maybe you're just a phase," Blair grumbled.

"Even you don't believe Eleanor's words that you're regurgitating."

"She knows," Blair said. "Did you have any wonder to how she got so fond of you to attempting to stab you in the back at formal dinners?"

"It didn't cross my mind," he said. "It didn't matter. You think too much, Waldorf."

"You don't think enough," she answered. "You don't consider the consequences."

"Neither do you," he disputed. "If you did, we wouldn't be here right now. You wouldn't have started started this whole thing."

"Oh," Blair sneered. "So this is my fault."

"And I am grateful for it every day."

"She knows what you did," Blair said.

"What I did," Chuck echoed. "Yes, I suppose I have sinned in the past."

"You suppose?" Blair asked. "You don't even feel guilty."

"Since when has that been a trait you've admired?" he asked. "Yes, I feel every ounce of self loathing that my body is allotting for what I've done to you. But what you've done is worse."

"Worse?" Blair asked. "Nothing springs to mind."

"You took me back," he smirked.

Touché.

That wasn't really anything she could argue with.

The way he looked at her so tenderly was the way she often wished for anyone to look at her. Even her mother.

"You're not supposed to be here," she tried reminding herself. "I'm not supposed to be here."

"Which is why you are here," he said into her ear.

It wasn't her fault that he was so skilled at getting her clothes off.

Like any uncharted territory
I must seem greatly intriguing
You speak of my love like
You have experienced love like mine before

Whenever he had her like this (half off the bed—or desk, or couch, or limo seat, or whatever—skirt pulled up tight past her thighs) she always thought of her naïve teenage self that didn't know delving in with the devil actually meant you belonging to the devil.

As he moved with her (and against her and inside her and all the ways imaginable) and she heard those masculine sounds he always made since he was 16, she was sure that no one had ever felt this way for another human being before her. And no one would after.

Their hormones and lust for each other were so like when they were younger that they couldn't even make it all the way onto the bed. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her spine on his sheets, half off the bed, while he knelt on his floor, all that was needed was shoving up her skirt and unbuckling his pants and they could have each other again.

In a way that she wished he didn't know she desperately needed it as much as he did. She sank her nails into his clothed back, but judging by his needy groan, she knew he felt it.

He liked her rough.

He loved her rough.

"I knew it."

"Shut up," she said quickly, clutching the back of his head. "You can gloat later."

"There's my girl."

She turned her cheek to the bedspread as he sank his own teeth into her neck. He knew how much she hated it when he left marks, but when he was in the process of making them, she couldn't exactly remember why.

No one was coming in. No one was cheating. No one was involved with anyone else. This was his place.

No one was coming in.

And yet they were both filled with such sweet dirtiness that they had to have each other. They only ripped away the necessary barriers so they were sweating correctly and physically against each other with sweet temptation.

They were gripping and tearing and wincing at each other with such pleasure as though it wasn't right. As though it were dirty. But it wasn't just tonight because she knew that she always felt like this. She always felt as though she had to have him or she would die. She would merely combust if he wasn't driving himself within her and making her scream with pleasure.

He always liked it when she screamed his name.

She always felt dirty and delicious and sweet and horrible and wonderful and she needed him exactly like he needed her.

Like this was the only way to survive. This was needed for their very existence. And if it felt that way, she knew that it was that way.

Always had been, always would be.

She felt his motions start to cease when she was nowhere near finished. And she knew he wasn't either.

"What..." Blair asked in a daze when she realized that he was feeling for the zipper at her back. "What are you doing?"

"I need to get this off."

Like it wasn't even a choice. He needed her dress off like she needed his suit off. But it just wasn't happening right now.

"No," she said petulantly and he groaned again. "Just finish this."

"Blair," he said, his body flinching at her pleasurable squeezes. "I need to get this off."

And her peak came at a whirlwind of blinding light and beautiful torment and she heard his own as she came down. The very need in his voice made her finish.

"Later," she promised as he moved within her comfortably. The comfort he always had as he nuzzled her neck. "We can do it again."

"Again," he said with satisfaction. "Again is good. Without the clothes."

She pulled herself back so her entire body was on the bed with difficulty, his weight causing a problem. He rolled onto his back, his shirt freed from his unbuttoned pants, his jacket already as discarded as her thigh highs were.

Those were just cumbersome. Even if he did enjoy peeling them off when he was in a more playful mood and not as desperate to feel her after so much time apart. He went to his side to touch her when she sat up.

"My mother's downstairs," she said conversationally, but more to herself.

"Are we really going to talk about your mother right now?" he asked, though warning lacing his tone. She promised him again. And he was going to get an again.

And again.

And again.

Because he knew she liked it. He knew she loved it as much as she loved him. Like he loved those little purring noises she made at the back of her throat when she was close. No one knew her like he did.

She turned to him, her expression somber. "We had sex."

He sat up, his hand riding her skirt back up her thigh. "Yes we did."

"That wasn't supposed to happen."

Now he was getting annoyed because she was acting like there wasn't going to be an again.

There was going to be an again, goddamnit.

And again.

He had been over this. Maybe he had to remind her. He grabbed her arm.

"I'm tired of playing this game," he said harshly. "Just admit that you love me so I don't have to think so much when we're-"

"When we're what?" Blair asked pointedly. "I guess I do put a damper on you pleasuring yourself with me."

"Oh, please," he laughed bitterly. "As though I don't please you more than anyone else ever has or ever could. Just try to deny it."

She glared at him but didn't say anything.

"I can hear it," he uttered darkly, "in your voice. When you're pleasuring yourself with me. You need me, lover. And for the record, it is dampening the mood when I have to worry about you leaving me right when you're done when I should be concentrating on how to make you orgasm the loudest so everyone knows you're with me."

"I must have been fascinating," Blair mused. "When we were younger."

"What are you talking about?" he asked in frustration.

"It's not a secret," she said. "That you never would have been with me without it. Uncharted territory is always fascinating."

"Stop it," he ordered. "Just stop. Stop talking like you were just another girl to me. It wasn't like that and you know it. Even before that we had a connection. And I'm tired of having to tell you this over and over. We're for good, sweetheart. So just stop it."

"The way you talk," she said. "You could have fooled me."

His grip on her arm just tightened and she knew he got a perverse thrill out of marking his territory. But everything about him was perverse. And she hated how that gave her a perverse thrill.

"Like what?"

"Like you have so much more experience than I do."

"I do," he said pointedly, looking at the bodily fluids decorating the hotel room.

"Gross," she said.

"What are you implying?" he asked, knowing that wasn't what he meant.

"Like you've loved like this before."

"That's preposterous," he said passionately. And he was right. Because it was frightening. Frightening to think there was anything but them.

"I have never loved anyone like this before," Blair said. "And I never will."

"Neither will I," he said. "I just know that this is right."

He moved just enough so his torso aligned with hers.

"And so do you."

She had that look about her. That look like it was all an act. That look that he loved.

"I want my again."

"Now?" she asked dubiously. "I thought you would have saved it to use it against me at a later date."

"I want your clothes off now," he ordered, forcing his mouth against her. They worked at each other for several moments before she pulled away to smile deviously at him.

"You first."

But this is not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

Chuck found himself limping down the stairs for the second time that night, his eyes searching the dance floor for a brunette in a ruined dress.

Blair certainly knew how to leave a man wanting more.

"You weren't invited."

Chuck swung to meet his stepsister's singsong voice and practically growled, "where is she?"

"What's got you all hot and bothered?" Serena asked. Then she took another look at him. "Ew, what's got you all hot and bothered?"

"It seems that you already know, if you're asking," he grinned. "Your best friend is quite the wildcat-"

"Ew, stop right there," Serena held up her hand. "You know the rule. Whatever stays in the bedroom between you two, stays in the bedroom."

"Does she talk to you about me?" Chuck smirked with ego.

"It's too graphic for me to hear," Serena said. "She tried once and my ears started to bleed."

"So you don't want to hear about how she does this thing with her leg, where-"

"Stop," Serena said, childishly covering her ears.

"Where's Blair?" Chuck finally asked, reaching for his pocket in preparation. Serena held his arm.

"Wait," she said, startled, "you're doing that now?"

"If I catch her by surprise enough, I might get what I want."

"It sounds like you got exactly what you wanted in that hotel room," Serena reminded him. "Twice."

"So she does talk to you," he said in satisfaction.

"You realize it's past midnight by now," Serena notified him.

"Perfect."

"Eleanor will never allow it," Serena said as Chuck pressed his way through the crowd. "Couldn't you have done it when you were upstairs?"

"We were otherwise occupied," Chuck replied with his usual drawl.

"I don't know why I keep asking," Serena muttered.

"Neither do I," Chuck said. "Now go away. I don't need any outside council influencing Blair right now."

"You don't really have a choice," Serena said, shying away. "Here comes Eleanor."

"Charles."

Chuck knew his attempt at cordial would come in handy at this point.

But like that was going to happen.

"I thought Blair was upstairs resting."

"If she was really ill," Chuck shrugged. "Which judging by the very satisfied look on her face, I'm guessing is just the opposite. Then again, I don't really have to."

Eleanor's face betrayed fury that was not befitting a society lady.

"Where's Blair?"

"As if I am even going to let her near you now," Eleanor scoffed.

"No matter," Chuck sighed. "She'll find me."

"I highly doubt my daughter's judgment is so faulty..."

Chuck couldn't control drowning out Eleanor because like he had some sort of radar, there she was, looking abashed but beautiful, as she always looked when thoroughly ravished.

Thoroughly.

"Blair, can we-"

"Blair," Eleanor's sharp voice said cuttingly. "I think it's time that we leave."

"Fine," Chuck said, at the end of his rope. "I've been putting this off for far too long. I guess now's as good a time as any."

"What-"

Blair asked, overwhelmed by what was happening.

Her eyes widened gloriously when he pulled out the small box and opened it to reveal the diamond to her.

He ignored Eleanor's aghast expression completely.

I don't think you unworthy
I need a moment to deliberate

She finally found him. It took hours, but she finally found him. Initially, where she should have been looking for him all along, but there he was. Drinking a scotch.

"Old Fashioned."

"My mistake," Blair rolled her eyes, taking a seat beside him.

"What are you doing here, Waldorf?" he asked, adding stress to her last name for a reason that she knew so very clearly.

"Looking for you," Blair said, annoyed that he was treating her in this manner. Typical Bass. Hurt them before they get a chance to hurt you. She really hated him sometimes.

Except when she didn't.

"Can't imagine why."

And she knew he was passed tipsy. He only omitted words like that when he was on the edge of sobriety.

"Oh, I don't know," Blair said. "Maybe because you ditched my mother's party faster than Serena skips town when she thinks she's killed someone."

"What did you expect me to do, Blair?" he asked, finally turning to face her. "You rejected me."

"I did not," Blair contradicted. "I said I needed time to deliberate."

"Deliberate," he repeated. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

"It sounds like rejection to me," Chuck retorted. "That's what girls say to guys they don't want who ask them to prom."

"Like you would know," Blair shot back. "I came to tell you something but I guess I'll let you drown yourself in scotch."

"Whiskey," he corrected.

"Whatever," Blair said so loudly after getting down from her stool that several patrons turned to stare at her. He always made her compromise herself. Usually she wouldn't have minded. But now she was mad.

"I don't know why I'm so surprised," Chuck said, stopping her retreat. "As though I've ever been worthy of you."

"I don't think you unworthy," Blair said, putting her hand to his arm. "I told you I needed time."

"For what?" he asked. "You either want something or you don't."

"I want you," Blair said, her voice escalating again. "I've wanted you always. You're just too much of an shameless jerk to understand that I'm trying to tell you I want to marry you, you bastard."

Chuck raised his eyebrows at her. "Eloquent."

"Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?" she laughed.

"Because I'm a shameless jerk."

"I knew that already," she pointed out. He took her hand and led her back to her seat. "So do I get to see it?"

"See what, exactly?" Chuck asked suggestively.

"My ring."

"It's not your anything," he said. "Maybe I don't want to marry you anymore."

"Well I wanted to marry you since I was 18," Blair replied. His hand tightened around hers.

"I think we should take our clothes off."

She laughed and his kissed her hard, right in the middle of some seedy bar.

She kind of liked it.

"I'm serious."

"I know," she said. "It's adorable."

He tried to scoff but she kissed him again.

"So," she said.

"So."

"Do you accept my acceptance of your proposal?"

"I think we both knew the answer to that the second you walked in here."

"I did," Blair said. "You decided to be difficult about it."

"We decided to get married to each other in the middle of a bar."

"At least it has symmetry to it," she said reminiscently.

"All we need is a limo," he said.

"I know you have one," she answered.

"That I do, Waldorf."

Like that was going to last for long.