Apparently I'm on a Gossip Girl kick. Little bit of broken!Chuck for you all.
WARNING: Please note that this is SLASH and Rated M. There will be sex between two men in this fic. If you're not comfortable with that, please don't read. It's pointless for you to disregard a warning and then leave a flame. It's a waste of everyone's time.
Note: Also note that this fic takes place after the events in 2x13, somewhere in between Blair waking up to find Chuck's note and Chuck leaving for Thailand.
Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.
Nate Archibald was going to hell.
He knew that fact as he knocked on the door of Chuck's suite for the fourth time and got no response. He let himself in, using the key he'd never had to use before, and stopped in the doorway.
The suite was trashed. A table was overturned and a lamp lay broken on the floor by the bar. There were four lines of coke prepared on the coffee table with a rolled up hundred sitting just to the side of the drugs. Bottles of every kind of alcohol were littering the floor, some empty, some with enough left that it leaked out and soaked the carpet.
But it wasn't the mess in front of him that scared him, it was the broken image of his best friend as he tossed clothes into a suitcase. Chuck was too pale, eyes too blood shot, his frame was growing way too thin.
For a second, Nate's mind flashed back to when Blair's bulimia was at its worst. Chuck was slowly beginning to look like that, but Nate knew it wasn't from an eating disorder. It was from too much alcohol in his system and too little food. He doubted Chuck had really kept anything down since the accident.
"Blair has been freaking out looking for you."
Chuck didn't even turn around, just tossed his scarf into his suitcase. He stared at it a minute, then took it back out and dropped it to the floor, discarding it, almost like he was discarding himself. "I've been right here."
But he hadn't been, not really, not since his dad died. This wasn't the Chuck Bass they'd all known since kindergarten. Their Chuck was an asshole, a self-serving asshole that would help you out when he felt like it. This Chuck was...he was a shell, still sarcastic and biting, but the undertone was all wrong. There was something in his tone that shook Nate to the core, something that made him feel like if Chuck was left alone, he might do something stupid.
His chest pressed against Chuck's back—and he could feel every vertebra piercing into his sternum—and his arms wrapped around his waist. He tried to ignore the hip bones that poked his arms more than they used to. He could smell the alcohol on Chuck, not only on his breath, but seeping out of his pores. He needed to shower. He needed to sober up.
Chuck didn't fight the embrace like Nate thought he would. All the fight in him was gone. He followed Nate's lead as his friend led him towards the bathroom and into the shower.
Nate stripped off his own clothes as he got in, supporting Chuck's slightly shorter body against his own. He shivered as he turned the water on cold, dousing both himself and Chuck under the stream. His teeth gnawed at his bottom lip the whole time as he soaped Chuck down, trying to push back the worry when Chuck didn't even react to the temperature. He'd gotten nothing more than a hitch in breathing when the water first hit, but after that, nothing. It was like he was numb.
He finished off the shower fairly quickly, getting them both out and dried before he led Chuck over to the bed. He laid Chuck down under the covers, still naked and hair still damp as he sat on the edge of the mattress. Chuck just lay there against the pillows, eyes half closed as he stared at nothing in particular.
"My dad's dead," Chuck whispered as Nate stood up, "Dad's dead. Mom's dead." He didn't say anymore after that, but Nate saw the tears that tried to gather in Chuck's eyes. They never fell, just got pushed back like always.
It didn't matter. Nate's eyes were tearing up for them both. Chuck never talked about his mom, never more than his annual shot in her memory on Mother's Day.
He ran his hands through Chuck's freshly washed hair in comfort and Chuck grabbed his hand as he pulled back. Shaking fingers held his wrist in a death grip and Chuck looked up at him, begging, pleading. He didn't need to speak the words. Nate knew what he wanted.
He dropped his towel to the floor before he slid under the covers, chilly skin meeting only slightly warmer skin. He kissed Chuck, hand secure on the back of his neck as his tongue searched Chuck's mouth. That same hint of scotch was always there, just underneath the mint of the toothpaste and Nate kissed him harder.
Nate knew how Chuck wanted it, hard and fast like they always did. Another fuck just like they'd been doing since they were fifteen. It was what Chuck wanted right now, Nate inside him, thrusting deep.
That wasn't what he was getting.
His lips attached themselves to the skin under Chuck's left ear, kissing and nipping down his neck and to his collar bone. He stayed there for a minute, letting himself find those little spots on Chuck. They'd never done it slow before, always too scared that if they took their time it would mean admitting something they didn't want to. They'd always had to be so careful, rush even when they were in the privacy of 1812 because anyone could come by. They fucked and he slept on the couch.
But right now, Nate just didn't care. He knew he should, he'd heard Blair when she called to say Chuck was missing, crying about how she'd told Chuck she loved him and how he hadn't said it back. His ex-girlfriend loved his best friend and here he was, kissing and touching Chuck's body in ways that he didn't want to think about Blair doing. He should have called Blair the second he found Chuck, should have been the good guy and let Blair take care of him like she wanted to, but he didn't. Right here, right now, he wanted Chuck to himself. He wanted to take care of Chuck on his own.
"What're you doin'?" Chuck asked, confused as Nate kept kissing and caressing him. This wasn't right, this wasn't what he wanted.
"Sh," Nate said, kissing Chuck again to quiet him. He knew this wasn't what Chuck wanted, but he also knew this was what Chuck needed, even if he didn't know that.
So he kept going, kissing and touching Chuck as he heard the confused noises turn into long moans and felt Chuck go into full hardness. He pressed a kiss to the tip, licking at the pre-come as he reached for the lube.
Chuck's body shuddered as he inserted his first finger and jolted when he added a second. He stretched Chuck slowly in a way that he never had before and let those moans soak into him, turning him on even more. Chuck was below him, making noises that he didn't know Chuck could make as he inserted a third and final finger.
"Please," Chuck breathed, finally seeming to have accepted this wasn't the sex he'd asked for, but accepting it anyway. He reached for a condom, ripping the package open. His hands were shaking too much to put it on Nate.
Nate kissed him, taking the condom and putting it on himself. He shook his head at Chuck as the shorter man moved to go onto his hands and knees like usual. No. This time he wanted to see his face. He put his hand on Chuck's hip, lowering it back onto the mattress as he instead lifted Chuck's legs over his shoulders.
He put two fingers back in Chuck, experimenting with the angle as he kissed Chuck again, this time bending him almost in half. Chuck moaned loudly and Nate smiled into the kiss, removing his fingers so he could reach for the lube once more.
Then he was pushing in, watching as Chuck's back arched up off the bed and his eyes rolled back, then fluttered shut as his breathing stopped.
He looked beautiful.
Nate kissed him again, couldn't stop himself. Chuck just needed to be kissed right then. It would be wrong not to, not when he looked like that. You kiss perfection.
Chuck moaned his name into his mouth, hands reaching behind Nate's back and trying to push him into moving. The second Nate's hips moved, Chuck was clawing into Nate's back like he never had before, never could. They couldn't risk Blair ever seeing the marks. Chuck had always had to clutch the blankets, but now he clawed at Nate's skin with helpless abandon.
This was them, Nate and Chuck, coming together as the blankets draped around them, shutting them out from the harsh reality that lay outside.
Chuck bucked against him as Nate hit his prostate, nails definitely drawing blood as he angled himself to hit it with each thrust.
It was his full name that always got to him, listening to Chuck call him that, taking the effort to form each syllable even during sex.
One of his hands went to Chuck's leaking cock, jerking it in rhythm with his thrusts. Chuck didn't last long after that and neither did he. It was Chuck's face as he came that sent him over the edge. It wasn't something pornographic.
It was the tears, the tears that finally came when he did, bursting forth with no chance for Chuck to stop them. Nate kissed him once before he filled the condom, holding Chuck as they both rode their highs.
Beautiful, even as he cried.
Nate knew he cared for his best friend more than he probably should and that it probably made him more than a little gay, but none of that mattered. He was Nathaniel Archibald and the man below him was Chuck Bass. They just were.
He pulled out of Chuck with a reluctant kiss and disposed of the used condom. He didn't get up for a towel to clean them off. They could shower later. Right now it was time to comfort Chuck. The dam had broken and Nate had been ready for that.
Chuck was shaking like a leaf as Nate pulled him up against his chest, shoulders heaving as he cried into Nate's neck. They didn't speak, just laid there as Chuck finally cried not only for his father, but for the death of both his parents. He cried himself into an exhausted sleep, maybe one of the first sleeps since the accident that hadn't involved drugs or alcohol. Nate dozed beside him, eyes closed as his hand rubbed Chuck's back until he finally dropped off into slumber.
Chuck was gone when he woke up.
The space beside Nate was cold and the bags from before were gone. There wasn't a note or a text telling him where he was going or when he'd be back, but Nate hadn't really expected one. He'd hoped Chuck wouldn't run away, but at the same time knew it was what Chuck did.
Nate dressed with slumped shoulders as his eyes kept drifting back to the empty bed and his mind kept flashing back to Chuck's face only hours before.
He was halfway to the door when he stopped and turned back, going straight for the scarf Chuck had discarded when he first got there. He lifted it to his face, feeling a bit silly as he inhaled Chuck's scent.
Nate Archibald was in love with his best friend. God, he knew it.
Nate Archibald was in love with Chuck Bass, but Chuck Bass was in love with Blair Waldorf.
He took the scarf with him when he left, folded into his jacket pocket as he looked at his phone and saw a new text from Blair.
Nate bit his lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard before he finally typed a response.
He pressed Send as he exited the building and cast one last look at the hotel.
Chuck was gone, left without a goodbye.
It hurt more than Nate wanted it to.