A/N: This is the new story that I promised you guys since "If The World Were Like The Movies" is finished. It's just a one-shot, however, a full-length story is on the way but not completed yet. Anyhoo, I hope you guys enjoy this! It was inspired by my time at a play Friday night :-)

Things Change In The Dark

Blair couldn't believe that out of all the seats in the theater, she was given the one next to Chuck Bass. If the fact that he leered at anything with breasts and a pulse didn't turn her off enough, him deserting her in Tuscany certainly did. She had returned on the arm of a lord and had been rising higher ever since.

She was above the drama surrounding her and Chuck.

More importantly, she was above the man himself.

While her lord may have travelled back to England, the stain of his step mother on his Egyptian cotton sheets, the progress she had made with him stayed in the States. Although he had ultimately betrayed her, Blair's relationship with Marcus showed her that she deserved more than Chuck could ever offer. She deserved someone who wasn't afraid to be with her, someone who could commit to her entirely. Chuck could never give her that. There would always be that small part of him that didn't completely buy their cause, that 1% that still looked up other women's skirts.

She knew that in most cases he would be able to repress this small part of him that rebelled, but just the fact that he had it proved to Blair that she could get, and deserved, much better.

While her mind seemed to be immune to Chuck Bass, her body was not. Her pupils dilated when he greeted her, the lilt of his words sending a shiver down her spine. She grudgingly noticed the fine cut of his suit, the distinct scent of cedar that reminded her of him every time she caught its notes.

As the lights dimmed he whispered, "Show time."

He had no idea.

She seemed to become increasingly aware of his body with the deprivation of one of her senses. While it was not entirely dark in the theater, it was dark enough where she could not fully see him. She turned her head slightly and caught just a hint of his profile.

His knee touched hers.

Surprised, Blair experimented by pushing her knee forward a bit, the material of her tight rubbing against the cotton blend of his pants leg. She knew she had hit a nerve when she heard his sharp intake of breath. Coming to her senses, she crossed her legs and turned away.

Halfway through the scene his arm brushed against hers. It was so subtle that if it were anyone other than Chuck she would have believed it to be accidental. He let his arm linger beside hers and she wondered if he could feel the warmth of her skin through the suit's material.

The audience laughed at something but she remained silent. The action onstage was completely lost to her, the man next to her taking all of her attention. Every one of his actions seemed more dynamic in the dark. She could hear him shift, breathe, everything. The slight turn of his head to look at her did not even escape her attuned ears. She caught him doing it near the first intermission, both of them distancing themselves from each other afterwards.

At the commencement of the first act, the lights returned and Chuck was up and out of his chair before she could say a word. He moved surprisingly quickly for a man who ran a ten minute mile. Her mouth felt dry at his brusque behavior and she wondered if she had done the wrong thing by not pulling away when his arm and knee, possibly innocently, touched hers.

The argument she held too, though, was that he didn't pull away either.

He hadn't pulled away, yet he left the intermission without so much as a word and as the lights began to dim he was nowhere to be found.

She decided to actually watch the play in an effort to take her mind off of Chuck. She tried to follow the action, but having missed the entire first act, she felt she was also missing the point. She didn't understand any of the character's dialogue, their motives. In fact, the only thing she could comprehend was that she missed the electricity she had felt in that first act, her skin barely touching his yet eliciting a feeling that she had to admit rivaled any other she had experienced before. She didn't care much about what was going on but rather wanted to continue the game of cat and mouse her and Chuck had been playing before. Who would go the furthest? Who would push things the most?

His departure told her that she had won this game but she felt nothing besides emptiness. She may have won the game but she had ultimately lost her prize.

Completely disinterested in the play, she gathered her things silently and stood up, making her way out of the theatre.

She caught sight of him just outside of the door. He had a cigarette in his hand and he sucked on the end in an almost violent matter, his shoulder's hunched from the cold. Gingerly she walked out to him.

"Smoking, huh?"

"I felt jumpy."

"You're missing a great play," she idly noted. "The acting is just superb, really."

"I'm coming back in. I just had to," he paused, "get away for a bit."

"Things change in the dark, don't they?" She said softly, and before he could respond she had slipped through the door and made her way back into the theater. She settled in her seat and closed her eyes, the beat of her heart so loud in her ears that she was positive that those around her could hear it. Her ears picked up the sound of the door behind her opening softly and then he took his seat beside her again. She didn't dare breathe for a moment, her eyes burning at the feel of him next to her.

His leg rested heavily against hers.

Her head turned sharply towards him and his profile turned to face her as they locked eyes. Both turned away at the same time, their legs pushing together. She folded her hand on her lap and held her breath as she felt his hand cover hers. She never thought Chuck would be the type to hold hands. Pushing up her skirt, yes she could imagine that, but not gently laying a hand over hers.

He did it, though.

The feel of his skin over hers made something in her stomach purr and before she could stop herself she took his hand between hers and held it tight. She ran her thumb over the smooth skin of his hand, feeling the change from skin to cuticle, cuticle to nail. His hands were perfect; she couldn't find one ragged cuticle.

"I think about you every day," he whispered in her ear suddenly, making her head spin.

She murmured his name so softly that she could barely hear it.

"You're all I can think about Blair."

She realized as he whispered in her ear, his hand between hers, that she had taken this too far. His lips were too close to her skin, and she didn't like the way that holding his hand made her heart beat wildly. Taking a cue from his instinct for flight, she rose from her seat hastily and dropped his hand. She could hear the rustle of irritation from those around her as she pushed her way out of the theater.

"Blair," he called from behind, his voice far too loud for being just inches from the theater.

She wheeled around and said, "We shouldn't have done that."

"No, we did exactly what we should have done. That's how we should be, Blair, not avoiding each other."

"We tried the not avoiding thing," Blair reminded him. "It ended with me making my way through Tuscany alone. I wanted to be with you, Chuck. You got cold feet."

"I'm ready, Blair," he told her, grasping her hands which she promptly tore away. "I'm ready."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you?" She demanded.

"I know you felt something in there," he said, gesturing widely to the closed theater doors. "You felt-"

"All I felt was you rubbing your leg on me like a horny dog."

"If my memory serves me correctly, Waldorf, you rubbed right back."

"We shouldn't have done it," Blair held. "It was a mistake."

"Like hell it was," Chuck snapped and her eyes narrowed as she said, "Don't swear at me, Bass. It was a mistake. I didn't realize what I was doing."

"Oh, so you grabbing my hand was just a coincidence? What, did the dark deprive you of your senses along with your sight?"

"You don't have to be so belittling," Blair spat. "I admit, I did grab your hand, but I regret it."

"Oh, really?" He sneered.

She nodded. "Yes, really, it was a mistake."

As she turned away he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. Her body crushed to his and she looked at his face as he drawled, "It wasn't a mistake, and you know it, Waldorf."

Before she could respond he had crashed his lips to hers, his tongue darting in her mouth in such a manner that she had to force herself to pull away.

"You bastard," she hissed, slapping him smartly against his cheek. Undaunted, he pulled her in again.

"Stop," she mumbled against his lips, her eyes glassy. He moved his lips steadily against hers and she gave up fighting. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as tightly as her body would allow. She pressed her body to his and appreciated the arms wound around her waist as the kiss went to her head. He pulled away gently and murmured, "This is how you should feel everyday, Blair. This is how you deserve to feel."

"Like I am going to pass out?" Blair questioned, staggering a bit within his embrace.

He answered by dipping his head to hers again, his lips barely brushing hers. "I want this, Blair. I want you. I was scared before, but I'm not now."

"How do I know that?" She asked softly. "How do I know you won't get scared tomorrow, or next week?"

"I'm done being scared. I thought that I wanted freedom, but Blair, you were all I could think about. I would be with someone else-"

"I don't want to hear about that," she said hurriedly.

"Wait, I would be with someone else and all I could think about was how they weren't you." He pressed his lips to her forehead and her eyes closed softly.


"They didn't have your soft skin, or your thick hair. They didn't smell like you; feel like you. They just weren't you, Blair."

She didn't answer for a moment and he leaned in again, thwarted by the turn of her cheek. "Don't," she sighed. "I can't think with you doing that."

"Okay," he relented, his arms still wrapped securely around her waist. "I am giving you time to think."

"I want to believe you," she said, her voice yielding.

"Then believe me. Look, you know that I don't wait. I don't wait for girls and I certainly don't chase them, but I'm willing to do that for you. I will wait for you for as long as you need, chase you until you realize that I am in the game to win. I want you, Blair. I want you beyond all reason, all thought-"

"Say it," she said huskily.

"Say what?"

"You know what, Bass," she murmured and she watched his face change, a naked emotion in his eyes that she had never seen before. Not saying a word, he unwound his arms from her waist and took her hand, leading her outside. They walked for a while until they came to a park, stopping in front of a small pond.

"What are we doing here?" She asked him, still craving those three words.

"You used to come here when you were little," he began. "You would go for walks with your dad in your little jumpers."

"I never wore jumpers," she scoffed.

"Believe me, you wore jumpers," he insisted. "I know this because when you would be here with your dad I would be hiding behind that tree watching you."

He gestured to a large oak.

"Stalker," she joked softly.

"I used to watch you," he continued, touching her hair gently. "I liked to watch the way you moved, the way your hair blew in the wind. I think that's when I fell in love with you, from the moment I saw you out here with your dad."

"Say it Chuck," she begged, wanting to hear the words. She wanted to hear each one, every word fulfilling the dream that-

"I love you," he finally said, dispelling all thoughts in her mind except for those three words and the lips that she hastily pulled to her own. He returned it hungrily, his mouth searching, exploring.

"I love you Chuck Bass," she mumbled against his lips. "I love you; I love you."

They left the park hand in hand, Blair feeling the same desire to skip that she had always found herself with so many years ago when she would be walking with her father. She wrapped her arm around his waist and curled into his side, his warmth enveloping her.

He looked down at the woman at his side and could not believe how he had resisted her in the first place. Nothing felt more natural than to have her in his arms. Nothing felt more right. She brought her hand to his chest and he sighed.

Nothing felt more right.

A/N: What did you think of it?