A/N: So this was the spawn of my guilt at not having been able to work on a few of my longer stories + Riley asking me to write something that involved Blair being somewhat like the character from "Closer," the movie. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Familiar Strangers

She'd cut her hair.

The long, elaborate curls that he used to twist and tug between his fingers now barely skimmed her shoulders in soft waves. They didn't move with her like they used to, but they seemed to have rather taken on a life of their own. Even as she stood perfectly still, head slightly cocked to the side with neatly plucked brows furrowed in confusion at her step brother's "art," the pieces flew gently around her face even in the musty, stagnant air of the Brooklyn loft.

In a simple, black cocktail dress, it was easy to see that time had been good to her. He would say that during her three year absence, she'd blossomed from girl to woman, but then again, she'd never really been "just a girl" before, had she? Even her most frivolous and romantic notions were tainted with pride and ambition. But there was something different about her now, something in the way she stood - her back less rigid, curving just slight as she rested her weight casually on one hip. Her flat suede boots kept her grounded while the flash of white skin between them and the hem of her dress implied a flightiness the likes of which he had never seen in her.

Then again, three years could do much to a person. Or maybe the string of events that preceded her departure and plagued her last year in high school were the cause of the personality shift.

She gave up her contemplation and, finally, he caught her big brown eyes and a smirk even more jaded than he was used to. Without another minute to spare him, she walked out of the room, a pale hand trailing the door frame before disappearing altogether.

He wondered if she was a dream.

* * *

"Hey stranger."

He stared at the pink and purple lights dancing across her face. Familiar.

"Still no words, Bass?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Giving you the chance to do more than just stare at me for fifteen minutes. Sparing you from trying to find the balls to approach me. Last week seemed... painful for you."

He tried to gather his wits. "I was in Brooklyn. Of course it was painful."

"Well, Aaron appreciated it all the same, I'm sure."

A redhead who seemed vaguely familiar stumbled over with one too many and he subtly signaled the bartender to cut her off. There had been enough scenes for one day. "B! There you are! I'm such a bad whatever. Let me introduce. B, this is Chuck Bass. He's the owner of the club. Chuck, this is my friend B."

"A pleasure, Mr. Bass."


"Come on, B! Let's dance!"

Before her friend could pull her away completely, she held him with her eyes and caressed him with her breath. Her voice, low and sultry, rang loudly against the club music pounding from the speakers. "See you around, Mr. Bass."

And he watched her dance like he did when they were teenagers. She swung her hips gracefully, lacking the virgin awkwardness that had enticed hordes of men asking for a repeat performance, and her arms extended well above her head. She was small and lovely within the mass of swaying bodies and adrenaline.

At some point in the night, between getting his refilling his drink and a problem with an unruly patron, he lost sight of her. He slammed his tumbler onto the bar, a scowl chasing away anyone who might have otherwise clung onto him in hopes of a tip or a "treat." A hand dusted off his coat as he stalked out the door and into the brisk October air. He ripped open the door to the limo without waiting for Arthur to come around the front.

And she attacked him - lips, nails, legs pulled at every inch of him until he found himself on his hands and knees, her sequin clad body twisting beneath him as she sucked the air from his lungs. With their feet tucked at just the edge of the leather seat, he heard Arthur shut the limo door nonchalantly behind him.

The man really deserved a raise.

She bit his lip and arched her body against his, her freshly cut hair flooded over the seat in sensual, fingers-enticing waves. His teeth grazed her neck and almost as an immediate reaction, she thrust her pelvis toward his, eliciting a response that brought a sly smile to her lips. Her name came out in a breath - a name that had not been spoken or heard for three years. "Blair..."

Her eyes flashed, the smallest of frowns appeared on her brow before her entire demeanor changed from playful to defensive. Her muscles tensed beneath his fingers and her bones snapped straight from its previous pleasures. With a growl akin to a purr, she pushed them both upright and straddled his hip. Claw like fingers worked furiously at his belt buckle. "It's B, Mr. Bass."

The leather gave way to silver snap buttons and with two - snap, snap - she yanked his trousers down and he was almost certain that the zipper was now broken. When she wrapped her hand around him, soft skin with a firm grip, black nails curved in, he uttered again. "Blair."

"That's not my name, Chuck." She slammed down on him without another word and just as he was about to say her name again, insist upon it to prove that this was real, she pressed her lips against his - a teeth smashing, lip cutting kiss that ended with the two of them blowing hot breaths into the other, by the other's chiseled cheek.

It was a rare occasion for Chuck when his counterpart was the rough, dominant half but he conceded only to Blair. Not Elle, not Georgina, not even to that nanny he had dallied with, and certainly not this "B." No, this was all Blair. Raw and hard. It was Blair in every bite and Blair who engulfed him in flames. And when it was all over, it was Blair's name that jumped from deep within his throat and Blair who rested her head against his shoulder, breaths heavy and misting on his skin.

It was also Blair who slipped away to the other side of the limo, her waist that twisted away from his hands.

She lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out the window, her eyes on the shining lights as the breeze kissed her face. The car slowed to a stop in front of a hotel in a part of the city that she would never have caught herself in before.

"When can I see you again?" He asked as if he were a little boy giving a little girl a valentine card.

"You won't."


"I'm leaving New York in the morning." She glanced back over at him as she took another drag. "This doesn't change anything, Chuck. Goodbye."

She had one heel on the gravel when he gave it one last shot. "I thought it's Mr. Bass, B."

With a sad smile, the ones she used to give him when he threw her affection back in her face, she looked back at him. "That's right."

* * *

She was ice skating. Her hair had grown back out into long waves that hung down her back and it flew behind and around her as she glided and twirled on the ice. Her laugh sounded like broken bells, her smile twitched at the corners of her lips, but still she was a sight to behold. His hands gripped the railing like talons and he kept his hawk eyes on her, minding her from just the edge by the exit.

She caught his eye finally and, after a moment, nodded and skated towards him, her body colliding gently to a stop with the edge, her hands holding on in the gap between his own. She looked down at him from the slightly elevated platform, her eye line about an inch above his. "Chuck."

He didn't wait for another word because he knew better this time around. He knew how easy it was for her to just disappear and he pulled her in with a hand to the back of her neck and kissed her cold lips. They melted and burned beneath his. "Let's head back to my place." She tilted her head to the side and the soft tips of her hair brushed against his bare knuckles.

He nodded wordless, taking her elbow and helping her out of her skates. He held out his arm and when he went to tuck her small, cold hands in the warm crook of it, she gave a soft whimper. He stopped and with a gentle tug at her sleeve, revealed a purpling bruise that clearly held a thumb print. "I was in London for a while."

His jaw flexed as he bit down and swallowed. "Yeah? Why'd you leave?"

"Problems. With a male." She pulled the sleeve down again, having it rest slightly below her wrist and over her thumb. This was a Blair he hated - small, vulnerable. She looked up and caught his gaze almost defiantly. "I took care of it though."

He nodded and wrapped an arm around her delicate shoulders. "Now let me take care of you, Blair."

He only relaxed when he felt her nod reluctantly and rest her head on his chest. With a sharp inhale that welcomed a burst of burning cold air into his lungs, he began walking her home.


A/N: Sorry, this is kind of weird, no? I also wrote chunks of it at different places - starting at a diner, some of it at work, and finally in the comfort of my own bed. Hope you guys liked it though!