A/N: So I'm not really sure how many fics I've done like this, but here's another. And in any case, its a little different formatically. Of course Chuck and Blair reconenct and sparks fly. Not very original, but its fluff. Fluff for everyone. Yay. And I'm liking how my one shots are getting longer. I don't know why.

Summary: "Well it all depends on tolerance," Blair said, acting very educated, though she was highly drunk. "And you, Mr. Bass, have the tolerance of an elephant. If an elephant happened to drink something I mixed deliberately to knock out a Chuck Bass."

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. I owe everything to the amazingness that is Gossip Girl and introduced me to the Chairgasm that is... Chair. No beta. All mistakes are mine.

He couldn't remember. It had been that long. He couldn't remember the last time he saw her smile, the last time she laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he heard her plot and scheme or aim a witty verbal barb in his direction. And he missed it all. He missed how when she was angry she would hold it in until the very end when she would explode, throwing a vase against the wall that thankfully missed his head every time. He especially missed their screaming matches on the second floor when the party downstairs would pretend that they couldn't hear them. They would also pretend they didn't hear the screams, cries, and groans when said screaming matches turned into him throwing her across the convenient bed, coffee table, or bar in a fit of passion.

Now he couldn't even remember how long he had surpressed those memories after she was gone. Oh, cruel Fate. One minute she's there and the next she isn't. He hated it. He hated how he didn't even know that she was coming. He didn't have time to prepare, to put in place the mask that he had been carting around since pre adolescence. One minute she was there, the next she wasn't. He just wished the next time he saw her wasn't at his best friend's wedding where he was the best man. And she was the maid of honor.

Punctuality was usually her strong suit.

"Where the hell is she?" Serena demanded. She was already in her white dress. Her maid of honor hadn't shown up for the reahersal and Chuck couldn't help but wonder who that was. He had become an expert at ignoring the obvious.

"Who?" he asked.

He already had a lot of scotch in him, to be honest. Seeing the two perfect blonds trading vows was not something he could do sober. Not without a certain brunette who he could share his cynical sense of humor with, laughing at how they had written their own vows with their poorly constructed metaphors of love and Nate would stick a reference to his boating in there. But that wasn't going to happen. She wasn't coming. He was sure of it. He wasn't--

"I'm here, I'm here," a painfully familiar voice broke through his reverie before Serena had a chance to beat Chuck over the head with her bouquet. Chuck turned. It was the only option. There she was in that delectable bride's maid's dress that he had no doubt she picked out herself because it was obvious she had better taste in clothing than Serena ever would.

Serena pulled her into a painfully crushing hug.

"Where have you been? The ceremony is starting in 5 minutes. 5 minutes, Blair," she screeched. Blair winced and pulled away.

"Okay, okay, calm down," she said soothingly. "You sound like me."

Serena couldn't help but smile.

"Eleanor decided that today was the day that she was going to keep me in Paris for another six months."

"Eleanor got here a week ago," Serena said.

"Yes," Blair sighed. "Further proving my point that she gets some cruel joy out of seeing me suffer."

Serena was nodding and Blair took control.

"Its okay. You can breathe. You're going to go out there and marry-- what do you think you're doing?"

One of the caterers was passing and froze at Blair's cutting tone. Chuck took a seat. He wanted to see this show.

"Setting the tables for after the ceremony..." he said, obviously awaiting his impending death.

"I don't think so..."

And Blair rattled off some intructions that only the maid of honor, only Blair would be able to take care of. She had been taking care of Serena her entire life and she hadn't been here for the year and a half. His step sister was dying.

"I'm so glad you're here," Serena said, pulling her in again. "I don't know... what I... what I would have..."

Blair groaned as Serena's eyes began to cloud with sentiment.

"Stop crying," Blair ordered her immediately. "This is the one day you are not allowed to cry. You'll ruin the thousand dollar make up that it took five hours to put on and your dress. Okay?"

Serena nodded vigorously, following Blair's every word.

"Now go back into the dressing room and stay there until I come and get you. And don't do anything."

"Okay," Serena said and turned around.

She was tired. A 14 hour flight with no sleep and she somehow managed to (once again, as always) look flawless. He was staring. He couldn't help it. She rubbed her eyes with fatigue when they landed on him. He was still checking her out.

She froze. He loved catching her off guard. It was completely worth it. Worth the cold stares and cruel quips. And yet for some reason, that didn't happen this time. She stared right back at him. He watched her as she subtly smoothed out her dress and brushed her hair back with her fingers. He smirked at her. She would hate if he knew that she was fixing herself for him. But at least he still had that effect on her. He wouldn't change it for anything.


Chuck cursed the stupid wedding planner who needed to take Blair's attention away from him. That bitch.

"Hey, man, are you ready?" Nate asked excitedly.

"Ready to watch you throw your life away during your last minutes of freedom?" Chuck asked. "Absolutely."

"Its not like that," Nate scoffed. "When the right girl comes along, you'll see."

Chuck had tuned Nate's superiority out. He was watching Blair stride down the corridor to walk down the aisle with whichever groom's man she was paired up with. Her eyes landed on Chuck's smug face.

God damnit.

"Even if you already have," Nate muttered, watching how Chuck's attentions lay elsewhere.

"What was that?" he demanded.

"I think I hear the wedding march," Nate said thoughtfully.

"Right," Chuck muttered.

But soon enough, there it was, and Nate was going down the path, in the opposite direction of his bachelorhood.

"Well," Chuck said, as Blair stood next to him, waiting for the doors to open. "Looks like we're being paired up to walk down the aisle."

"You have got to be kidding me," Blair muttered. Chuck could suppress his laugh.

"Yes," he said, "that's exactly what I wanted to hear the first time I saw you again."

Blair finally looked at him. His penetrating eyes had once again, never ceased to pull her in. And the way he was looking at her... she couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" Chuck asked, not liking how she always caught him off guard.

"Nothing," she said simply. She tried to look away, but he held her gaze. "It's just..."

"Yes?" he prompted. Suddenly, the doors swung open, and they were greeted with the wedding march. Chuck would have groaned if it weren't for the fact that he would just hold out his arm for Blair to take because they would be walking down the aisle together... even if it wasn't in matrimony themselves.

Chuck was never into the whole matrimony thing anyway. At least, that was what he tried telling himself. His father's wedding wasn't that bad. Especially afterwards when he and Blair snuck off to go... Oh. That was right. Then he left her on that helipad.

But the time in between was good. The way her eyes appraised his when he was just winging that best man's speech. In retrospect, with her in the room, it made him a lot braver. Something he was never really good at.

However, he wasn't good at drowning out boring speeches. It was a wonder he even got his high school diploma. Instead, he focused on something slightly, if not infinitely more pressing. She was watching Serena voice her carefully thought out vows of love (which incidentally made Chuck wonder how she passed English, not to mention high school itself.)

Blair's eyes shifted then. Her dark depths enveloped him and he couldn't think of anything else. Then there was clapping and rising and cheering and he realized that he should probably be paying attention. But she was there. In the back of his mind. Like always.

They watched the new Mr. And Mrs. Nathaniel Archibald descend the aisle (because Serena better not hyphenate her name, because that would just be cruel to the children.)

"So," Blair said as they followed the crowd out of the church doors. Chuck permitted himself a small smile.

"So..." he said. They were the last ones out of the room. They were all alone. And he just had to say--

"I have to go," Blair said hurriedly and she followed the crowd to the reception. Once again, Chuck was left there, standing all alone.

"Give me something to do," Blair commanded Serena quickly.

"What?" Serena asked over the loud reception music.

"I have to do something," Blair said. "I can't just sit here and... do nothing." Serena looked at her pointedly but didn't remark.

"You can go ready the honeymoon suite upstairs," she suggested.

"Honeymoon?" Blair asked. "I thought your honeymoon was going to be in St. Bart's."

"Yeah, well," Serena sighed. "Nate and I were talking and we could go there anytime. We were going to stay here and--"

"Cure world hunger and poverty, make the world a better place, yeah, yeah, yeah..." Blair rolled her eyes.

"Here," Serena said, grabbing something from one of the wedding planners. "Take this and make the suite look pretty. You're the only one who can."

"Thanks," Blair said, looking angrily down at the basket of rose petals. She climbed the stairs to the penthouse suite. If only she had known who would just come striding out of the elevator.

"Well this is a surprise," Chuck said in a way that could be contrued as pleasant, but Blair just knew was smarmy. "Looks like we've been sent up to do the same job."

He was looking at the basket of rose petals.

"I'm sure," she said, opening the door to the suite, letting him follow her.

"You know I'd never thought I'd be help readying a suite for Nathaniel to have sex in. Especially a suite I have already broken in."

Blair tried to ignore that. It was hard.

"You remember that, don't you, Waldorf?"

Blair sent him a look before shoving the basket into his hands.

"Scatter those."

"I do love a woman in command," he said.

"Well if you were setup here, what was your job?" she asked petulantly. He took his Zippo lighter from his pocket, holding it up.

"You're going to light the suite on fire?" Blair asked.

"For lighting candles," he said superiorly. "I thought you would have known better."

"Well I've never readied a suite before."

"And yet you seem to be a pro at scattering those petals," he said, mocking being impressed as she did so.

"Shut up," she laughed, "and help me."

"With pleasure," he replied, meaning exactly what he said. But he was still looking at her.

"Why are you smiling?"

Blair shook her head. "Because. This is ridiculous."

"I know," he sighed. "We should be in the bed, not decorating it."

She smacked him against his arm.

"No. I mean, we're decorating a bed that shouldn't even be used. Not to mention that they have maids for this. When I get married, I'm going on a real honeymoon. Like... Barbados or The Cayman Islands or..."
"Tuscany?" Chuck asked. Blair stilled her movements. She looked up at him slyly.


"So," he said. "What exactly was it that you were saying before?"

"I don't know what you mean," she said in a way that let him know she knew exactly what he meant.

"Before the doors opened," he reminded her. "You were saying something. You were smiling at me in that beautiful way that you do and you were about to tell me something of vital importance. I could tell."


She caught his eye.

"I hate it when you compliment me like that."

"Waldorf," he reprimanded. She was changing the subject. "You know that wasn't it."

"I was going to say..." she was having a difficult time getting it out. He put the basket on the bed, giving up on his work. He wanted to hear this.

"I was going to say that I missed you, okay?" she snapped. She was glaring at him like she was trying to defend herself. She never looked more beautiful.

They suddenly jumped at each other at the same time and moaned with satisfaction at the first touch in too long to count.

"God, you're so beautiful," he groaned into her neck. Her heart fluttered in a way that she had tried to forget. No one could do that to her and it drove her insane.

"You're driving me crazy," she admitted as he wound his arms around her waist.

"Good," her murmured into her hair, pulling her up as they descended the bed that now belonged to them, knocking the empty basket to the floor.

He tangled his hands in her luscious curls that he couldn't help smelling. He missed the way she smelled.

"Chuck," Blair figited from underneath him.

"I'm with you," he said, not letting himself distance himself from her lips.

"Do you know how much this hairdo cost?" she asked. Chuck pulled away, amusement playing across his gorgeous features.

"So?" he asked, pulling off his jacket. "This suit cost me half a quarter of a million dollars."

She stared at him for a beat. "Good point."

She pulled his face down to hers again and he moaned in contentment at her taste. He leaned back, surveying her beauty as he pulled off his shirt. He started fumbling with his belt buckle. He looked up in time to see her sit up and pull her dress gracefully over her head. And that was it. He was on her and there was no turning back.

She smelled like roses now. Chuck wasn't sure what time it was. Surely at least two hours since they came upstairs. Her chest was moving evenly, but he knew she wasn't alseep. She wouldn't get caught sleeping in a bed that was meant for both of their best friends.

Now they had copulated in the most romantic fashion that Chuck would ever care to admit and she smelled like roses. He buried his nose in her hair where the scent was most concentrated. He could die here. Just like this. With her.

"We should get back."

She really was a mood killer when she wanted to be. And he never thought he would be thinking that. He was used to throwing girls from his bed. But he would never kick her out. She turned on her side to face him. He had taken to tracing her fine bone structure, stalling because he knew that they would both be missed. She took the hand that was tracing her face in hers.

"Chuck," she said. He exhaled and laid his face against the pillow, letting his lips press against her bare shoulder. And she let him. She laid down next to him where their eyes met perfectly.

It wasn't like they were cuddling or anything. But they were just being themselves. The way it was supposed to be.

"You still have to do your speech."

"That's not the only thing I'd like to do," he let himself say. He needed a good sexual innuendo. Blair rolled her eyes fondly.

"But you're right," he said reluctantly, sitting up. He buttoned his shirt in the orderly fashion that he was an expert at. He was fastening his bow tie when he looked over at her. He must have been caught up in the moment because he hadn't even noticed the slip that she was donning. It was the slip. The one that would plague his dreams for all of eternity. When he first touched what no man ever had before.

And then it was gone. She had pulled her dress over her head again. The one that along with all of her other choices of wardrobe (especially that dress she peeled off for him in the back of the graduation party... the one he said he worshiped. And he definitely hadn't kidnapped it to put it back in his closet when she left for Paris) would forever be in his mind.

"What?" she asked self consciously as she caught him staring. She put her fingers through her hair again. "Is it my hair?"

"You're perfect," he said honestly. She looked away in embarrassment. He had no idea why she never believed him when he said things like that. She was perfect. He would be a fool not to recognize it.

They attempted straightening the wrinkles that creased their practically matching and impeccable wardrobe as they stepped out of the elevator. Serena was looking for her. She could tell. She reluctantly stepped to her best friend who looked at her critically.

"So I never got a chance to congratulate you," Blair said with evasive warmth as she sat down at the table, Chuck and Nate across from them... but mostly Chuck. Damn him.

"Where have you been?" Serena demanded in a hushed whisper as Chuck and Nate starting talking so they ccouldn't hear them. "How long does it take to scatter a few rose petals? We've been delaying Chuck's speech for like two..."

Serena froze. Blair looked over.

"You didn't," Serena said darkly.

"What?" Blair asked innocently.

"It just so happens that the maid of honor and best man have been missing for three hours? Please do not tell me that you and my step brother had sex in the bed that I'm supposed to start my marriage in."

"It has not been three hours," Blair scoffed, an expert at changing the subject. Serena eyed her critically. Then her eyes stopped.

"What?" Blair asked again, this time in genuine confusion.

"Blair," Serena siad through clenched teeth. "There is a rose petal stuck in your hair." She reached out and plucked it from her now not so flawless locks.

"You smell like scotch."

"I do not," Blair said, affronted.

"And you know what else?" Serena asked.

"I don't want to hear this," Blair muttered.

"Blair," she snapped. "You smell like him. Doesn't that bother you? Like scotch and whatever the hell he wears as cologne."

"I told you before," Blair rolled her eyes. "Natural musk."

"Ew," Serena said in a hushed whisper. "Don't you even care?"

"Honestly," Blair sighed. "No. I don't."

"You ruined my wedding."

"Serena," Blair said pointedly. "You're being melodramatic. What did I say about acting like me?"

"You don't care that you ruined my wedding?" Serena asked, aghast.

"S," Blair said affectionately. "You know I didn't ruin your wedding. I'm sorry if I upset you..."

God, Serena could be such a drama queen sometimes.

"I just want you to be happy," Serena said emotionally.

Blair hoped to God she wasn't this tearful on her wedding day. Chuck would never--

What was that? She was going to stop that thought before it even started.

"And now for the best man's toast."

Chuck smirked knowingly as he stood. Blair stiffened. Serena put a comforting hand over hers now that she was over the latest meltdown.

"My main goal was to see if I could top my last toast," Chuck joked to the crowd. Blair flushed furiously, knowing that even though the audience laughed, the only two people who would truly understand were staring right at each other. And she could never look away from his eyes. Not ever.

He launched into another speech about true love. Although there was no talk of second chances, Blair couldn't help but feel regret because she knew at her wedding, the best man's speech would never be as good as the one Chuck would always come up with. Because he wouldn't be the best man. He would be something else entirely. And it was the first time she could really admit it to herself.

"That was quite a speech," Blair said on the dance floor.

"I was inspired in the moment," he smirked back. In the end, it always went back to the beginning.

"So..." he said.


"We're just going to talk now, aren't we?" he sighed.

"Chuck," she said stonily. Then she smiled. "Just shut up and dance with me."

"With pleasure."

That was more than she had said last time.

"What are those?" she asked, holding a glass of whatever concoction Chuck had brewed for her. He was always good at that. He was especially good at getting her drunk. It was probably bad, but she liked that about him. She liked how he would get her drinks and dance formally with her. It was like how it was supposed to be. She also liked how he excelled at making her lucid so effortlessly.

"Tickets," he informed her, holding them out so his blurry vision could see them. Chuck wasn't the only one who could mix a killer cocktail.

It was like a game they played. They would mix each other drinks and see who got the other the most drunk first.

"To Tuscany. They were supposed to go on their honeymoon there. I told Nate it was a good vacation spot."

"It is," she agreed, pretending that she didn't know how she came to know that information.

"So he gave them to me. Said I could bring someone along, even though the name was in Mr. and Mrs. Archibald."

"So you were going to go alone?" Blair asked nonchalantly, swirling her drink.

"What makes you think I was going alone?" he asked slyly.

"Well I don't see any half priced trash around," she replied, privately looking around for any sluts who would dare steal him away from her again. Sluts.

"Do you want to go with me?" Chuck asked huskily, taking the plunge.

"Do you want me to want to go with you?" she asked timidly.

"Blair," he said. "We're not teenagers anymore."

"No," she responded. "We just screw on other peoples' beds like ones."

"That will never change," he smirked. "Come with me."

"I'll think about it," Blair said with a sultry look.

"You know," he said. "We wouldn't even have to go on the plane. We could just take my jet. We could go anytime we wanted. We could go now."

"But we have to see the happy couple off," Blair said mockingly. He edged closer to her on the end of the bar.

"We won't be missed."

"That was my train of thought when we were in the honeymoon suite," she replied. "But Serena had another meltdown."

"And you calmed her down," Chuck said in admiration. "Blair... you know there's no one like you."

"You don't usually talk like that, Mr. Bass," Blair said thoughtfully, but truthfully, actually drunkenly.

"Special occasion," he said, knocking back whatever horrid thing he was drinking. "Where do you think we could score a Breathalyzer?"

"I'll just ask one of my many cop friends," Blair said, her tone biting with sarcasm. "You don't make sense when you're drunk."

"Likewise, Waldorf," he nodded. "Likewise. But how else would we see who one this round of I'll Prove That I'm Drunker Than You?"

Her breathy laughter hit his cheek. And he couldn't take it anymore.

"Let's go," he urged her. "Right now."

"First," she said. "We must get the Breathalyzer."

"Don't need it," he said, not bothering with full sentences anymore. "I win on account of you being intoxicated with my presence. Not to mention my killer concoction."

"You are too smug for your own good," Blair said, sliding off the bar, but faltering slightly. Luckily, Chuck was always with her, and caught her from cracking her head on the floor.

"Reflexes like a cat," Blair nodded.

"I'm glad you approve," Chuck said, realizing that he was still holding her only three feet from the floor.

"You don't really know," he said. "Do you?"

"What you do to me."

"I do now," she replied.


"Yeah, Bass," she said, rolling her eyes. "I thought you were whisking me away to Tuscany. Leaving me already?"

He laughed, pulling her back to her feet. "Never."

"And I win," she corrected, pulling him out the door, not telling anyone where they were going.

"How do you figure?" he asked, realizing that he would probably have to call his limo if they were going to leave.

"Well it all depends on tolerance," Blair said, acting very educated, though she was highly drunk. "And you, Mr. Bass, have the tolerance of an elephant. If an elephant happened to drink something I mixed deliberately to knock out a Chuck Bass."

"I would have to agree with you there," he said. Then he leaned into her ear. "And you knocked me out from the start."

"So," she said when the limo finally arrived. "Let's go to the helipad. And you don't get to leave me this time."

"Don't we need to get your things?" he asked, leaning his head against the leather interior of the back of the seat.

She leaned into him and whispered "I won't need it."

She was right, of course (as she was prone to be) because as soon as they entered the jet, he had pushed her against one of the couches and immediately pushed up her skirt that he had done only hours ago that very day.

They didn't notice the jet beginning to shudder beneath them. And they wouldn't have noticed one of Chuck's employees if he didn't have the guts to speak up.

"Um. Excuse me... Mr. Bass?"

It took all of Chuck's will power to pull himself off of Blair.

"We'll be taking flight in a few minutes and the pilot asks that you put on your seatbelt," he said awkwardly, pretending he didn't just walk into something. Pretending that beautiful brunette wasn't just--

"See something you like?" Chuck asked coldly.

"No, sir," he said hurriedly, escaping.

"Thanks," Blair rolled her eyes. But she buckled her seat belt anyway. And he was staring again. "What?"

"Do you want to get married?"

"To you?" Blair asked bluntly.

He just smirked. "Its a hypothetical question."

"Oh, is it?" she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I was just wondering," he said, "if someone asked you, would you say yes?"

"It depends who the person who be, I suppose," Blair mused.

"What if I asked you?" he asked cautiously.

"Are you asking me?"

"I told you its a hypothetical situation."

"Well," she said diplomatically, "I suppose if you asked me, I would let you suffer for a while. Let you stew in your own fear of rejection."

"That's not very nice," he said playfully.

"But in the end," she finished. "It would probably turn into a yes."

"So," he summarized. "To surmise: If I were to... hypothetically propose to you, you would hypothetically...?"

"I would say yes, Chuck," she said softly, never tearing her eyes from his.

"Good," he said shortly, sitting back in his seat.

"Good?" she asked, trying to catch his eye.

He shrugged. "Yeah. Good."

"Oh, well," she said, "if its good then." He hid his amusement. "You know I hate secrets more than anything."

"You do?" he asked with concern. "So I guess you would hate if I spontaneously sprung a ring on you, then."

"Well if you bought a ring, it wouldn't be very spontaneous then, would it?" she asked, loving playing his games.

"Not if it just happened to be in my possession," he said. "Like how my father just happened to leave me my mother's ring in his will."

"That would be convenient," she said slowly.

"Good," he smirked. "Then you won't be disappointed. She had very good taste."

"If you ever decide to really propose," Blair reminded him. "This was a hypothetical situation, remember?"

"Oh," he said. "I just assumed when you said yes it became a real situation."

"I suppose one could view it that way," she said thoughtfully.

"Good," he replied again smugly.

"So..." she said.


"I thought we were having this conversation for a reason," she said pointedly.

"Well if I told you when and where then it wouldn't be a surprise then, would it?" he asked.

"The things I do for you, Bass," Blair shook her head.

"Starting now for instance?" he asked.

She laughed at his innocent expression.

"Yes," she said, pulling him in and ignoring the uncomfortable pressure of the seat belt. "Starting now."