Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl or any of the characters used in this story (save for the OCs)
A/N: I had this idea while watching reruns of 8 Simple Rules a few weeks ago, and I've been steadily adding to this piece-by-piece since then. The "rules" were found on Wikipedia, and double checked via google search. Originally, this story was supposed to revolve around a situation similar to the show; two teenage daughters, one pre-teen son, but from the first few lines onwards it took on a life of it's own and so it completely veered away from that vein.
Also, I made this a little more family-centric and ensemble then I previously planned, I got caught up in writing the characters (I especially love Lucas) so it may or may not have steered away from the point in places and I'm sorry for that, but I quite like it as a whole and I hope that you guys do too. As always, reviews are loved and appreciated.
Use your hands on my daughter and you'll lose them after
"Home by twelve," Blair Waldorf-Bass instructs, looking at her daughter sternly. "It may be Missy Thompson's birthday, but it's also a school night."
Evelyn Bass pouts, but reluctantly nods. "Okay."
"No drugs or alcohol. No smoking, no leaving the party early and certainly no hotels." Blair continues, "Don't forget; your father has many contacts and--"
"I wouldn't put it past you to breathalyze me the second I step through the door." Evelyn rolls her eyes, tapping her foot impatiently. "No speaking to strangers, no accepting lifts with boys. Never leave my drink unattended, never stray away from my friends. Always remember that I am a lady, and that certain things are expected of me, and try make sure that Lola Archibald remembers the same, because Aunt Serena's genes are bound to kick in any day now and God help Uncle Nate when they do."
She pauses, takes a deep breath, before grinning up at her mother and asking wryly. "Did I forget anything?"
Blair shakes her head, smiling indulgently as Evelyn laughs and twirls around, raising an eyebrow expectantly.
"Well, how do I look?"
Blair takes a few seconds to examine her daughter's appearance, taking in the short hemline of her purple Chanel dress while approvingly at the high neckline and smirking as she sees the towering heels she's wearing.
"Genetics getting you down?" She asks knowingly.
Evelyn frowns, "Lola's getting on for six foot now, Mom, and that's without heels. I barely break five-three. I'm just... evening the playing field."
"Height isn't everything." Blair promises, smoothing down a stray curl that had fallen down from her daughter's intricate bun. When her daughter still looks unconvinced she sighs and acquiesces. "Just don't come crying to me when you break your neck in those things."
"Duly noted." Evelyn looks at the clock worriedly and then at the closed door of her father's office. "Can I go now? Justin's already terrified of Daddy, and they've been in there for awhile now..."
"Go and save your date." Blair looks on proudly as Evelyn rushes to do just that, moving flawlessly in her too-high heels.
"Try not to look too proud that she's decided to emulate her mother's style down to that very headband." Chuck says in her ear, coming up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist tightly, "I'd really rather you didn't encourage her."
He frowns as they watch Evelyn's date help her into her coat and scowls when said date's hand doesn't move from her lower back once both coat and scarf are firmly in place.
Chuck clears his throat. Loudly. The hand drops so quickly the poor boy almost dislocates his shoulder.
Not that he cares, of course. The kid was warned.
"What did you say to him?" Blair asks quietly as the elevator doors close on the teenagers and their last view was of the two teens standing about five feet apart from each other.
"Nothing." He replies, smirking at the memory of the almost-quivering teenage boy. "Nothing at all."
Two small bodies emerge from Chuck's office, unbeknownst to the married couple who were now kissing passionately in the middle of the foyer, and go in search of their older brother.
"Lucas." Tiffany crawls onto her older brother's lap, eyes wide and face innocent. "What does dis - dismember mean?"
"And why does Daddy want to do it to Evie's friend?" Matthew adds, looking puzzled as Lucas begins to blink rapidly as he attempts to come up with a reasonable explanation that was suitable for five and seven year old ears.
You make her cry, I make you cry
"At least let me get him deported," Chuck pleads, glaring at his wife of over twenty years as he paces their bedroom. "I hear Alaska is nice this time of year."
"No." Blair replies, flipping the page of her magazine and rolling her eyes at her husband's antics.
"Enlisted? The army is good for young boys. Helps them to learn boundaries."
He clenches his fists at the thought of what boundaries the Vanderbilt boy might have already crossed. With his daughter.
Blair snorts, "You're forgetting of course that all girls love men in uniform. I'm sure you've used the 'I'm shipping out tomorrow, and, baby, I don't know what's gonna happen to me' excuse in your time." She finishes dramatically, one hand held over her heart as she mimes being choked-up with unshed tears.
He glowers at her. "You need to stop watching so many Ben Affleck movies."
She just rolls her eyes and puts down the magazine, crawling to the end of their King size bed and patting down on a spot on the mattress in front of her. He reluctantly sits, and she slowly begins to massage his tense shoulders. "Look, Chuck, Evelyn's just upset. They had a fight – it happens."
"He made her cry." He bites out stubbornly.
"She's sixteen." Blair points out. "She still cries when Beth dies at the end of Little Women."
"Exactly. She's just a kid. She's not old enough to date."
Blair sighs in exasperation. "I was twelve when I first started dating. You were eleven when you and 'she-who-should-not-be-named' hooked up."
"Again with the movie references. Seriously, Blair?"
"I have two kids under the age of ten; I have Harry Potter on the brain." She defends, "But that is besides the point – Evie is sixteen now, you can't keep her wrapped in cotton wool forever. She's a smart girl – she'll learn that it's not the end of the world just because she has a fight with her boyfriend."
"He's not her boyfriend." Chuck mumbles, relaxing under her expert fingers.
"You weren't my boyfriend until I was eighteen, doesn't mean I never loved you before that."
"That was different. We'd been through a lot more."
"And if it's truly meant to be; so will they. But that can't happen if you hire a hitman every time he screws up and hurts her." She points out, kissing the nape of his neck softly before saying teasingly, "Besides, Evie would never forgive you if you killed him before she gets to put her great revenge into motion."
He perks up slightly, "Revenge?"
"Apparently, Lucas has agreed to make sure the boys corridor is empty between twelve-oh-three and twelve-oh-seven PM tomorrow morning. Leaving Lola and Evie more than enough time to plant certain prohibited substances in a certain locker."
Chuck looks at her blankly, "And you know this how?"
Blair smirks, "I'm afraid I can't possibly reveal my sources."
The next morning, as Justin Vanderbilt is frogmarched from the school premises, Chuck Bass stands in wait, leaning casually against the door of his sleek black limousine,
"Mr. Bass." Justin stutters. "What – what are you doing here?"
Chuck just smirks and opens the door, indicating that Justin should get in. "I'll make sure he gets home safely." He assures the two teachers. "He and I are way overdue for a chat anyway." He claps Justin on the back, eyes daring him to disagree.
"Y – yes, sir." Justin says nervously, mentally cursing his luck.
Safe sex is a myth. Anything you try will be hazardous to your health
"Hey, Mr. Bass. Luke."
Chuck narrows his eyes at the boy who was slouched in front of them wearing a smirk to rival his own. "Westley, isn't it?"
"I prefer Wes, actually." Wes corrects, still smirking.
Lucas snorts, muttering to himself. "Sure thing, Wuss."
The three remain silent; the noise of their breathing the only thing to be heard until Blair entered the room, smiling breezily.
Wes straightens up, whistling softly. "Mrs. B! I certainly see who Eve takes after." He winks, looking her form-fitting red dress over appreciatively.
Blair gives him a look of utmost distaste, even as she says somewhat politely. "Thank you. Evelyn should be down in a moment."
"And it's Mrs. Bass." Chuck corrects, glaring daggers as he slips a protective arm around his wife. "Actually."
"Luke, darling, will you please help me with some boxes in the kitchen?" Blair asks, trying the diffuse the tense situation. "They're rather heavy, and I'd rather not risk the chance of breaking my china if I dropped one."
Lucas nods and follows his mother into the kitchen, frowning over his shoulder at Wes as he goes.
"So..." Wes sticks his hands in his pockets and rolls back and forth on his heels, looking uncomfortable for the first time as he is left alone under Chuck's withering stare.
"Where are you and Evelyn going tonight?" Chuck asks finally.
Wes answers easily. "Just to the school dance. Nothing but candy hearts and paper-chains, I promise."
"Oh? No after-parties?"
"A few. But Evelyn told me that she had a curfew so we obviously won't be going."
A hint of a smirk is still on his face and Chuck resists the urge to kick him out – his daughter would be furious, as would her mother – instead taking pleasure in wiping all traces of smugness off of his features.
"Good, I guess you wont be needing that hotel room you booked then."
Wes pales, and Chuck's eyes glint dangerously.
"It would be in your best interests tonight to remember that before there were Westley Jacobs' in the world, there were Chuck Basses. And I consider it my business to make absolutely sure that my daughter doesn't come into contact with either. So, you and Eve will go to this dance tonight, and then you will drop her straight back home again. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir." Wes nods, paling even more as Evelyn came down the stairs, Dorota at her heels.
"You look lovely, darling." Chuck says sweetly, planting a kiss on her forehead as he gives Wes yet another warning glare. "Doesn't she, Westley?"
Wes just gulps.
Bring her home late, there's no next date
"And what time do you call this?"
Evelyn winces as her father's booming voice echoes down the staircase. Her date shudders beside her, having been well-versed in the protective nature of Chuck Bass prior to their leaving the house that night.
Another voice adds a scathing remark from not-so-far away, and Evelyn can't help but roll her eyes at her elder brother's choice of wording as he claps his friend on the shoulder before retreating up to his room, safe in the knowledge that his baby sister had returned home safe and sound and that he didn't have to strangle one of his best friends.
"Nice knowing ya, Jake." didn't do much to instill confidence in either her nor in Jacob Levy, a senior who had finally worked up the courage to ask her out after having a crush on her for many years.
Now her father is coming into view, and she can't help but sigh as she ponders what might have been, had Jake not acted like an imbecile.
"Daddy!" She bats her eyes, pouting dramatically as she rushes to embrace her father who welcomes her with open arms, even with a face that was darker than night. "It was awful, Jake's limo broke down in the middle of the nowhere and it took forever to get it working again. I'm so sorry that we didn't call, but my cell died and Jake forgot his at the party."
A few meters away her mother is stifling a snort, but her father laps it up; kissing her forehead as he eyes Jacob malevolently. "Middle of nowhere?" Was the first question he poses, speaking in that tone of voice Evelyn knows sends most men quaking to their knees.
"Well," Jake splutters, "I wouldn't exactly call Brooklyn the middle of--"
She can't help but grimace as the quivering eighteen year old unwittingly broke the cardinal rule; never argue with Chuck Bass.
Jake was going down, and she was gonna make damn sure that she wasn't going down with him.
She pulls on her father's sleeve, silently thanking God that she had decided to wear flats that evening as her lack of stature made her look even more delicate and fragile. "It's all my fault that we're late, Daddy. We were going to hail a cab but I remembered what you said about them being full of germs and parasites, and I really didn't want to risk getting sick this close to exams--"
That, and she hadn't worn her brand new silk dress tonight only to have it soiled by sitting in a cab in Brooklyn.
"--and so we decided to wait for the driver to fix it. I had no idea it would take so long, otherwise I would have found some other way to get home." Evelyn finishes her spiel with another bat of her lashes, biting her lip as she gazes at her father adoringly. "I'm sorry."
He smiles down at her gently, "It's alright, sweetheart. You must be exhausted, you should get to bed."
She beams up at him, "Okay, Daddy." She reaches up on her toes and plants a kiss atop his cheek, giving Jake an apologetic look over her shoulder as she abandons him to face Armageddon alone.
She meets Lucas on the stairs, winking at him as he glowers at her. He folds his arms across his chest as he moves to stand beside his very much amused mother.
"She's totally playing him, you know?" Lucas can't help but complain. "If it was me who was home almost two hours late – breakdown or no – I'd be grounded. For weeks."
Blair doesn't reply, merely places her hand on his shoulder and steers him away as the shouting begins. She sits him down on a stool at the counter and gives her sulking son a knowing smirk as she hands him a spoon. She takes out a tub of Ben and Jerry's finest, and sets it in front of him, taking a spoon herself as they both dig in.
"Not fair," he mumbles through a mouthful of chocolate.
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be dropping off a package, because you're sure as hell not picking anything up
"Chuck Bass, please speak to your daughter." Blair huffs, entering the room and looking exasperated. "She's refusing to wear the pink dress my mother picked out for her."
He raises an eyebrow, "You mean that monstrosity you said looked like a piece of cotton candy?"
"The very same," she assures him, flopping down onto the sofa with said dress in her hands. "And usually I would respect her wishes; fashion is very personal, you understand, but my mother is adamant that we attend her ridiculous brunch today and I'll never hear the end of it if that dress doesn't make an appearance at least once this season."
She looks beseeching at her eldest daughter, holding the dress out hopefully. "Tiffany adores your opinion, Evie, maybe you could try and convince her?"
Evelyn wrinkles her nose up at the layers of pink taffeta that were on display. "I could, but I won't. That thing's hideous, mom. No sister of mine is going out in public wearing it."
"You're adopted," Lucas tells her casually, flipping a page in his book. "She's not your real sister. Now will you make her wear the damn dress?"
"Lucas!" Blair admonishes, a small smile playing across her lips as Matthew snickers and gives his older brother a high five.
Evelyn just glowers at her older brother. "If anyone in this family is adopted, it's you, Luke, seeing as how you're the only blond in a room full of brunettes. How else would you explain that?"
"Bad luck?" Chuck ventures, wincing as his wife throws a cushion at him.
"Firstly, my hair isn't blond," Lucas informs her coolly. "It's a very light brown. And secondly, you're just jealous because unlike you, I inherited mom's perfect curls, and you got stuck with hair that is half-way in between."
"You may have a pretty face," Evelyn grants sourly, "but unlike everyone else in this family, you don't have the brains to back it up."
Lucas rolls his eyes, waving his half-finished book at her. "And that's why I'm sitting here reading Hamlet while you're primping in the mirror. Excellent point, dear sister."
Chuck interrupts what would have most likely been a scathing reply from his eldest daughter, saying firmly, "None of you were adopted. Ask your mother if you don't believe me. She went through the pain of giving birth to you all--"
"Yes," Lucas agrees wryly, "And we've been hearing about it ever since."
Blair gasps in indignation, looks around for an object to throw at her son, and finally hurls the dress at him in lieu of a cushion.
"Ripped it," Lucas informs her, examining the torn dress with interest before handing it to his younger sister who has just entered the room, "Here you go, Tiff, an excuse not to wear it."
Tiffany looks thrilled, running to hug her brother before turning to her mother, "Does this mean that I can wear the dress that Grandpa Roman sent me from Paris?"
Blair looks resigned, "Do, if you want. My mother's never liked me anyway, why change the habit of a lifetime?"
"Thank you, Mommy!"
"Really, Blair, you might have dressed her in that lovely pink dress I bought – purple simply does nothing for her complexion." Eleanor complains, frowning down at her youngest grandchild and taking a sip of wine.
Blair scowls, pulling the peak of her straw-hat further down her forehead in an attempt to ward off the heat of the Hampton's sun, "She takes after her father, Mother, purple does wonders for her complexion."
"Speaking of whom," Cyrus looks around the garden with interest, "Where is Charles?"
An annoyed Evelyn and a livid Chuck come into view a split second after he posed the question, the former clutching the latter's hand tightly.
"But, Daddy," Evelyn complains, "Everyone has sports cars nowadays. And who cares if it was red?"
He glowers, saying through gritted teeth as he reclaims his seat next to Matthew. "Yes, but not all of them are the descendants of British Lords, Evelyn."
Blair raises a perfectly sculpted brow at her husband, silently questioning.
"He honked, Blair." Chuck tells her firmly, "Honked. There's no way she's leaving with him."
Evelyn pouts, folding her arms across her chest.
No complaining while you're waiting for her. If you're bored, change my oil
"At least yours wears proper clothing," Nate grits out, glaring at the first of the two boys who were shifting uncomfortably in front of them, "Lola has yet to discover the meaning of the word modesty."
Chuck is busy giving the second the evil eye, "You married Serena van der Woodson, what do you expect? Just be grateful in the knowledge that she'll eventually settle down and marry someone like you. Someone respectable that calms her down. If Evie's anything like her mother, my daughter will end up marrying someone who encourages her to be bad."
Nate blanches, recalling just how long it had taken for him to calm Serena down. Chuck continues mercilessly,
"And this is only the start, you know. They're only just seventeen. We still have years left of this. Senior Year, College, Spring Breaks..."
"Graduation," Nate breathes, "The Snowflake Ball. Prom Night."
Chuck nods grimly at his best friend, "And everything else in between. I'm telling you Nathaniel – it's only going to get worse. We need to be prepared."
A ghost of a smirk appears on Chuck's face, "Well, we're not about to make it easy on the bastards now, are we?" As if to prove his point, he moves closer to the two boys who were looking more and more nervous as time went on. "No talking!" He orders. "My youngest daughter's only just gone to sleep – if you two wake her up with your mindless chatter there'll be hell to pay."
Nate nods in agreement, adding for good measure, "And stop fidgeting, you're wearing a hole in my carpet."
"Kids these days," Chuck says disgustedly, not even bothering to drop his voice, "absolutely no manners."
"I blame the parents." Nate replies, choosing to ignore the fact that his youngest son was catapulting himself at Chuck's youngest son in an attempt to play 'pirates', and turns a deaf ear to the profanities that were escaping both of their mouths.
Serena titters from behind the two over-protective fathers, folding her arms across her chest and looking between the two incredulously. "You two sound like a pair of old codgers. Kids these days? God, Chuck. Twenty years ago you were their age!"
She turns to her husband, poking him in the chest accusingly. "And you! You say you blame the parents, and yet your son is right this very second trying to drive a poker from the fire into your nephew's stomach!"
Nate and Chuck both blink,
"Daniel! Stop that!" yells Nate.
"Matt, if you're going to allow your cousin to do such things, could you maybe wait until your mother comes home?" chastises Chuck, "Your mother won't be particularly amused if she hears that you got yourself impaled on a piece of rusty metal on my watch."
The boys stop playing, each saying sheepishly and in perfect unison to their respective fathers, "Sorry, Dad."
Serena clears her throat.
"Sorry, Mom." Wyatt hastens to add, "Won't do it again."
"Sorry, Aunt Serena." Matthew repeats.
"And?" Serena prompts, folding her arms across her chest.
Matthew smirks, his cherubic, eight-year-old face the mirror image of his father's at that age. "I promise not to do it again." She looks satisfied, until he adds something under his breath that causes Wyatt to burst out laughing and Serena's face to harden.
"Bed, now! Both of you."
She glowers at her husband and her brother as she follows the dejected boys out of the room, "If you two spent half as much time disciplining your children as you did their dates, this house would be a whole lot quieter."
"You think she has a point?" Nate asks.
Chuck contemplates it for a few seconds, "Probably."
Evelyn's date glances at his watch, and then back towards the staircase. Nate and Chuck exchange a meaningful look, before pouncing on the poor boy.
"I'm sorry, are we boring you?"
"If you'd prefer, we could find something for you to do..."
"Those were two of my favorite suits, Aunt Serena." Lucas grits out, watching as his sister and his cousin left with the boys wearing them. "They were very expensive."
"Blame your father and your uncle," Serena replies wearily, sighing at the two ruined tuxedos that were laying in front of them on the table. "What they were thinking, setting the two boys to do manual labor twenty minutes before a ball, I'll never know."
Lucas groans, "How long is it until Mom gets back from Paris?"
"Too long." His father replies, looking apologetically at his son and ignoring his sister's glare as he enters the room. "Don't worry, I already called the tailor's. They're expecting you at noon tomorrow."
"And?" Lucas prompts, much the same way his Aunt had done an hour earlier.
Chuck sighs, "I'll talk to your mother about letting you and your friends take the jet to Hawaii for a few weeks next summer instead of coming to the Hamptons with us like usual."
If your pants hang off your hips, I'll gladly secure them with my staple gun
"You can not be serious."
Lucas stifles a smirk as he tries to gage which of his parents is more appalled – his mother or his father. Or indeed, which is more likely to start screaming in indignation at any given second.
"Evelyn, please tell me that there has been some mistake." Blair says, and it is more a plea then it is a request.
"Don't be ridiculous, Blair." Chuck snaps, "Of course it's a mistake. There's no way that our daughter would possibly consider going out with the likes of... that."
"With the likes of what, Daddy?" Evelyn asks, a tinge of steel to her voice. "Dawson is a straight A student, he's just below me on the honor role, you know."
"As long as he's not on top of you," Lucas mutters before he can stop himself, wincing as the full force of his father's glare is inflicted upon him.
"You're not going out with him." Blair informs her daughter firmly, eying the boy who was, thankfully, out of earshot with the utmost of distaste. "He's entirely unsuitable."
"Why, Mom? Because he wears jeans and sweatshirts, instead of Armani suits?"
Blair replies unashamedly, "Yes, that is exactly why! Is that a beanie hat atop his head? And those shoes, God, I'd nearly rather you date a Humphrey!"
"Evelyn," Chuck asks tersely, "What is Dawson's surname?"
"Ronsson." She admits, rolling her eyes as her parents faces immediately drop.
Lucas makes a disparaging sound, "As in Grandma Lily's secret love-child's kid? Evie, you're practically related to him!"
"Not by blood, moron. And not really by marriage either. Besides, if Aunt Serena could date Dan Humphrey even after they found out that Dawson's dad existed, I'm sure it's fine." Evelyn defends herself, shrugging on her coat.
"He doesn't seem like your type." Blair attempts to reason with her daughter, scowling when her husband cuts in.
"Type? She does not have a type. She's far too young to have a type."
"Mom, I've already dated both a Vanderbilt and a Whitney before, and all of the other boys from prominent families are immature and classless. It's time I broadened the playing field. So I'm going out with Dawson, whether you guys like it or not." Evelyn raises an eyebrow, waits for a few seconds for her either parents or her brother to pose any further argument, before nodding in satisfaction.
"Great. I really didn't want to have to fight you guys on this one. Romeo and Juliet is so last year."
It ends a week later, to no ones surprise. But what is a surprise is Evelyn's reaction to it all;
"I'm done with boys! Forever! God, even low-rent, walking fashion disasters from Brooklyn are jerks!"
It also comes to no ones surprise – but very much her father's dismay – when three months later Evelyn is madly in love with Calvin Baizen.
"Evelyn Baizen has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
Dates must be in crowded public places. You want romance? Read a book
"Mommy, why is Dorota crying?" Tiffany asks, peering across the room to where Dorota is indeed sobbing into a handkerchief. "Are she and Vanya sad that James got married?"
"No, of course not, sweetie. She just gets sentimental at times. All mother's cry at their children's weddings." Blair replies, waving to the happy couple who were both beaming and clutching each other tightly.
"Oh." Tiffany turns to her grandmother who was sitting across from her. "Grandma, did you cry when Mommy married Daddy?"
"Yes," Chuck smirks, "but they were tears of fury – not sentimentality."
"Charles!" Eleanor admonishes, glowering at her son-in-law. "That is most certainly not true, as well you know."
Chuck just raises an eyebrow as she stands up and leaves in a huff, he turns to his wife of many years and requests a dance. Blair agrees, instructing her daughter to stay close to her brother. They take to the dance floor, quickly commandeering the attention of many people in the room while their youngest child looks on in envy.
"Matt," she whines. "I wanna dance."
He doesn't look up from the hand-held computer game that he had brought with him, unbeknownst to his parents. "Mom said to stay here."
"No, she said to stay with you." She corrects, "It's fine if you come with me. Please?"
"No, Tiff. I'm busy. Make Evie or Lola take you."
She pouts, "Lola's with her friends and I can't see Evie anywhere."
Tiffany drops back into her seat with a sigh, folding her arms across her chest and looking out for someone to take pity on her. She quickly spies her older brother with a blond girl across the room, and makes a break for it, ignoring Matthew's cry of disapproval. Groaning, he quickly shuts his game and hides it in his coat pocket, draping the coat over his seat before running after his sister. He finds her clinging onto their brother while his "girlfriend" looks on in dismay.
"Mommy said that I had to stay with Matt, but he won't come and dance with me." Tiffany complains, sticking out her tongue at her Matthew as she cuddles closer to Lucas. "Will you take me?"
Lucas sighs, looking resigned. "I suppose. Sorry, Madison," he glances at the blond, "I guess I'll call you later?"
"Really?" She looks hopeful.
He mulls it over, before shrugging. "No. Probably not."
She glares at him, muttering under her breath as she stomps off. "Jerk."
"That was mean." Matthew says matter-of-factly. "If you didn't like her, why did you bring her?"
Lucas smirks, "For the same reason that you brought your game, kid. Entertainment."
Blair smiles, resting her head on her husband's shoulder as they sway to the music. "I love this song."
Chuck plants a kiss on her forehead, saying softly as he brings her body closer to his. "I love you."
"Weddings really do bring out your romantic side, don't they?" She muses, her mouth widening further as she sees her children talking and laughing a few meters away. She frowns, as she realizes that one is missing. "Chuck, have you seen Evelyn at all since we arrived?"
His face darkens slightly, "Last I saw she was with that Baizen kid."
"Don't be like that, he's nice, Chuck. You just need to get to know him a little better."
"He's Carter's son – I know him plenty. At least the Vanderbilt was easy to manipulate; unfortunately, Baizens are actually pretty crafty." His jaw tightens, and he continues grumbling under his breath.
Blair just sighs, "You say that now, but pretty soon you'll realize that he truly cares for her."
At that moment, two flushed, red-faced teenagers arrive into the room, escorted by hotel security.
"Chuck," Blair says warningly. "What did you do?"
"What?" He replies innocently, "I was just making sure that he didn't coerce her into sneaking off somewhere alone with him. If she's going to insist on dating him, she's doing it in public."
Blair sighs, shaking her head. "You're going to be ten times worse when it's Tiffany's turn, aren't you?"
He glowers, "Tiffany is not going to have a turn. We're sending her to Catholic school." His face brightens. "Maybe she'll even be open to the idea of becoming a nun."
She shakes her head, resting her head on his shoulder once again, and says wryly. "I love you, Chuck, even if you are an over-protective Basshole."
He just smirks, eying his daughters lovingly as they begin to dance together further across the room; Evelyn moving with agility and grace, and Tiffany attempting to copy her moves.
"I love you too." His gaze moves to his sons who were whispering in the corner, before back to his two daughters, finally resting on his wife. "All of you."