A/N: My first one-shot in a really long time. Just something random that I got inspired to write when I was watching TV the other day. I hope its not too random, but its sort of a parallel to Oh Brother, Where Bart Thou. But its when they're older and more mature. I hope its good.

Summary: Passion was just what he did. His kisses set her on fire. His caresses inflamed her. His love made her scream.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Everything goes to Gossip Girl, especially Oh Brother Where Bart Thou which was an amazing episode.


Words like "I'm sorry for your loss" and "she was a great woman" really weren't comforting when your mother lay cold and white on a hospital bed. True, it was harsh, but that was how Blair was in a time of loss and her need for self defense. She had been through it too much, even if it wasn't her own father's funeral. But it still hurt. Especially when the person you were caring about disappears on a jet to Bangkok.

The ding of the elevator, alerting her to the inevitable approach lay distant in her mind. She was trying to remain numb. Then the waves of pain couldn't kick in. Her nails dug into the white tablecloth that her mother had ordered months ago when a warm hand flattened her palm against the linen comfortingly. He always knew the right thing to do.

She didn't even need to look into his smoldering eyes, breathe in his piquant signature scent or hear his lecherous voice husk in her ear to know who it was.

And she was glad he was here. Relieved. The weight that had been dragging her into the deep waters of depression seemed to lift as he gave her the ability to breathe back.

"You're here," she said quietly into his shirt.

"I am," he confirmed.

He was always someone with little words. But he meant every one, the opposite from old boyfriends who said "I love you" just as a knee jerk reaction to her own proclamation. But he... he meant every raspy word he breathed into her ear.

Blair clung onto his expensive shirt with her nails, just so she wouldn't fall off the edge of the earth like she knew that she was doing.

"I'm lost," she shuddered.

"I'm here," he said and she herself could hear what was hanging off the end of that sentence... for you.

They seemed to only be able to communicate in two word answers.

"Thank you."

Blair was finally able to look into Chuck's eyes. He was amazing. She didn't know how no one else saw it but her. He was just... totally and utterly amazing. And anyone who couldn't see that was a fool.

Chuck smoothed her hair gently, wiping her mascara streaked face.

"Blair," Chuck started, "I--"

Blair didn't hear what he was about to say. And frankly, she didn't care. She violently grabbed his bow tie and literally smashed her lips into his. She heard a muffled grunt and the familiar flame of rejection flared through her.

In an instant, everything changes. One moment, he's completely baffled by your actions. But he is Chuck Bass. And Chuck Bass doesn't do baffled. He does Blair Waldorf. That flame of rejection was caught off before it even took off, exploding on the launching pad as he shoved her things off her vanity that they had traveled to and practically threw her down across it's surface in his passion.

That was the thing about the man she was so desperately and conspiratorially in love with. Passion was just what he did. His kisses set her on fire. His caresses inflamed her. His love made her scream. He wasn't a cardboard cutout out the "perfect boyfriend. He was just Chuck. And all that mattered was that he was kissing her again.

"Chuck," she moaned between kisses. He sort of wasn't paying attention to her talking. It was a thing he did.

"We're sort of getting carried away," she told him. "Again."

Chuck finally looked up after the attention he was giving her neck. He didn't have any misconceptions about what she wanted to do. What she wanted to do was this. But many a time had they been caught up in the heat of their passion in some elevator (with cameras), bathrooms (in public restaurants), and closets at Thanksgiving (which Lily had been throwing and was actually surprised when she opened the door to get Serena's coat because she was dashing out early. Again.)

"Bed," Blair reminded him.

Chuck looked over his shoulder, wistfully at her bed that was on the other side of the room. If there was one thing that Chuck had a problem with, it was laziness. He really didn't have the heart to do anything that required effort unless he could do it without it.

His eyes went back to hers and she saw the softness there. He was here for her. So that was probably the incentive of him picking her up and throwing her over her sheets before descending up on her again.

But he made himself pull back.

"Blair," he said huskily, knowing that he was already deeply aroused. "I know that you just need someone right now. And I was just here. I understand that. And if..."

"Chuck," she whispered and he listened intently. "I needed you. Yes, you were here, but I needed you of all people. You know me. And you of all people know what's going on with me right now."

"That's why I understand if you just want to..."

"Chuck," Blair said, "I need you. Please."

And was as close she was getting to begging.

"Can you just promise me one thing?" he asked. "Don't be gone leaving just a note when I wake up."

"Its my house," Blair told him.

"Be here when I wake up."

"I always was," she told him.

And he loved her again.


Chuck didn't want to fall asleep. He knew it was wrong of him to want her to still be there in the morning. But he wanted her. Still. Even after they're passionate blow out after one of their many misunderstandings that he couldn't even remember at the moment. They seemed so trivial when he loved her so damn much.

And yet, here they were. Back again. She was so close he could smell her. And being the creepy Chuck Bass-tard that he was so affectionately called, he did. She was sweeter than he remembered.

"You're still here," she said softly.

It wasn't fair of him to want her to be here after everything. He was the one who abandoned her with just a note. But he couldn't be without her. He didn't want her doing all the things that he was doing when his father died. It was unhealthy. But it would be unhealthier for him if she wasn't here.

"If you want me," he said honestly. "You were the one who wasn't supposed to leave."

"I didn't want to leave," she told him.

"I left," he said.

"You're not leaving now," she told him. He turned on his side to see the side of her face pressed into her pillow. "Are you?"

"You want me here?" he asked.

"Always."

"It didn't seem that way the last time we talked," he told her honestly. "Or more truthfully, screamed."

"We overreacted," she told him. "We always do."

"And what about now?" he asked her.

"I need you with me," she told him. "You run away from feelings but I can't stop anymore. I need you here with me because I'm scared. I'm holding myself together by a thread and you're the only one who understands. You're the only one who ever understood."

"If you can forgive me," he said.

"If we can forgive each other," she amended. "There's nothing to forgive you for. You're just you. And I can't be without you anymore. I don't want to."

"Blair," he said quietly, pushing her hair away. He just needed to see her face. He couldn't live without her face. "Don't destroy yourself over this. I did and I regretted it. I regretted every day that I didn't come back to you. So don't hurt yourself."

"Then stop me," she told him. "Then don't leave."

"Never again," he promised her. He would make good on that promise this time. For certain.

Never again.