A/N: FUTURE FIC TIME! In case you're wondering, no, this isn't original at all. SUrprise, surprise. THis was ripped from an awesome show that has a CB couple of their very own (except obviously not as good.) This is basically what happened except for the CB-ness which makes them so awesome.

Summary: She was the one who was married first. It was her mother who was tired of waiting for her daughter to make a proper match. And it was because of her that he had even married the first model he came across at the reception.

Disclaimer: None is mine. Not the concept. Not the characters. Just the words. The ending's sort of mine but always always inspired by the amazingness of CB. Credit also goes to the awesome comewhatmay.x who actually liked this. I'm flumoxed.

Her diamond ring always glared at him. The way it glinted tauntingly across its matching silver band. It made his own ring constrict over his fourth finger and he wished that this wasn't the way that everything had to be. He wished that he didn't live in this empty world, where he knew the one person he had literally given his life for, only to have it be shoved back in, was the one person he was restricted from being with.

They wouldn't allow themselves to be together. No one else allowed them to be together either. He was too sordid for their match to be accepted. Because fate was no match for Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf. Now Blair Westmore. He wished it didn't have to be this way. He wished he didn't have to watch her throw away her very identity to appease her husband. A hyphenation would have done just fine.

He wished he hadn't walked in on her first display of emotion since before the wedding he had gotten drunk for, if only to just get through it. Even if he was a hypocrite. Everyone knew the real reason why Chuck Bass had married Giselle Calloway of Victoria's Secret fame barely a month after the Waldorf-Westmore wedding.

She knew it too. He saw the way his blonde wife gazed scathingly at the femme fatale with a fake society smile and a scathing glare of her own that sent Giselle Bass' to shame. But that didn't matter. His smug assurance that Blair had to demean his wife didn't matter. It didn't matter that a Victoria's Secret model with endless legs could be jealous of the 5'4 brunette daughter of a designer. Because everyone knew.

All that mattered was that Blair was holding her shaking, diamond clad hand to her face and Chuck forgot. He forgot that he had a hot wife with an insatiable appetite for him or that his PI's had uncovered the fact that Gregory Westmore was ready to have children.

Blair's head snapped to attention at her place by the fireplace in the empty room of Lily's penthouse. He closed the door quietly behind him. He watched her hasty hands wipe away almost invisible tears that tragically seemed to make her more beautiful. If that was even possible.

"Where's Mrs. Bass?" Blair snapped.

Always on the offensive. And he didn't blame her.

"What are you doing in here all alone?" Chuck asked, finally finding his voice. Her rigid posture relaxed at his words and he took it as a cue to continue forward.

"Leave me alone," she answered in defeat, looking at her frail hands. He hated how small looked now. It was only a small consolation that he knew for a fact that she wasn't carrying her husband's child. But he hated how ill she looked. And he hated that he knew why.

"The foundation is just about to start," Chuck said.

"Has Lily sent you in to fetch me?" Blair asked. Her voice was so dark and so miserable that he had to wonder how he hadn't seen it before. But he should have known better. It was a look that she hadn't rid herself of since her wedding day.

"No, actually," he said. "I came here of my own accord."

"Can we reschedule your appointment to gloat tomorrow?" Blair asked. "I am really not in the mood for it right now."

"Why would I gloat?" he asked.

"Because my marriage is such a failure," Blair answered, refusing to look at him. He took a seat beside her, finding how natural it felt to feel her breathing with him.

"Every marriage has rough patches," Chuck said, though not sure why he was attempting to console her over something that he cursed her with.

"You would know, right?" Blair asked snidely, finally looking back to him. He stiffened, but was pleased he could see the exact hue of her eyes. "What do you and the wife argue about? Which color would look more flawless on her perfect frame for the new spread? Your life is so hard."

He hated the cynicism that had entered her voice, but what he hated even more was that she was right. She was the one who was married first. It was her mother who was tired of waiting for her daughter to make a proper match. And it was because of her that he had even married the first model he came across at the reception. Because he had given up.

"I suppose a perfect figure is something she needs to compensate for in place of her utterly boring personality."

"And why do I find that so hard to believe?" Blair asked. "That a model that has been on six covers of Sports Illustrated with the code to George Clooney's castle could be boring."

"Because she'll never be as perfect as you."

Blair was on her feet and only yards away from the door and he knew this was the part of the dance where they pushed each other away. Because this time they both had a reason. This time they were both married.

"You can't talk like that, Bass."

Again on the offensive with his last name, but he didn't care. Because as much as she was running, she could never run all the way away from him.

"I can't change the way I talk to you, Waldorf."

She turned and he found it strange that she was smiling at him. Taking it as another affirmation, he stood to walk towards her again.

"I don't like it," he admitted. "How we're not how we used to be."

"We can't be like that anymore," Blair reminded him. "We've made our commitments."

"Even before that," he said. "We used to confide everything in each other. We used to scheme together."

"I am sorry for that," Blair admitted, looking away from him. He studied her suspiciously.

"For what?" he asked. "We're talking now."

"But we can't," Blair said.

"Why not?"

"My husband doesn't like it."

"What a shock," Chuck sneered. "Gregory finds my presence undeniably intimidating."

But he had made her smile again and it was worth it.

"Don't flatter yourself."

That was how it happened. That was how they changed everything.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he suggested.

"I have a meeting," she reminded him.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked again.

She should have said no.

Chuck couldn't help but gaze at her with amusement that fifteen minutes after they had sat down at the diner, she still looked wildly uncomfortable. He saw her as that girl she had been. She would always be that to him. No matter how many husbands, or children, or years she had gained.

She would always be his.

But those thoughts were acidic so he looked away. If only for a moment.

"You haven't been to a diner."

It wasn't a question. Blair finally looked at him, away from the distractions of the unsanitary establishment.

"Not since I was 17," she admitted.

"What made it so memorable?" Chuck asked. Her eyes flicked and he knew something made it very memorable.

"Daddy didn't show for Thanksgiving."


He remembered.

"That Thanksgiving was memorable for me as well."

He watched in fascination as her usual pallor colored at the very memory, flushing her customary pale complexion. The memory of him stumbling into her room that very night, inebriated and lusting for the girl who had abandoned him once again at her party flashing through both of them.

"That was one of the most memorable months of my life."

Blair trained her eyes as he intertwined his left hand with hers. Her diamond glinted menacingly at him as his own band caught the light.

"We can't do this," she whispered at their hands, as though they could hear her and had a say in what was happening between them. He could remember his obsession with having her for that entire week after her birthday, finally culminating in their third mind-blowing consummation. She had finally accepted that they were something real.

It got better each time.

He never looked back. It was at times like these that it saddened him that she gave the air that she did. But their bare flesh sizzled together and he knew it was just her illusion. The same illusion that told him countless times that she didn't love him anymore when they would just find themselves together months later, like refuge after being lost, parched in the desert.

And they could breathe again.

"Do what?" he asked leaning in. It was at that opportune moment that the waitress decided to deliver their food. Her dark hair was pulled from her neck in addition to the short skirt that was her uniform.

Chuck didn't take his eyes off of Blair once.

"We were talking about something-" Chuck said, desperate for her mask to fall so he could see her real face for once.

"How's Giselle?"

Her voice didn't contain any particular ire, but he knew her intention. Change of subject and the reminder that this conversation in this medium was not that way.

"As vapid as ever," Chuck said dryly. "And Gregory?"

He watched her twirl her diamond ring around her finger and it was exactly what he had touched on before.

"As rigid as ever."

He felt his intense desire to needle and manipulate to get into her good graces. Instincts that he had since he was 16 coming into play with a rush of excitement. She excited him too much. He wasn't a teenager anymore.

But she made him feel like one. She made him immature and needy and lusty.

She made him so wholly in love like he never had been with anyone before. And never would again. Her somber expression turned almost humorous as she laughed bitterly. His hand closed over hers more tightly. She let their fingers entwine more intimately and her smile became more real.

"How is it that you're the one I instinctively pour my soul to?"

"I'm not complaining," he said, knowing the truth was just around the bend.

Blair shook her head.

"What?" he asked gently. "Tell me."

She looked up and he saw the start of moisture welling in her eyes.

"This is too much," she said in hushed tones.

"Just tell me."

"No," Blair said, almost in frustration. "This is too much. It's too... intimate."

"We're just holding hands," he teased. Even so, married men should not be holding the hands of married women that they weren't bound in matrimony to.

"He's never around."

The barrier broke and he knew he didn't have to keep holding her hand for them to be connected.

"He's always traveling."

"It's the world we live in."

"You don't understand," Blair rebuffed him. He hated that. That sentence that he and Blair would remind others when it came to them.

You don't understand.

No one understood Chuck and Blair. They were too confusing, too perfect to be understood.

"He just leaves," she continued, clearing her throat. "I wake up and he's gone. Business trips that he doesn't tell me about. He doesn't tell me anything. He leaves and he comes back. He goes and doesn't tell me. He shows up at events and is furious. I don't even know him. For all I know, he could have mistresses hooked up on every continent."

"He doesn't."

Blair looked up in surprise at his words. Chuck was looking unabashedly into her eyes.


"He's not cheating on you."

Her eyes narrowed. "That's twisted."

But she was smiling back at him.

"I do it because I care," he said back, playing with her fingers.

"You shouldn't."

He held tighter.

"He knows."

"He knows what?" Chuck asked suspiciously. To his recollection, they hadn't had any enticing piano sex as of late. But as they locked eyes, he knew what she meant. Gregory knew what everyone saw when they looked at Chuck and Blair.

The inevitable.

"What happened?" Chuck probed. He could almost still see the streaks of emotion drying down her face as they had the last hour. But she was strong and stagnant.

"We had a fight."

She was going to have to do better than that.

"What did he do?" Chuck asked venomously. Once again, surprise was portrayed in her eyes and she shook her head vehemently.

"No," she said strongly. "It wasn't anything like that."

"Then what was it like?" he asked. "It can't be finances like the rest of the lesser peasants. He's not cheating. He leaves you without a word, but you don't seemed to be too bothered by that-"


Her voice was filled with discontent and malice, but he was sure it had more to do with his last emotional jab at her.

"We were fighting about you," she replied. "Satisfied?"

Her eyes looked stricken like she was 16 going on 17 once more, a mangled virginity, her hair coiled up from her neck.

And yet again, he wasn't satisfied. He hadn't been that night either until an hour later when her lips had been on his again and he had felt whole like he had the previous night with undulating bodies and sleek transports.

He still wasn't letting go of her hand.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he finally asked.

"Where?" Blair asked, unable to meet his eyes. "There's nowhere else to go."

"When all else fails, there's always the limo," he told her and his hand was far too hot over hers.

"He hates you, you know," Blair said. "He doesn't like me going out because there's always the chance that you'll be there."

"Why?" Chuck asked. "Because we have a history?"

Around here, who doesn't?

But they both knew at his pronunciation of the last word, history was the last thing they had. History was just something they said because there wasn't a word out there that could describe the complete all-consuming complexity they had. Something that everyone saw, but only they could understand.

Even her husband.

"Because we're sitting together in a dingy diner," Blair said. "And he knows."

"I thought he was away," Chuck said warily. Not for one second could he ever fear the likes of Gregory Westmore. But it wasn't a secret that dear Gregory hated the likes of Chuck Bass.

"He is," Blair said. "But he still knows."

She was right. Whenever Gregory would go on his little trips, the two of them always seemed to be in these compromising situations together.

"We don't have to stay," Chuck offered. The slightest of nods was all the he needed for him to pay the check. The check for food he hardly ate the way she hardly ate anymore at all. He noticed. He watched.

He didn't like it.

This, however, was not the time as they walked out of a mediocre restaurant in midtown. He started down the sidewalk, finally noticing that she wasn't with him. He looked back expectantly to see that haughty look on her face make her even more beautiful.

"Are you coming?"

"We're walking?" Blair asked. He loved how elitist she could be.

"The limo isn't coming."

"You said it was."

His smirk must have convinced her because they were both walking in stride again as night began to fall.

"I don't like this neighborhood," she said as the city was coated in darkness. "Is Arthur on vacation or something?"

"No," Chuck said. "But the faster or mode of transportation, the sooner I have to leave you."

Her steps faltered but he refused to look at her and just kept walking. Chuck was so relieved to hear her heels click beside him once more that he didn't see the imposing figure before them.

"Oh my god."

Blair had seen it first. She had seen the barrel of the gun pointed at them and Chuck wanted to vomit. He had a violent flash and he could almost smell the sordid streets of Prague with its Velvet Revolution.

He could almost feel the Harry Winston diamond weighing against his chest.

"You know what to do."

At least the mugger spoke English this time.

"Oh my god," Blair's voice said again, thick with emotion. He wished it was light enough so he could read her expression to comfort her. But all he felt was the paralyzing feeling of anger.

This was happening again.


He would not let this happen again. He wouldn't let himself be a victim. Though her prized diamond was in the safety of a lockbox, he couldn't let this happen again. He couldn't let this happen to her.

Without giving him a choice in the matter, his body shifted in front of Blair, shielding her from what was about to happen.

"Look down," Chuck instructed, seething hatred coursing through his veins that this disgusting thief would dare to look upon such perfection.

But he still wasn't giving anything up.


Her voice was anger mixed with fear.

Mostly fear. She knew exactly what he was thinking. That this couldn't be happening. Not again. She knew that he wanted to win this time.

He was aware that the gun wasn't pointed at him anymore but her. He saw red and felt something he had only felt once before. The urge to fight. The urge to throw himself before a speeding bullet to protect what belonged to him.

Her nails dug through the fabric of his coat and the pain was a relief, shocking him back to this reality where events moved at their normal pace.

Blair had pushed her handbag into the hands of the mugger, but Chuck held steadfast.

"Don't you dare do this to me," Blair threatened in a voice that was coated with tears. "Don't you dare endanger yourself again. If for only once in your life, don't be selfish. Don't you dare leave me."

Her voice cracked and emotion welled in his chest. The safety being pulled away from the weapon was even more jarring and he knew that his anger at the unfair nature of this situation wouldn't help any. Blair was in danger in a way that she hadn't been before.

And he could save her. For the first time in his life, he could be worth something.

The gun was back on him as he was being shouted at with instructions as Blair took deep shuddering breaths. Begrudgingly, he removed his wedding ring, handing over another wallet that would be stolen. His anger evaporated into the air because he heard Blair's distinct sniff and he knew that she was right.

He was being selfish.


"What?" Chuck asked, his fury at the turn of events still apparent. But the gun was pointed at a glittering diamond in the streetlights and he understood. Before the thief had time to elaborate, Blair had thrusted her jewelry in his face.

There was a moment of astonishment on his part when Blair had so willingly given up what he was sure was her most prized possession. The mugger's footsteps echoed down the alley and surprise weighed heavily in the atmosphere.

He was still breathing. He wasn't bleeding. Blair was with him.

But her shuddering breaths became sharper and he finally turned to her, wanting to embrace her. But she was looking at him so helplessly as though she didn't know how to speak.

She was having an anxiety attack.

"Oh, god," Blair finally said, collapsing against a wall of the street. "Oh, god."

"It's alright," he assured her. "Everything's alright. Just breathe."

She shook her head, unable to look into his eyes as he searched her own.

"Blair," he said, calling her back to him. "Can you breathe for me?"

She finally made eye contact with him. Her hands fisted the front of his jacket and for a moment, he thought she was angry with him. But she was just feeling him and he realized she was making sure that he was still with her.

"I'm here," he said. "I promise."

"I can't breathe," Blair said, her voice still stilted. "I want to scream."

"Don't," he advised, pulling her into a more secluded corner. "It's okay. Everything we had is replaceable. Especially for us."

She nodded, trying to smile at his attempt at humor. She seemed relatively apt at calming herself down, considering the situation. The last time this had happened to him, he had collapsed. Then again, there was a bullet embedded in his hip.

"We're okay," he said, not sure if he was reassuring himself or her. "We're okay."

She was suddenly looking at him in a peculiar way that seemed familiar, but he just couldn't place it. He knew that she was convinced. It was only a moment before it happened that he remembered where he had seen that look before.

Blair pressed her lips fiercely to his and he knew the first time he had seen her look at him like that he had told her that she was amazing. Her hand curled around the nape of his neck, twining through his hair as he pushed her against the wall. She looped the hand that no longer had a ring on it around his and there was no longer any space between them.

Chuck had to pull away, unable to help his confusion. Unable to think of the times that they couldn't be alone together because they both knew that one thing always led to another when it came to them. He had to remember when she would push away even the subtlest of his advances. But now he understood. It was because she had felt every slightest nuance of desire he felt for her. They were still the same. Even ten years after their first coupling, they were still the same. They couldn't change. That much was clear as their bodies pressed intimately together in the middle of New York City.

He was still staring at her in wonder and she was looking at him the way he always looked at her, whether her husband was aware of it or not. He knew that Gregory hated him. He just didn't know that Blair knew the reason why. The real reason. Not just because they were Chuck and Blair, but because of that Harry Winston diamond he never returned.

Her fingers had curled around the shoulders of his suit jacket, her chest heaving with her heavy pants and he knew that he no longer had a choice in the matter. Even if he had some semblance of logic, it wouldn't matter. Because she was with him. She was with him and she wanted it.

He was on her again, feeling how her spine curved against the brick wall. He wanted to stop to inquire about her comfort, but it was futile because his adrenaline was spiking and she was moaning with desire into his mouth. Their tongues intertwined in a ferocious battle and all he could think of was how grateful he was to have her in his arms again.

He broke away to catch his breath as she placed a sweet kiss on his ear. And he was suddenly very aware that they were in a very public place in a very populated city. It didn't matter what time of night it was. There would always be people out.

But at her hot words, it was suddenly irrelevant.

"Don't stop."

She was needy and aroused, their hips fitting and grinding and and undulating so perfectly that none of it mattered. Not the people. Not the missing rings. Not their...

Not anything.

He did what she wanted. He did what his queen commanded.

Whatever you needed him to do, do you really think he would have refused you?

No. He'd never say no. To anything.

He would do anything for her. And he was.

Chuck braced his right hand on the wall above her head, delving into the deep recesses of her mouth. She clung to him, hands searching underneath the back of his jacket to pull his shirt out of his pants. He could almost smell the scent of leather mixed with sweat as she pulled insistently on his bow tie before fiddling with his belt. There was a scraping of metal against metal and everything fell away.

His clothing, his inhibitions, along with hers, were all gone. All that remained was what always remained with them. He felt underneath her skirt and they were joined once more.

Like they always had been and always would be.

Gregory Westmore was staring at him. This wasn't exactly an odd occurrence considering that he was loathed by practically every stockholder in New York, but this time it was different. It was different because Westmore had just returned from Shanghai with a look that could kill. As though Chuck's handprints were all over the wife of the man who detested him.

It wouldn't have surprised him.

It wouldn't have surprised him if that society wife hadn't in fact been ignoring him throughout the entire party. Call him old fashioned, but he considered a hasty coupling in an alley of a major metropolitan area warranted at least some awkward conversation.

With Blair, at least. Because he knew that he was the only person that she ever did any of those sorts of things with. He didn't have to ask. Her husband would be lucky if he got some once a month, at the very least.

"Still leering?"

"I'm not leering," Chuck answered, his eyes still trained on the object of his affection.

"Stalking, then," Eric provided. Chuck took a swig of his customary drink and finally turned to his little brother.

"I need a favor."

Eric recognized that look in his favorite brother's eyes. "No."

"She won't even look at me," Chuck replied, both of them knowing what was going to be required from the younger. "She trusts you. You're nonthreatening."

"Then don't you think there's a reason she won't talk to you?" Eric suggested.

"Two minutes," Chuck smirked. "Upstairs."

Eric watched as Chuck started towards the landing.

"Where?" Eric asked, knowing that Chuck had made his mind up for the both of them.

"She knows how to find me," Chuck answered before mounting the steps.

Sometimes, Eric really hated him.

I want to talk.

I prefer to talk after.

A sense of familiarity that came with the territory of Blair Waldorf contributed to the fact that this was right. Them together was just right. He was always the one to approach her.

Aren't you done trying to destroy my night?

Always in the dark.

Blow out your candle.

Even when things were simple and he would smile at her.

I can't believe Serena came to this brunch. I told her to stay away.

And how he seemed to meet her right at her core.

Worried about Nate?

Until it wasn't anymore. Until she approached him in the darkness of a graduation party with only the encouragement of a single nod from him. She put her hand on his arm, leading him into a locked room before dropping everything and revealing her very vulnerable figure.

In more ways than one.

"Is this what it takes?"

He felt her pause in the middle of the darkness. The moonlight streamed through the windows, just as it had when there was no choice for lights and only a candle extinguished from breath that came from her perfect lips.

"I have to send for you so I can talk to you?"

"I'm not some common servant."

Her voice was snide and demeaning and he missed her far too much.

"Don't make me treat you like one."

"The world can't just fall at your feet because you want it to."

"Why not?" he asked. "That was always the trait your found most... arousing as I recall."

"I can't do this."

All the air went out of the room and he knew how close he was to losing her. He shut the door quickly, making sure that she only had one choice. The one that he was giving her.

"We have to talk," he said sternly. "You can't just ignore what happened. You can't ignore us."

"Why not?" Blair asked succinctly. "It has worked so well in the past."

"Is that really what you believe?" Chuck asked with amusement. "Because one way or another we always end up in a dark room, entwined to such a degree that we can never let go of each other."

"Greg's waiting."

"Of course he is," Chuck asked more sharply than intended. "I wonder what your darling would husband would say if I just went out there right now and told him about the newly formed scars on my back."

Her hand clenched around his wrist and they were both leaning against the door, a painful reminiscence of the previous night. He hated how she could ignore him so easily. She hated how it was so easy for her to walk away from him when he stayed up all night, the bout of insomnia he had during their first time obviously kicked back into high gear.

"Don't," she pleaded in his ear. "Don't."

"Because he expects it?"

"You think I do this?" Blair asked. "You think I just go around cheating on my husband?"

"No," Chuck said. "I think I had you against the wall of an alley because you were never supposed to marry him in the first place."

And she knew that there was no doubt about that.

"Things just didn't work for us, Chuck," Blair said. "It's not fair to them if we do this now."

"They don't matter," Chuck said. "We got married to other people. But that wasn't supposed to happen and you know it. We were supposed to happen."

"If we were supposed to happen then we would have happened."

"Is that the reason that diamond is still in my safe?"

"So you're a packrat," Blair said. "That doesn't mean that we're destined to be together."

"Aren't we?"

Her only response was the breath that brushed against his neck, a result of her panic.

"I suppose that fornicating in a back alley isn't your idea of the most-"

"I don't regret it."

Her voice was shaky and close. Their bodies were pressed against each other and for a moment, it was easy to pretend that they really didn't have wedding rings. It was easy to pretend that all of this didn't matter.

He had lost the ability to censor himself at 19 and his mouth was on hers, feeding and taking and providing like they had always done.

"Chuck," she said into his mouth. It wasn't a moan, but he pretended that it was. "Chuck."

She pushed against his chest again, forcing him to kiss down her neck so he could still be connected to her.

"Chuck," she said again. "I said I didn't regret it. But you knew that. You know that I have never regretted anything between us. But I'm married."

He pulled away.

"And so are you."

He took solace in the fact that Goodbye, Chuck didn't leave the mouth that his tongue had so recently plundered. Her hand was on the door handle but he let out an incredulous barking laugh. He watched her freeze, almost in confusion.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you leave after that?"

He could feel her cold gaze on him, even in the darkness. He stopped her hand, his own to her wrist, liking the feeling of her erratic pulse jumping through the soft skin of her forearm.

"You think you can just let this happen to us again, tell me it meant something to you, and really expect me to allow you to go back to Gregory?"

"You don't have a choice."

"It meant something, Blair," he told her. "It means something. I know you feel it. The same thing that's always been there. The same thing that made you come to me after everything every single time."

"Don't make that sound like some sort of redeeming quality."

"It is," he smirked. "Always has, always will."

Her cruel laugh cut into him, making him cling harder.

"You really think you're a match for Greg?" Blair asked. "He's my husband."

"Is that a challenge?" he asked.

Game set.

"Don't take it as one."

"Too late," he replied before giving her another bruising kiss. She shook him off, finally getting the door open.

"You don't stand a chance," Blair told him confidently.

"You really think I won't do it," Chuck murmured. She had stiffened again and the rules had already been set.

"I know you won't do it," Blair replied and she knew that she was digging her own grave.

"Guard my drink."