A/N: So there's a fic meme floating around the ethernet. It's one where you put your iPod on shuffle then write little ficlets while the first five songs play. A story to each song. Here goes nothing. Bring on the music and the Chuck/Blair goodness.
Had) The Time of My Life" - Billy Medley and Jennifer Warnes
He sees her standing there, long white dress sweeping the floor and her hair upswept showing off the curve of her neck. He is always partial to her neck. Loves to kiss it, rub the beginnings of his stubble against it and make her shiver. He feels the start of a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.
As if alerted to his presence by some unspoken connection, she turns her head. Their eyes meet. His breath catches in his throat. She is beautiful, he thinks. She always is, but tonight it's different. Tonight she really is outstanding. Amidst the other girls in taffeta and silk, preening like peacocks, she appears ethereal. The simplicity of her gown, the casual curl of her hair, the softness of her makeup makes the girls around her look gaudy and garish in comparison.
He strides across the floor to her side. "Waldorf," he says. He can smell her perfume, that seductive scent that is half flowers and half Blair. If heaven has a smell, this is surely it.
"Bass," she acknowledges with a slight raise of one perfectly arched brow.
"Would you…" His mouth is suddenly dry. He licks his lips, a small display of nervousness. "Would you like to dance?"
When she doesn't respond, but only continues to gaze at him, Chuck swears his heart stops. This was a mistake, he admonishes himself. A big stupid idiotic mistake. Of course she would turn him down. Why the hell wouldn't she? He had had his chance and he screwed it all up and now it's just –
"I'd love to," she says finally. Her eyes are sparkling with some hidden knowledge.
As he glides her out onto the floor, he grins because he has a secret too. Taking her into his arms, he sighs with pleasure. She doesn't know it yet, but he's never letting go.
"The Girl is Mine" - Michael Jackson with Paul McCartney
"I think I made a mistake," he says.
Chuck looks at his best friend and shakes his head. "Nathaniel," he begins.
"No," the golden boy cuts him off. "I know I made a mistake. I want her back."
The contents of Chuck's glass suddenly seem quite interesting. "And why is that?"
"She seems so… different lately."
Sipping his scotch, Chuck nods. Blair truly has been different lately, and it's all because of him. Ever since that night at Victrola, where she shed her clothes onstage then surrendered her virtue in his limo, Blair has been changing. Growing into herself, embracing her freedom, happy and carefree in a way she has never been before. Watching the transformation is magnificent. She is becoming a woman to be reckoned with.
And she has chosen him. A secret smile spreads over Chuck's face.
He doesn't realize it, but he has been changing too. Becoming a better person, a better man. Someone worthy of a girl like Blair Waldorf.
"I miss her," Nate continues. "I guess I just never noticed how important she was to me before. I need to win her back. Will you help me?"
Meeting Nate's earnest eyes, Chuck fights to keep the gloating smirk off his face. "Absolutely," he lies.
"Happy New Year B" - Original Broadway Cast of RENT
Her hands clench into fists. A flush rises in her cheeks, and she glares with everything she's got.
"I hate you Chuck Bass!" Blair yells, her strident voice carrying across the playground. To accentuate her point, she stamps her foot.
From the top of the monkey bars, the boy in question smirks as he looks down at her. "Is that all you got, princess?" he taunts with a laugh.
Nate shifts uncomfortably upon the sun warmed metal. "Come on, Chuck. Be nice." He begins to disentangle himself from the bars, preparing to drop back into the sand below.
Chuck reaches out and stops him with an outstretched arm. "No," he says without looking up from the angry girl directly beneath them. "Don't help her. If she can't do it herself, she doesn't deserve to be up here."
Blair's mouth presses into a furious line. "I'll show you, jerk! Just wait until I get up there!" she threatens. She remounts the few steps of the ladder and raises her skinny arms to the top rung. Grasping it, she kicks free, her tiny feet swinging in space. She struggles to lift herself up, her lips drawn back into a determined grimace.
After several long moments, with an audible gasp her fingers begin to slip. In a sudden movement, Chuck covers her hands with his, maintaining her weakened grip upon the bar. "Giving up so soon?" he sneers into her face as he leans forward. "Go home, Blair. You're pathetic."
With a cry of rage, her hands tighten under his. Her arms tense and she kicks at the air as she draws herself upwards. As her scrawny legs finally curl over the edge of the bars, Chuck releases her hands. She pulls herself the rest of the way up and raises livid eyes to his. In a flash, she strikes him as hard as she can. "I'm not pathetic Bass!"
Rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder, he looks steadily back at her. "I knew you could do it."
"What?" she says in apparent confusion. Then looking down, she realizes. "I did it! I made it to the top!" She breaks into a grin, and the look of pure happiness on her face makes the pain in Chuck's arm totally worth it.
"The House" - John Williams [from the HomeAlone soundtrack]
"You know he's not real, right?" Serena explains to Nate while Chuck looks on in amusement.
"Who isn't real?" Blair asks as she returns with a tray of cookies cut into various familiar shapes. Trees. Stockings. Candy canes.
"Santa," the blonde says knowledgeably.
Blair pauses, the tray hovering halfway above the table. Her brow furrows. "Yes he is," she states.
Nathaniel and Chuck wisely say nothing, but then Serena has to open her big fat mouth.
"You can't be –" she begins with a laugh. Abruptly Chuck grabs her hair and tugs harshly. "Ouch!!! What was that for?" She shouts as she hits him in the chest. He glares back at her darkly.
"Don't tell her," he whispers softly under his voice so only she can hear. Comprehension dawns in Serena's blue eyes. In a louder voice Chuck continues, "Those cookies look great Blair. Is there milk to go with them?"
Blair nods. She always likes to play house, and having her three friends over for movies is almost like that. "Sure," she beams. "I'll be right back with some."
After she exits the room, Serena turns back to Chuck. "Why don't you want her to know the truth? She'll find out eventually anyway."
He looks back at her sardonically. "Of course she will," he smirks. "But don't you remember what it was like to believe, S? Don't take that away from her. Let her keep that feeling for as long as she can."
"Those You've Known" - Original Broadway Cast of SpringAwakening
The sky is cold, grey, unforgiving. The wind whips against him, cutting through his jacket like it was insubstantial. His breath appears in small puffs as his feet crunch softly through the remnants of the first snowfall. He tells himself for the thousandth time that he doesn't want to be here.
But against his own volition, his steps continue taking him forward. Moving him inevitably towards the one place he has never desired to see again. Once was enough, thank you very much. Still, somehow he trudges on, expensive flowers clutched in his hand. The fragrant blooms wilt quickly in the chill December air.
He wonders if it really has only been a year. It seems like lifetimes ago that he had held her in his arms. He can scarcely recall that one magical night when the world made sense and he believed in second chances. And yet sometimes the pain is so fresh, so acute that it seems like it happened only yesterday. When he'd discovered that magic can't be trusted and second chances only exist in fairy tales, when everything had been taken from him in a single brutal instant.
With stinging eyes, he realizes his journey has stopped. He's there. He kneels down beside the grave, wipes the snow away with leather clad hands. Angrily, he rips one glove off, flings it aside so he can caress the name etched upon the marble headstone.
Coward, he thinks as one tear threatens to escape and trail a scalding path down his cheek, such a fucking coward to have never returned here before now. Just another regret to add to the list along with all the things he never got to say, never got to do. He'd always assumed he would have more time, and then suddenly he had no time at all. Nothing remained but missed opportunities and might have beens.
He drops the flowers to bury his face into his hands. He'd give anything to hear his name in that voice.
He raises his head and there Blair stands, like a mirage amidst the swirling snowfall.
"I thought you'd be here," she says gently. He meets her eyes briefly and looks away from the tenderness there. She comes to stand by him, a bouquet held between her slender fingers. "He was a good man, your father."
In silence, she places her flowers carefully next to his and stays kneeling at his side. Slowly, she works one hand out of its glove. Groping blindly, she reaches and somehow finds his hand.
He looks down at their entwined fingers and then back at her. To those chocolate pools where once he saw his future, and unexpectedly it is like a floodgate opens and the tears he has refused to shed fall as her arms wrap around him.
It's like coming home.