A/N: Second fic that's beta-ed in history. I'm personally not too proud of the ending. I think its lame and unoriginal, but I have feed back that its good so make your own decision, but be kind because I am fragile.
Summary: He really wondered what he was missing. It was only after he finished vomiting in the bathroom that he realized how bad he still had it for her.
Disclaimer: Story just came from the mystery that is my brain. The characters are not mine, though. Deal with it.
"I'm still in love with you."
It just slipped out. She smelled so deliciously of gin and freedom. Her laughter was infectious and it was hard to ignore that glinting diamond on her finger. That diamond that wasn't from him. But it should have been. He wasn't the marrying type. And that was what he tried to convince himself every time he was with her now.
It didn't work. Trying to be friends with her after everything wasn't working. Another thing he was fooling himself with. They would scheme but without the ending he wished they could really have. The endings they used to have when psychos tried to destroy best friends and soon-to-be step sisters. There were drinks without inebriated kisses and there were laughs of gossip across the room. But it wasn't the way it used to be. They were feigning friends and he couldn't do it anymore.
He looked at the bar where they sat. He couldn't look into her face. He knew she would probably slap his off. Bachelorette parties were long over but they were still drinking. Serena had taken the girls home and Blair had actually called him. He wanted to think that she was having second thoughts. But he had never seen her happy the way she was.
His shot a sidelong glance across the top to see her knuckles white from clenching her martini glass. His eyes raked up and met her eyes. It was always her eyes.
They were wide but he couldn't figure them out. She put her glass down and he felt as thought there was no other sound in the bar.
"What are you doing?"
Her voice was in a soft rasp and reality was suddenly hitting her. He wasn't going to back down. He had been passive this entire time but he couldn't watch her just do this.
"Blair," he started.
"No," she snapped, throwing herself from her chair. "What are you doing?"
"I had to say it," he said, his voice receding, knowing that she wasn't taking this well. "It may be weird for you, but you have to hear it."
"No," she said. "No. What are you doing?" He stood still, watching her shake on her feet.
"How could you do this?" she demanded in a hardened whisper. "How could you ruin us?"
"You're the one who's getting married," he said darkly, rising to his feet.
"Don't do that," she told him.
"What am I supposed to do?" he demanded. "Pretend that I still don't--"
"Don't say it," she warned, fending him off with her hand.
"You have to know, Blair."
"We were fine," she said. "We were finally being friends. We weren't... complicated."
"But we weren't together."
She was shaking her head and he was beginning to feel sick.
"I can't do this," she said, starting to back away.
"No," he said, reaching for her.
"It was better when we were pretending," she said, pulling away from his grasp.
"Then say it," he said. "Say you don't still feel the same."
He tried his best to ignore her tears but he couldn't.
"I can't," was all she said.
And then she was gone.
Blair had ordered her mother and employees out hours ago. She was still staring at her reflection in the mirror of her dressing room table. The delicate white lace that hung of her frame just felt wrong. Her ring felt wrong and she knew the heavier ring she was about to don would feel even more wrong.
Her pale hands were shaking towards her even paler complexion. That diamond was suddenly ugly. She couldn't look at herself anymore. She stood up weakly and turned around.
She hadn't seen him in the mirror. She hadn't known that he would be standing right there. But like an apparition he was there. He said nothing. He just looked.
"What are you doing here?" she asked uncertainly.
"As far as I'm concerned, I was still invited," he said darkly. And she knew he hadn't come without some liquid courage. No more than she had however, she was sure. Just a shot of Jack and she was ready. Apparently, he was as well.
"Chuck..." she said, not able to drive him away this time. Before she could even finish, he clasped his hands around her cinched waist, pressing her gently against the table. His lips were fire on hers and she didn't for a second have to wonder what she forgot that allowed her to stay so far away. If she had even recalled some of the heat that was coursing between them, she was sure there wouldn't be a detrimental ring on her finger.
He pulled away, his dark eyes undecipherable. Her rubbed his hands on her bare arms. She looked as goosebumps rose. She just couldn't feel anymore.
"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. He jerked away as though he had been burned. She looked up into his face. And she couldn't see him anymore.
"So am I."
It was the last thing he said to her.
Then he was gone.
For two years, he was gone.
When she walked into a room, everyone turned to watch her in those tight fitting black dresses. The casinos in Las Vegas were no different. But for the first time, he wasn't among the masses. Two years did a lot of difference but when it came to Blair Waldorf, he knew it would make her even more euphoric than usual. He would know this if he had been watching.
Serena's shotgun wedding should have told him she would be coming. But then again, it was still two years. Instead, he was playing craps like some common gambler. It was a game that the most normal gamblers played. Right now, he just needed to be normal.
He was normal. The normal hooker hanging off him because she sensed he would have a big pay day wasn't any different. The Armani suit he was wearing might have been a tip off but then again, he was "slightly" tipsy.
He should have felt the tremor in the room. He was concentrating. He took the red dice in his clenched fist when scarlet nails covered it. He stared at the left hand that donned no ring. There wasn't even a tan line of the fourth finger of the hand he hadn't seen in two years. But he knew that porcelain skin from anywhere and he just couldn't understand.
Blair's hand slid from his and his eyes scanned up her provocative body to her playful smirk. He couldn't help but stare. She cocked her head and he knew that she was playing with him. She was always best at the game. And he had no idea why.
Her graceful fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling it up. He opened his hand to reveal the dice. She brought it up to her face and he held his breath. Her ruby and inviting lips pursued and she blew on the dice. She let him go as he stared. The dealer was looking at him expectantly and he exhaled.
He let the dice roll across the table. The cheers from the crowd dimmed in his head as he looked at her satisfied expression.
"You were always lucky," she said sweetly. Her hand slid from his shoulder and he watched her walk into the crowd.
He really wondered what he was missing. It was only after he finished vomiting in the bathroom that he realized how bad he still had it for her.
His best friend's blue eyes look worried.
"No what?" Chuck asked, knocking back this nth glass of scotch.
"You know what," Nate said sternly. "You two weren't supposed to be in the same city today. Or every again."
"Why not?" Chuck asked. He smirked. "She's not married anymore."
"That's exactly why," Nate said. "You tear each other apart."
"It's worth it," Chuck said. "Trust me."
"I really don't want to," Nate cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"She came to me."
"She came on to you?" Nate asked in surprise.
"Yes," Chuck smirked. He paused thoughtfully. "Well, no."
"You are so drunk," Nate laughed.
"I was when I kissed her last," Chuck said, more to himself.
"Chuck," Nate shook his head.
"She's not married anymore," Chuck said firmly.
"Neither are you but that doesn't mean you should go completely insane. I'm trying to look out for you, man," Nate said nervously.
"Do you think she still wants me?"
"I wasn't aware we suddenly transformed into junior high teenage girls," Nate said.
"We don't talk about this," Chuck said.
"It doesn't really work out well when we do."
"You mean I steal your girlfriend after she dumps you at Prom."
"This is what she does to you," Nate said.
"Did she ever make you feel that way?"
"Insane?" Nate asked. He was glad when Chuck actually laughed. He watched his friend drag his hair through his dark hair.
"Yes," he answered honestly.
"Is that what you want?" Nate asked.
"Well she's insane in bed," Chuck smirked.
"I'm sure," Nate rolled his eyes.
"You would know," Chuck said darkly.
"Yeah," Nate replied. "I really remember those short 15 minutes that night after Cotillion."
"And the countless numbers of nights before Prom," Chuck said in annoyance, though hiding the satisfaction that he could obviously work her better than her supposed soul mate.
"No," Nate shook his head slowly.
"What do you mean 'no?'" Chuck asked, interest piqued.
"She didn't want to," Nate said, uncomfortable under Chuck's scrutiny.
"Because..." Chuck prodded.
"Because she was in love with you," Nate said. "It makes sense now."
"Yes it does," Chuck said. Nate sighed.
"Be careful," he warned. "Don't let her castrate you in your sleep."
"Assuming she'll be there," Chuck muttered.
"She will be," Nate said without thinking. Chuck looked up in surprise. "Its obvious."
"What is?" Chuck fished sort of wishing Nate didn't have a twin that was suddenly smarter than him.
"Go and find out," Nate replied.
Blair wiped her palms on her form fitting little black dress as she approached the knock at the door of her hotel room. She didn't need to check. She knew who was standing there.
"How did you find me?"
"You would be surprised what the Bass name means, even here," Chuck said, pushing past her. She knew how drunk he was. It had become a talent of hers. She wasn't much better.
Blair closed the door behind them, leaning against it. She titled her head to the side, thrill spinning up her spine as his eyes hesitated at her bare thighs. He licked his lips and her breath halted.
"Tell me what you're doing here," Chuck said, advancing her.
"Am I not allowed in your city?" she asked mockingly. He took her left hand in his, examining her fourth finger.
"Divorces are pricey nowadays," he murmured.
"Not a problem for me," she said.
"Sorry I couldn't make it," she replied. "I couldn't handle it. Seeing you... with someone else."
"Now you know how I felt."
"I always did," she said, letting the distance melt away between them. "And I'm sorry."
"Good," he said, brushing her hair away. His grip tightened around her hair. "Don't let it happen again."
"Yes?" he asked.
"I was the person who was supposed to be in power, here."
"I know," he said. "But that was what the divorce was for."
"No," she said. "That was so I could be with the one I really wanted."
"Who?" he demanded.
"I didn't get divorced because of you," she told him. "But I did get divorced for you."
He gripped her dress and her breath left her body again.
"And you'll get married for me."
"Who says I'll have you?" she sneered. He pressed his lips against hers and the taste of scotch seared down her throat. He licked the gin off his lips.
"I want your love," he bit into her neck. "I don't want to be friends."
"Who says we are?" she asked, snapping off the light and pushing him back. "As long as you're done with your hookers."
"Are you done with your spouse?" he asked.
"Are you?" she shot back.
"For you," he replied. "Always."
"Good," she said. "Because I don't want that to happen again."
She was insane. He remembered. At least, he thought he did. If he had remembered it to this degree, he never would have left her before the wedding. He would have taken her right there, against the mirror. She was insane and his vision spotted with colors he had never seen before.
"Sorry," she whispered.
"What about?" he asked sitting up, watching her huddled with the sheets drawn around her bare shoulders.
"I haven't... done that in awhile."
Chuck reached forward, undoing the make-shift shawl she made around her. She shrank away from his yearning grasp.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
"I'm afraid of being without you for any longer," she said with quiet admittance.
"To me," he told her. "You are perfect."
She moved closer to his warm grasp.
"I haven't..." she said. "Not since..."
"You don't know how you make me shake for you," he growled into her hair. She put her hand softly to his stomach laced with hair. She let it travel lower. He tremored.
"You make me shake too."
"That's all I ask for."
"That wasn't all you asked," she reminded him.
"That was just a line," he said tauntingly.
"Right," she said, turning away.
"I thought you wouldn't have me."
"Marriage isn't something to be taken lightly," she said, more to herself.
"Didn't seem that way two years ago."
"I thought we were just friends then."
"We could never just be friends," he said.
He was still aware of her shaking, under the impression that she suddenly had the talent for being terrifically bad in bed.
There it was. His Queen Bitch sneering at him. He had missed her so.
"You make me insane," he clarified. "Every night for the rest of my life, you would gladly have you make me insane. It's insane that you think you're anything but mine. And it's insane the way you touch me."
She looked down and he realized he was making her embarassed.
"The only reason I even entertained the notion of marrying him was because I thought I couldn't have you," she clarified. "I thought you wanted this... friends thing."
"It killed me every day to see you with him."
"It killed me to read your wedding invitation," she whispered.
"I guess we're on the same page them," he said, smirking sardonically.
"You like the way I touch you?" she asked quietly, stretching out across the vast bed. He joined her position, stroking her sweat soaked skin. She shivered.
"How you could think you would actually be bad after all this time..." he shook his head.
"So..." she said, sliding sensually nearer to him. "You're glad that I blew on your dice this evening?"
"Glad doesn't even cover it," he replied. "You took me by surprise. You always take be by surprise."
"Have you missed me?"
"Show me," she said huskily, in a manner she could only pick up from him.
"I'll show you all night," he promised her. "And every night after."
It was a promise. She would gladly perish from insanity.