A/N: This started as a Buffy fic but then I just read Much Ado About Nothing so it has mad Shakespeare references.

Summary: Sometimes that's how people relate—being mean to each other. Even mortal enemies. And that leads to no good absolutely no good. And much confusion. And then it's over. Absolutely, seriously, definitely over. And that's confusing too. The over part. Which it is—over.

Disclaimer: Quotes come from Buffy and from Much Ado About Nothing (Act IV Scene I.) This is sort of a prelude to a Chair/Beatrice-Benedick fic that I'm about to do. You have been forwarned.

Sometimes that's how people relate—being mean to each other. Even mortal enemies. And that leads to no good absolutely no good. And much confusion. And then it's over. Absolutely, seriously, definitely over. And that's confusing too. The over part. Which it is—over.


Sometimes that's how people relate—being mean to each other. Even mortal enemies.

Blair Waldorf's favorite Shakespearean play had always been Romeo and Juliet. Years later, she would come to realize some truths, but her fourteen year old self sitting in freshman English was certain it was for one reason and one reason alone.

Love at first sight. Because when Blair was the little four year old being introduced to little Nathaniel Archibald, she just knew.

I remember the first time I saw him. Maybe we were just little kids but that's when I knew. That's the one I'm going to marry.

The one reason that Blair loved Romeo and Juliet was love at first sight even if she was thirteen and he was seventeen. Even the ridiculous potions and melodrama (because when was Blair Waldorf not melodramatic?). She loved fairytales and meeting the love of your life at that age instantly just made sense to her.

That was how she knew from the moment she met him, that she hated Charles Bartholomew Bass. She was small and while meeting the love of her life's best friend, something chemical just happened. She didn't know of retribution and manipulation yet, but she knew one thing. She hated Charles Bass.

It was the first day in kindergarten when he stole her headband and sneered at her, proclaiming that everyone should call him Chuck from now on that she knew she would hate him for the rest of her life.

And it should have happened that way.

She just didn't realize how much they were the same.

"I saw that, you know."

Fourteen year old Blair Waldorf put down Act II Scene I to role her eyes at the stupid boy that had just addressed her.

"Yes?" she asked as Chuck Bass's shadow hovered over her on the Met Steps. Without preamble, he took a seat next to her and she shifted away uncomfortably.

"I saw what you did," he reiterated. "To that girl Hazel's hair."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said innocently.

"She's never going to be able to grow that out."

She didn't like his snide tone as though he had something on her. Which technically, he totally did. She just stared at him, daring to say what she knew what he was going to.

"What do you think your precious Nathaniel will do when he finds out you made some girl cry by throwing a Nairtini at her?"

"He'll probably ask what that is," she said dully.

"That he will."

His eyes were probing her and she didn't like it. It was becoming uncomfortable for them both.

"Why are you reading this?" Chuck asked, changing the subject by picking it up.

"Because it's for school," Blair enunciated, just for him.

"Okay," he said admittedly. "Why do you like reading it?"

"Because it's romantic," she said dreamily.

"Romantic?" he asked. "They both die at the end."

"Please," she said, snatching the book away from him. "As though you've ever read it."

"When King Cophetua loved the beggar maid, he heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not," Chuck recited easily, as though second nature.

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound," Blair said back coolly, the play still closed in Chuck's hand.

"I just don't see the big deal," Chuck brushed her off. "You know they're going to die from the prologue."

"It's romantic because they instantly fall in love and are willing to give their lives for each other," she snapped.

"Romeo is the worst character in literature," Chuck said bluntly.

"How can you say that?" Blair gasped.

"Because he's an idiot," Chuck answered. "I would never get caught in that situation."

"No one would ever be foolish enough to fall in love with you," Blair rolled her eyes.

"That's probably because there's no one that's worth it," he shrugged.

"Right," Blair responded. "Because everyone is just dying to fall at your feet."

"My au pair certainly thought so," he grinned.

"Stop telling people that," Blair sneered. "It's an old story."

"Jealous?" he asked slyly.

"That you don't have a romantic bone in your body?" Blair asked. "Help me. My knees feel weak."

"You never thought to consider how much of a blunderer Romeo is?" Chuck says. "He admits it himself. Getting into a pointless fight just to get exiled. I would just have Paris and Tybult destroyed. It's easier and no one could trace it back to me."

"That's not as romantic," Blair said in frustration.

"You would want Nathaniel to get into a brawl in front of all society for you?" Chuck asked skeptically. "Please. You'd want him to behave himself if he were going to be seen in public with you."

"Why are you always talking to me?" Blair asked desperately. "Don't you have someone else to torture?"

"Probably," Chuck said nonchalantly, getting to his feet with a smirk. "But I choose you."

He started down the steps before hesitating.

"Why do you read it if the ending is so depressing?" he asked. Blair paused, actually thinking about it for a moment.

"I like the ending," she said slowly.

"Because it's so romantic?" he mocked.

"No," Blair said, surprised at her own answer. "There wasn't really any other way that it could have ended."

Chuck just shrugged and continued on his way. She looked in disgust as he checked out the upperclassmen girls that passed and she realized it. Maybe she didn't like it so much because of the romanticism. Maybe she just had a penchant for tragedy.

She was a fan of Othello.

And that leads to no good absolutely no good. And much confusion.

It wasn't really the first time that she had thought about it. Sitting in the back of that car, she didn't know what she was thinking. But she knew that it hadn't been the first time. Not the first time her stomach was full of warm churning and her blood sizzled. He had been looking at her with desire the entire car ride—something that she wasn't used to—and she knew that it wasn't the first time that he had done that either.

But this was the first time that she had realized it.

"What are you doing?"

"Undressing you with my eyes," Chuck shrugged indifferently. Blair stared at him at the bar while Nate was in the bathroom, undoubtedly getting high.

"What is wrong with you?"

"I haven't gotten laid today," Chuck shrugged again. He eyed her with the same expression he had before. "Want to help me with that?"

Before she could even think of rebuffing him, she was stopped.

"Hey guys," Nate coughed at his attempt to be casual. "What are you guys talking about?"

"About how I'm going to nail your girlfriend," Chuck announced. Nate just laughed and Blair glared.

She really hated him. She hated how Nate was around him. Like none of it mattered.

"What are you doing?"

This time, it hadn't been Blair who had asked. His hand had already dragged down the strap of her slip and he had already returned her kiss viciously. But she was shifting her leg over his and he was finally asking.

"What are you doing?"

His breath was hitting her hard against her neck and she knew this was stopping for no man. She shifted awkwardly, though, never able to suppress her insecurities.

And to be honest, she had no idea what she was doing.

"Let me."

Blair's limbs were frozen as he leaned her on her back, the smug smirk never leaving his face.

"Are you afraid?"

"I will never be afraid of you, Chuck Bass," she sneered defensively. Because he was totally taking advantage of her. Not that she didn't want it.

"Let's see what we can do about that," he smirked, trailing his mouth from her lips to her neck.

That was the night that she found Chuck Bass's kryptonite.

And the night she captured him forever.

"Try not to scream too loudly," she taunted.

That was the night that he fell in love with her.

He was just too stubborn to admit it.

"We're not doing this again."

Thanksgiving and he had snuck into her room.

She should have castrated him when she had the chance.


He really wasn't used to hearing the word no.

"Because it's a little too 'been there, done that,'" Blair sneered.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked steadily.

"Because I had no intention of ever doing this with you ever again," Blair rolled her eyes.

"No," Chuck shook his head. "I mean when your father didn't show. Why didn't you call me instead of-"

"Serena?" Blair supplied.

"That wasn't what I was going to say," Chuck said and she knew what he was suggesting. Somehow, he always seemed to know.

"What are you doing?" she asked.


"Here," she reiterated. "What are you doing here?"

"Why so confused, lover?" he asked.

"Because this isn't supposed to happen," she burst out.

"That's really your problem," he said in awe. "Isn't it? This isn't part of your meticulously constructed plan and that scares you. It scares you how much you want me."

"Chuck, you can't," she said breathily.

He liked it.

"This isn't..." Blair searched for words. "This isn't good."

"That's what makes it worth it," he smirked.

And she knew that Chuck Bass was the same as Blair Waldorf.

And then it's over. Absolutely, seriously, definitely over. And that's confusing too. The over part. Which it is—over.

When Blair reached 20, she had surpassed her romantic phase. And though she found herself softly enraptured by the painful beauty of tragedies, she decided that she only liked them as a backdrop. Shakespeare shouldn't be categorized into tragedies, comedies, and histories. Because there was so much more.

When Blair read Much Ado About Nothing, she knew that she was in love. It wasn't until she past her childish phases did she realize why. Because there was a sort of painful beauty to it. He tortures her, she tortures him and love is in the air.

And this was the moment she knew that Chuck Bass was her Benedick and there was something to be said about an eloquent man who scorns love only to fall for his match. Her life was Shakespearean and she knew she would have to be tricked into admitting her love for Chuck again. Because that's just how the play went.

It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing.

She hadn't been sure it was him. He didn't dress like the man she loved. Muted colors in addition to white. The man she loved didn't have a cane. And this man definitely did. So when she car jerked her stomach into her mouth, she couldn't help but stare. Because that man definitely had the eyes that belonged to Chuck Bass.

She stared out the window as the man jumped away from the car and their eyes met. She should have realized that Chuck Bass was forever. He had mated with her soul and embedded himself into her flesh.

No French girlfriend or self imposed hatred would stop that. No matter how confusing it was.

Blair knew that he didn't need the cane anymore. But sometimes he would parade around with it and it had a sense of superiority that she knew the teenage boy that she would forever love was still in there, being fawned over by some society sluts.

"I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you."

She hated how much he knew her.

"Try it all you want, Bass," Blair said indifferently at his presence behind her. "You can't win this way."

"And what way would that be?" he asked simply. She could never catch him off his guard. In any way that she wanted to at the moment. She turned to face his blasé form.

"Spouting out meaningless poetry that makes you sound, if it is even more possible, even more smug," she replied.

"It's possible," he grinned. "And you know it's working."

"Get it through your thick skull," she replied. "Its over."

"What is?" he provoked. She set her jaw with determination. "Could you be possibly referring to the status of us?"

"There is no us," she said.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, unable to mask to curve of his lips. But she wasn't looking at them. At all. "I must have confused us being over when you scratched your nails down my back last night. Among other things."

"I don't recall," she said breezily.

"You don't recall," he repeated softly and she hated how she had to lean in to hear him properly. Damn seduction technique. "You don't recall how you hiked your dress up for me and crawled all over me like you did the first night."

"We're over, Chuck," she said distinctly.

"You're just confused," he said dismissively.

"Do you not understand the connotation of 'no?'" she demanded.

"Probably not," he said. "You never said it."

"You can't force me to feel something that isn't there," she said cruelly, hoping it would stick. He leaned in closer to her so that she could almost feel his scar pressing through his shirt. She liked that shirt. It matched her dress.

But she wasn't thinking about that.

"If you felt nothing for me," he said, "you would have slapped me like you're prone to do and kick my cane from underneath me."

"A cane that you don't even need," she sneered.

"It's vintage," he grinned. He leaned away, studying her closely like she hated that he did sometimes. He could see right through her. Like she could him. "No one knows me like you, Waldorf."

"Did you tell that slut of yours that you didn't need it?" Blair asked lightly. He loved when she would criticize him like she wasn't insulting him.

"I knew you hated her," he grinned triumphantly. "Civility doesn't suit you Waldorf. I much rather you down on my level."

"I never hated her," Blair said. "I pitied her. Because she was so easily used."

"It was the easiest way to get to you," he said dryly, still looking at her.

"Last night never happened," she repeated.

"I actually wasn't thinking of it," he said. "But now I am. And I have to say, that dress leaves your many precious bits to the imagination. Which you know pleases me. I don't want my future wife too overly exposed. I don't know how Nathaniel handles Serena that way."

"I am not marrying you," she snapped. "Get over it. Just because you've convinced yourself as such doesn't make it true."

"Just because you've convinced yourself in the negative today, doesn't mean I can't convince you tomorrow," he parried. "Or right now, if you please. My limo's just outside. I know what you're up for. Always."

"Nothing that involves you," Blair snapped.

"I told you that I would spend the rest of my life making it up to you," Chuck said. "And I'm going to keep to that promise."

"What makes you think that I will ever change my mind?"

He knew she was weakening because her mind was already made up. She just wanted to make him work for it. Which he knew he deserved. And he would do anything to earn her forgiveness time and time again.

"Because nothing will even compare to being as good as what we have."

"Past tense for me, Chuck," she chastised.

"For now," he grinned. "But I have to say last night was fantastic. Maybe it was our separation that made the heart grow fonder, but I'm sure these marks won't fade for weeks."

"And how good was I?"

It wasn't something he was really prepared for. He knew this dance. She tortures him, he tortures her and love is in the air. But she was taunting him and she had that look in her eye that reminded him exactly why nothing else could compare.

"Exponentially fantastic," he whispered in her ear.

"I could have done it, you know," she said. "To think that I almost told you I loved you."

Because they were nearing the end and that ring was just begging to be worn by the woman it was created for.

"And do it with all thy heart," he recited genuinely and she knew there was no way she could resist him. Not when she knew truly in her soul was not Romeo and Juliet and not even the very close Othello.

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest," she proclaimed. He pulled her close.

"I knew it," he grinned. For her life was truly Shakespearean so that it did not mimic Romeo and Juliet but that she was Beatrice to his Benedick.