Ivan, 27. Virgo. chair (Chuck and Blair) and Klaroline (Klaus and Caroline) shipping trash. I love enemies, turned friends, turned lovers romance stories. these two will forever be my OTP's. two people meant to be together, will eventually find their...
[1 year in the life of Blair, Chuck and Henry ♡ this chapter: everyone copes with Chuck being in Paris in different ways, Blair tries to gauge Henry's thoughts on babies, and there's a reunion or two ♡ rated e ♡ prev chapter]
a/n: so I really didn't mean to leave this fic for over a year again, I'm so sorry 😭 BUT on the bright side I think this is the longest chapter so far so hopefully that makes up for the lack of updates. I definitely have a plan for this fic though, and I'm hoping to have the next chapter up a lot sooner sksfjkdk. also a l'il warning that this made me emo while writing it but I won't say in what way so u can be surprised. as always I hope u enjoy it and ty for sticking with me so far 🫶🏻🫶🏻
chapter 4- April (a month to wait and watch the rain)
"Why daddy go to Paris?" Henry asks sleepily, curling into Blair's side as she takes up the edge of his bed.
She strokes his hair, not bothering to correct his grammar, "the people who were meant to be building daddy's new hotel messed up, so now he has to go and fix it"
"But why tomorrow? I-" Henry yawns, rubbing his eyes, "I wanna play basketball"
Blair laughs softly, pulling his covers up higher, "daddy can play with you when he gets back"
"Promise?"
Blair kisses his head, "I promise, and I'll make daddy promise too. I love you"
Henry murmurs his reply, snuggling up with his teddy bear. Blair strokes his head one last time, then quietly makes her exit. She finds herself being equally quiet as she comes down the stairs, a six am flight the next morning meaning Chuck is temporarily on the same sleep schedule as their two-and-a-half-year-old.
Blair slips into their room, toeing her slippers off and letting her stocking clad feet carry her towards her walk-in closet instead. Briefly she pauses to check on Chuck, his chest rising and falling in the same pattern as Henry's upstairs, and she can't help the rush of fondness that sweeps over her at the similarities between her boys. She shuts the closet door with a soft click, and pulls her dress off, hanging it back up before unhooking her bra, momentarily wishing she'd asked Chuck to do it earlier.
It's not just the sex she's going to miss for two weeks, although, obviously, she knows she will. It's also the simple intimacy her and Chuck have, the fact that although he's taken her underwear off countless times as a prelude to sex he's just as happy to do it because she's too tired or too annoyed to do it herself, just to help her in whatever way he can. So it's only fair she returns the favour.
She rolls her stockings down, neatly folding them away before pulling her pyjamas on. She brushes her hair quickly, not wanting to go through her usual routine at her vanity for fear of waking her husband up. It'll do for one night, Blair thinks, smoothing her hand down it as she turns the light off before going back into their bedroom.
It's surprisingly easy to navigate in the dark, winding her way across the floor until she reaches her nightstand. Just as she's reaching for her well loved copy of Anna Karenina Chuck stirs, his arm searching for her even half asleep. Blair perches on the edge, running her hand through his hair like she did with Henry.
"I didn't mean to wake you" she whispers, letting him lace his fingers with hers, "go back to sleep my love"
Chuck groans into his pillow, "it'd be easier with you here"
"I can stay" she offers, tucking her feet underneath her.
"You don't have to" he tries to wave her off but she keeps her hands on him.
"Really Chuck, I don't mind"
"Did Henry go down well?"
Blair smiles softly, "he did. But I might have promised him that you'd take him to play basketball when you get back"
"Mm gladly. And," he opens his eyes, turning serious despite the sleep clouding them, "I promise to make up for all our lost time, too"
Blair leans to kiss him gently, "I'm holding you to that Bass" she teases.
"I expect nothing less Waldorf"
Blair cards her fingers through his hair as his breathing slows, content to spend however long Chuck needs at his side. Well, she'll happily spend forever if she can, knowing he will for her, but for now this is enough. The usually quiet ticking of her clock seems louder in the silence but thankfully it doesn't keep him awake, Blair checking he's still asleep as she slides her book back into her hands.
Eventually, Anna and Vronsky start to blur on the pages, Blair gently setting it aside for another day, and happily cuddles up to her own anti-hero. Paris isn't that far, the thought floating through her mind as she finds herself falling asleep. They can make it work. They've gotten through far more than a couple of hours time difference, so surely this will be a breeze.
__
The universe is conspiring to do everything possible to give Blair a headache before ten am on a Thursday. That's what it feels like, at least.
She sighs, massaging her forehead and scrolling through her emails. The new line is actually going well, a series of pop-up events garnering praise and creating a buzz online before the clothes officially hit stores at the end of the month. That's not what's making Blair's head throb, though. It's everything else.
Her coffee cools next to her, mostly untouched thanks to the heaping of sugar mistakenly added to it, her assistant Veronica apparently developing amnesia that morning. It would actually explain how the prototype pattern drafts for Paris Fashion Week vanished, thus meaning her seamstresses are taskless until the afternoon, if Veronica had a serious head injury before coming to work, but Blair asked her twice and she denied it. Which, she realises, would also be the response with amnesia. Maybe she'll ask Dorota to send a doctor to examine Veronica at lunch. It's not like she'll be busy, unlike Blair herself.
Her office doors are shut, allowing her a temporary reprieve from interacting with anyone. It also allows her time to mentally replay the way she snapped at one of Henry's morning playgroup mothers earlier. It's not her fault, she reminds herself, leaving her half-composed reply to her fabric supplier and looking through sketches and fabric samples instead. Not really.
She sighs, mustering the energy to finally finish the email and abruptly hits send. She knows she's been wound tighter than usual the last few days, but her usual method of relieving tension is 3,621 miles away so what else is she meant to do except snap a little faster at incompetence and question if head wounds are going around. It's her only viable outlet right now. Isn't it?
Blair glances at the clock ticking away next to the framed picture of her little family taken last Christmas, and mentally weighs up her options. With one last look towards her decidedly shut doors she presses the do not disturb button on her intercom to message Veronica, slides her phone out, and pulls up her contact list, not needing to scroll too far down. Her finger hovers for a moment, before pressing down.
Chuck's familiar drawl comes through the speaker and all the way to her core, "did you miss me already?"
"Maybe" is her playful reply, "but it has been almost three hours since we last spoke so I'm more than justified"
"True. So, what's on your mind?"
"Oh nothing" she absentmindedly twirls her wedding ring around her finger as she lets the words hang between them.
"Blair" Chuck says, and she feels taken back to a street in 2009 with him giving her as long as she needs to decide how this continues.
She sighs, "I might have called Alicia Oberone a tasteless trophy wife earlier"
"Was she wearing the 2006 Chanel dress again?"
"With green heels!" Blair exclaims, her vitriol bubbling up again, "and she claimed she 'forgot' to invite me to brunch with her empty-headed hanger-ons, because obviously her brain is full of so much else there's no room to remember me, but that I could come if I 'wasn't busy'. Of course I'm busy! Unlike her my life doesn't consist only of shopping for the worst vintage fashion possible and sucking up to my second husband so he doesn't move onto his third wife"
She pauses her rant to take a breath so Chuck interjects, "I hear second husbands aren't all that bad"
Blair playfully rolls her eyes even though he can't see, but her smile is evident in her voice, "I heard the same thing. Anyway that's when I might have said that I didn't need to go to brunch with a tasteless trophy wife, especially one who wears clothes I laughed at as a teenager"
"I see," she can picture him rubbing his hand over his chin, eyes sparkling at her mostly unnecessary, but very satisfying, takedown, "and what was her comeback?"
"Nothing, she just left. Which is actually what I expected. She did have the good sense to close her coat though, so it wasn't entirely wasted. This is all your fault, by the way"
"How?" he asks, and this time she hears the smile in his tone.
"Because I'm frustrated, Chuck"
"More than after Monte Carlo or?"
She huffs at his teasing, "I'm getting close. And not like that"
There's a pause before he speaks again, "what are you wearing?"
"Chuck!" she exclaims, quickly turning to make sure her office doors haven't opened somehow, "I'm not having phone sex with you at ten o'clock in the morning!"
"Don't pretend that you haven't before. Besides, I thought this was the only way to save everyone from the wrath of a sexually pent-up Blair Waldorf-Bass"
"That doesn't change the fact that I'm working. And so are you, where are you?"
"In the living room, I left the site early for a video conference this evening. I have two hours if you need them"
"I have to pick Henry up at lunch"
"That's not an answer, Blair" he goads.
She thinks for a minute, setting her phone down. After all, if she was being truly honest with herself she didn't just call him for a normal conversion. But she also bought new lingerie to torment him over the phone with, and she didn't exactly plan for this when getting dressed earlier, suddenly regretting her decision to wear tights instead of stockings, wondering if she should try to take them off. Instead she unzips her skirt, props her phone up against a makeshift stack of sketches and pattern drafts, and puts her AirPods in. One day she'll have to stop having semi-public sex with her husband. Just not today.
"Why don't you see what I'm wearing for yourself?"
She taps to switch it to FaceTime, enjoying the second it takes Chuck to register what's going on before positioning his phone in front of him. The familiar background of their Parisian apartment behind him makes Blair's heart ache, a longing to be with him lodging itself in her chest and snaking throughout her.
Chuck appraises her through the screen, eyes roaming over her body leisurely as if there isn't a literal ticking clock in front of her. And, as she also knows, on the mantle not far in front of him. He settles back against the couch, and Blair wishes she was somewhere more comfortable for this than her office chair. But, she reminds herself as she holds his gaze, the setting doesn't matter. All that matters is them.
"Excellent choice, as always" he nods in regards to her blouse which matches the shade of blue in his shirt.
Blair laughs, "it seems you can read my mind even with an ocean between us"
"Or that you can read mine"
"Mmm let's test that" she teases, starting to undo the buttons of her blouse, "if you were here you'd start by doing this"
"And in return you" she hears the distinctive hiss of his zipper, "would do this"
Blair's face grows warm as it dawns on her that they really are having phone sex at ten o'clock in the morning, her hand making its way under her skirt of its own free will. She shimmies a little in her chair, trying to get under her tights. Chuck's quiet laugh fills her ears.
"You're not wearing stockings?" he hums, "I haven't been gone that long Waldorf, don't change on me now"
She huffs, "I didn't exactly plan this, Basshole"
"Now I can't punish you through this screen" he drawls, and Blair's eyes widen as he shifts just to tease her with a glimpse of his erection, "but I'm more than willing to try"
"Oh I'm sure- ah!" she gasps in triumph, her tights now successfully down her thighs and fingers finally in contact with bare skin under her panties, "what were you saying?" she teases, fluttering her eyes.
Chuck growls, "we can figure it out another time"
Blair grins. This is exactly what she needs, she thinks as she starts to touch herself. Just her and Chuck, no-one to irritate or annoy her, just time with the love of her life and their uncanny understanding of each other's bodies.
Yes- there- I would- I know- show me- oh God-
Her breathing grows heavier, and she's so, so close and it feels so, so good and all she can hear is Chuck, right there, right in her ears, right to her core, and she's right about to-
The buzzing of her intercom cuts through Chuck's many hushed encouragements, and her eyes snap open, an entirely different heat coursing through her veins now as Veronica meekly tells her the pattern drafts have finally been found.
"Mrs Waldorf-Bass?" Veronica tries again, voice tinny through the speaker, and Blair realises that she hasn't actually spoken, cussing her out in her mind instead.
"Thank you" she gets out, watching Chuck eye her with amusement through the screen, "Veronica, did you not see the do not disturb light on?"
"Well-"
"Well what?" Blair snaps, and steals a glance over to her husband whose mood doesn't seem quelled at all, in fact quite the opposite, "you thought, if you're still capable of that, that you could simply disregard my directions?"
"No! No of course not" Veronica replies in the tone of someone who needs this job, "the light never came on, I swear. The tech team said there was an issue with the connection but it's fixed now. I would never ignore your directions"
Blair licks her lips, "in that case distribute the patterns to the seamstresses, they have two hours of work to make up for. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I-I'll tell them to work through lunch"
"I'd rather try to avoid a potential lawsuit" Blair muses, smiling at the sound of Chuck groaning in her ear, "but tell them that they may have to work overtime instead"
"Ok"
Blair keeps her gaze steady on her phone as she speaks, "now"
She doesn't register the crackle of the intercom cutting off, instead she watches Chuck's head tip back against the couch as he runs one hand through his hair. Although her body might not be experiencing the release she was craving, watching Chuck is almost as satisfying, her eyes still wide and lips parting like she came too.
"Maybe," Blair starts after a moment, "there's more than one way to save everyone from the wrath of a sexually pent-up me"
Chuck smirks, breathing still heavy but never too tired to tease her, "so your efforts with your tights weren't wasted then?"
"Definitely not. Besides-" she grins, pressing the do not disturb button again, "you still have at least an hour and a half by my count, so let's not waste it"
"You truly can read my mind"
__
New York itself is sadder without Chuck, the city under a cloud of grey for the last five days. At least, that's how Blair is choosing to perceive the apparently never-ending gloom that hangs in the air and refuses to leave like an unwanted house guest.
Rain snakes down the living room windows, Blair trying to keep the scowl off of her face so as not to dampen Henry's mood. Last night he refused to sleep until, in his words, 'the sky stopped yelling', so she's trying to keep him calm enough that he'll nap before they go to her mother's for the Passover Seder. He wriggles in her lap, the two of them sitting on the floor, trying to get closer to the window, his wide eyes reflecting back to her. She scoots forwards for him, his little fingers reaching the glass and avidly tracing the patterns the raindrops fall down in.
"Is it rainy in Paris?" he asks, his breath fogging the window up briefly.
"I don't know" Blair replies, brushing a hand through his hair, "do you want me to check?"
Henry nods, "daddy likes rain"
She laughs, pulling her phone down from the side table, "when did he tell you that?"
"In the park. An-and he said Monkey couldn't go in the puddles but we could"
The memory of the her boys coming home from a walk in Central Park after a sudden downpour last month floats to the forefront of Blair's mind, Chuck carrying a drenched Henry through the door with an equally dripping Monkey following suit. Both of their pants were soaking, Chuck's shoes certainly ruined, but neither of them cared. It pulls at Blair's heartstrings thinking of the two of them getting changed into their matching robes to dry out, Henry curling up on the couch next to Chuck.
She returns to now, to Henry's eager eyes gazing up at her as she opens the weather app and quickly scrolls down to Paris.
"Unfortunately," she sighs, "there's no rain in Paris right now"
Henry's frowns, "not-" he holds his thumb and forefinger together, "this much?"
Blair mimics him, "not even that much" she confirms sadly.
Henry frowns, turning his attention back to the droplets falling more heavily outside. The sky darkens, the threat of thunder looming, and Blair mentally crosses her fingers that they're not going to have a repeat of last night. She watches Henry, still entranced by the rain, and tries to just enjoy the moment with him instead of thinking too far ahead.
The time ticks away, Monkey coming to sit with them from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, and Henry cheerfully tells him that he can't get wet this time as the rain's outside. Blair almost misses the doorbell ringing, but Monkey doesn't, his head whipping around despite them being a whole floor above the front door. She checks the time on her phone, trying to hide the smile on her lips.
"Who could that be?" she hums, turning Henry around in her lap.
He furrows his little eyebrows, "daddy?" he asks after a moment, eyes growing wide.
Blair softens, kissing his head, "not yet sweetheart. Besides daddy would just unlock the door, wouldn't he?" she tries, hopefully steering him away from disappointment.
Henry considers this as Blair hears the front door open, Monkey trotting over to the top of the stairs to greet their mystery arrival. She lifts Henry up as she stands, nuzzling her nose against his cheek to make him laugh before settling him back down. Three voices float up the stairs, Henry trying to place the two that aren't Dorota, Blair quickly smoothing her dress out of habit.
The question is answered in the form of Harold and Roman rounding the stairs, bringing some much needed brightness to their day. Henry runs over, Roman immediately scooping him up and easily chatting about the rain. Blair takes the opportunity to hug her father, wondering when the lines around his eyes became more pronounced.
She knows that she could never convince him to move back to Manhattan full-time, despite her mother and Cyrus miraculously doing so at the start of the year. Although she also knows that had less to do with divinity and everything to do with Henry.
They sit on the couch, Roman more than happy to sit with Henry on the rug and teach him how to say 'pluie'.
"So," Harold starts as Dorota brings in tea, "remind me, Blair-bear, what does a Seder involve exactly?"
"A lot of talking, too much talking if you ask Eleanor, and hand washing, but the food and wine makes up for it. Cyrus can tell you what to say and when. Oh, and Henry should fall asleep before the end, but that's really dependant on his nap time. Last year," she says, a note of wistfulness creeping into her voice, "he fell asleep on Chuck while he was eating his bread, and every time one of us tried to take it he held it tighter so Chuck had to keep him there until we were done"
"And how is Charles? Cyrus said that the table would be too empty without him"
Blair smiles instinctively, "he's ok. Apparently all it takes to get a European workforce moving is the imminent threat of Chuck Bass. But he wanted me to tell you he's grateful you could make it in his place"
"Well we're more than happy to fill in. Besides, any excuse to see the two of you-" he nods to Henry, "is always welcome"
Blair softens, trying to think of a way to convince him to stay longer. Henry chooses that moment to toddle up to the couch, happily clambering up into her lap with ease, and proudly pronounces his new favourite French word, Roman applauding from the rug.
"I told you he was a natural" he declares, "we'll have you fluent in no time mon petit"
"Can daddy speak French?" Henry asks, trying to stifle a yawn into his sleeve.
"Oui" Blair confirms, "daddy wouldn't have a hotel in Paris if he couldn't"
"I wanna-" he yawns again, "speak French"
"You will" Blair hums, stroking his hair, "Pépé Roman can you teach you more tomorrow before he and Grand-père go home"
Henry whines, fussing into the crook of her neck, "but I wanna do it now"
Her cheeks flush, fear that everyone's secretly judging her maternal instincts creeping over her skin, but she tries to keep her voice level, "no, baby. I think it might be naptime" she runs a hand through his hair to soothe him.
At the same Harold reaches across to stroke his cheek, the two of them calming Henry in tandem, "I'm sure we can stay another day. After all, Charles isn't due back for a while and I'm sure he'd appreciate Henry being bilingual by the time he does"
Henry relents at that, sleepily nodding against Blair's collarbone.
"Sorry mama" he murmurs against her skin.
"It's ok" she coos, "patience isn't exactly in your genes" she laughs softly.
"Apparently your maman used to ask to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's before she could say breakfast" Roman teases as he stands up, the movement causing Monkey to stand too.
"But I knew how to say Tiffany's which was the important part" Blair tosses back, shifting Henry in her arms.
As if he's as in-tune with her as his master is Monkey comes over, nudging Henry's arm up so he can hold onto her neck. Blair pats his head in gratitude, hoisting Henry firmly onto her hip to take him upstairs.
"I'll be right back" she whispers, careful not to disturb the quiet that's comfortably settled over the room.
She takes the stairs slowly, pausing outside her and Chuck's room as Henry stirs. She winces, gently rubbing his back to try and get him back to sleep.
"Mommy," his little voice is muffled by her shoulder, "I-I wasn't really sad"
"What do you mean?"
"I jus' wanted Grand-père to stay more"
Blair laughs as she rounds the stairs to the fifth floor, "my little schemer" she sighs happily, kissing his head soundly, "daddy's going to be so proud of you"
__
The sky is ink outside, tiny highlights of stars just peeking out between the clouds as Blair finally shuts her laptop, handing it off to Dorota so she doesn't have to think about work until Monday, stretching her arms out and flopping back against the chaise lounge. She flicks through her planner, crossing off old deadlines and making sure the new ones are there.
Dorota comes back in with a glass of milk and a small box of macarons, placing them on the side table. Blair absentmindedly sips the milk, scrunching her face as it slides down her throat.
"Dorota how long has this milk been open for, it's disgusting"
"It same milk Mr Henry had earlier, and he didn't complain"
"Well maybe it was left out too long, throw it out before you leave"
Dorota nods, taking the offending glass away, "of course Miss Blair. Do you want different snack?"
Blair tentatively bites into a macaron, considering it in her mouth, "it's not the best I've ever eaten, but it'll do"
Dorota moves to fluff the pillows, "is your appetite feeling better?" she asks casually, "you know Mr Henry not eat vegetables when you don't"
Blair sighs, chewing another macaron, "I thought it was but everything's still making me feel sick, and that awful milk isn't helping. Maybe it was that restaurant Serena took me to for lunch, I knew I shouldn't trust a Humphrey recommendation"
Dorota hums in agreement, before taking the glass back downstairs. Blair takes a minute to assess her body, thinking back to when she started to feel sick. It wasn't last week, she ate and drank normally, and Henry didn't bring anything back from any of his playgroups because he's feeling ok, so it must have been that restaurant. It's the only outlier in her well planned schedule.
Her schedule. That's it.
For the last few days she's had the irritating feeling she's forgotten something, despite regular checking and double checking. She thought it was just her usual stress response, what with Chuck still in Paris and having to solo parent while still running Waldorf Designs. Her brain's running on overdrive so naturally it starts thinking that she's overlooked something, even if she hasn't, causing her perfectionism to come back out in full force and leave her with this irritating self doubt. But still her stomach twists as she turns the pages of her planner, her handwriting blurring into one swooping mess until she finally comes to a stop.
Red ink marks her ovulation and period dates, still left over from when she thought there was a chance for conceiving this month. Red ink marks the last three days. Her stomach untwists, nerves fluttering out from her core through her body. She's late.
Her fingers tremble a little as she shuts her planner, trying to not get too excited. After all, she's been late before and it hasn't meant anything. But then again they weren't actively trying any of those times. Her head swims as she stands, placing her planner on her vanity and busying herself with tidying her makeup just to keep her hands busy.
Dorota comes back, informing her that the milk has been disposed of. She almost returns to preparing the bed, but Blair turns her around.
"I'm ok now Dorota" Blair says with a hopefully convincing amount of enthusiasm.
Dorota eyes her suspiciously, "really? Because I more than happy to stay-"
"No" Blair exclaims, straightening her slip before speaking again, "I mean no, I'll be fine. Really!" she starts steering Dorota towards the door.
"Miss Blair are you sure? I don't want you being sick alone"
"I won't be. Goodnight!" she chirps as she shuts the door, her heartbeat thrumming in her chest.
She almost skips back to bed, picking her phone up and dialing Chuck's number before she fully realises. Her skin hums against their headboard, excitement coursing through her entire body now. So much for being calm, she thinks, as Chuck finally picks up.
His voice is thick as he speaks, "hello?"
"Chuck!" she cries, immediately remembering the time difference and wincing internally, "sorry, my love. I didn't mean to wake you up"
"It's fine" he drawls, no doubt turning over and checking his clock, so she does the same, working out that it's 3am for him right now, "are you and Henry ok? What's wrong?"
Her grin is audible, "nothing's wrong, exactly. Just that I'm late"
There's a moment of silence, of him trying to decipher her words with the sleep swimming in his brain, "you're... late"
"Mm-hmm" she trails off, letting him mentally fill in the rest.
"How late?"
"Only a few days"
"Have you taken a test?"
"Not yet. I was going to wait until you came home"
"You don't have to wait"
"I want to" she says firmly, "if and when the test is positive I want you to be here"
His voice softens, and not just because of the late hour, "if you insist"
"I do" Blair takes a breath before speaking again, "tell me not to get too excited"
"I thought you couldn't task me" he teases.
"Consider this an exception"
"Don't get excited, Waldorf"
"Fine" she sighs, "don't get your hopes up either, Bass"
"I love you"
"I love you too. See you in-" she checks the date on her phone, "three days and twenty-three hours"
"See you in three days, twenty-two hours and fifty-nine minutes. Call me if anything changes"
"I will. Goodnight Chuck"
"Goodnight Blair"
Blair grins to herself as she settles back against the pillows, resting her hands over her stomach. It doesn't mean anything, she repeats in her head. But, she can't quite silence the voice that's wishing it does.
__
Cool air whips against Blair's skin, against the trees, against the huddle of other parents in the playground that she's trying to avoid. It's not her ideal Saturday morning, but as Henry can't play basketball she figured letting him climb and run and swing would make up for it. She sips her coffee, pulling her coat tighter, and scratches Monkey's head.
"I hope he doesn't bruise his knee again" she murmurs to herself, "last time he only stopped crying because Chuck put him on his shoulders and I-" she pauses, looking down at Monkey's almost bemused expression, "am talking to a dog. Great. And stop looking at me like that, I know you learned it from your master"
She perches on a bench, debating whether to pretend to be on her phone to prevent anyone from talking to her. But then Henry waves from the top of the climbing frame, his little face lighting up as he spots her, and she waves back, and she knows she can't afford to miss a moment. He's growing up so fast, she thinks, and if she really is pregnant then he won't be their baby boy for much longer. But it's beautiful to watch him grow up, and actually be there for all of his milestones and all of the mundane. It's why she and Chuck want to do it all over again.
Henry comes hurtling down the slide, dusting his coat off before running over to her.
Blair laughs as he climbs up next to her on the bench, "did you have fun?"
He nods animatedly, "yeah. I didn't fall today!"
She hugs him, "you didn't. You're becoming such a big boy now"
"I am?" he asks, little fingers patting Monkey's head.
"Well," she leans in to whisper, "between you and me, you'll always be my baby-" she squeezes him into her lap making him giggle, "but you are two-and-three-quarters now..."
"So am I'm gonna be three soon? 'Cause daddy said when I'm three he'll let me walk Monkey. Can I do it now?"
Blair laughs again, moving to stand up, "you're not three yet, so no. But I'm sure we can practice"
The three of them head out of the playground, Henry opting to walk so Blair pushes his empty stroller while holding Monkey's leash and Henry's hand, making sure there's no chance of anyone getting tangled. Sunlight breaks through the clouds, bathing them in soft warmth as they walk. It's peaceful, walking at their own pace around to the duck pond to say hello before they go to Lily's for brunch.
So peaceful, in fact, that Blair doesn't notice the auburn haired young woman walking the other way pushing her own stroller do a double take before squealing at a pitch that Monkey registers first.
"Blair!"
She freezes, rapidly trying to identify the figure pulling her sunglasses down and striding in their direction. A model? A former model? Yes, it dawns on her, a Waldorf Designs model who abruptly left after their fall/winter 2016 photoshoot last year. At the time Blair assumed she simply went to rehab and didn't want anyone to know, but the real reason is squirming in the bedazzled stroller next to her.
"Mckenna!" she faux-enthuses back, accepting the air kiss she gives her, "you look... wonderful"
Annoyingly she does, her figure not showing any indication of ever growing a baby. Blair peeks into the stroller, estimating that the baby can't be older than four months, and is vividly reminded that four months after Henry's birth she still couldn't zip her own dress up and the only sex position she was able to manage was missionary.
"Thank you" Mckenna coos, "we were just on our daily walk and I thought it couldn't be you, but then I saw that cute little boy and knew it was!"
Blair smiles, genuinely this time even though she hadn't missed conversing with her, "Henry, this is Mckenna. She used to work for me"
Henry gives his best polite grin, peering into the stroller, "is that your baby?"
Mckenna laughs, a familiar trilling sound Blair also hadn't missed, "yes she is. I hope when she grows up she'll be as cute as you" she reaches to pinch his cheek but Monkey nudges her hand away just in time.
Blair nods through the rest of the vapid conversation, pretending to sympathise with the struggles of going from a model to a mother while seemingly working full time already. Henry is quiet as they finally leave Central Park, thankfully still on schedule for brunch, and Blair takes the opportunity to broach the subject that's been going round her head since last night.
"Did you like the baby?" she asks gently, stealing a glance down to assess his expression.
"No"
Blair halts, reaching down to scoop Henry up, no longer caring if they're all entangled, "you didn't? But babies are cute, aren't they?"
"Mm" he considers this, putting one small finger to his chin, "not really"
She adjusts him on her hip, "but what if you knew the baby really well?"
His eyebrows scrunch up, "how am I gonna know a baby? I'm not a baby"
"That's true" Blair sighs, acquiescing to her earlier statement, the distinct feeling that she's not going to win this one settling in her stomach.
They walk in silence for a few minutes. Of all the potential opinions Henry could have on babies, Blair wasn't expecting this. Neither is Chuck, she's sure, and she'll have to find a way to break it to him. Henry pulls at her coat sleeve, bringing her attention back to the present.
"That baby's head was a square" he announces, Blair trying not to laugh in his overly serious face, "I don't like that"
"Not every baby's head is a square. When you were born..." she trails off, remembering that she complained for four hours straight about having to push Chuck's slightly larger than average headed baby out of her, "well your head wasn't square"
"Good"
"What if," she pauses, still fearful to say the words out loud, to curse them once again, "what if mommy and daddy had a baby?"
Henry turns thoughtful again, "no square head?"
"No square head" she promises, bringing him around to look in his wide eyes.
"That's ok, I think"
She bounces him in her arms, "you think?" she teases.
"Yeah. But mommy?"
"Yes Henry?"
"No baby walking Monkey before I do"
Blair pretends to consider it, twisting to shake his little hand, "it's a deal"
Satisfied he asks to be set back down, taking his place in-between her and Monkey. He resumes chatting about everything and nothing, apparently much happier now he's voiced his concerns about babies. Blair knows he'll have more, the concept of sharing their attention completely foreign and a topic she's in no way attempting to broach without Chuck.
Still, to be able to consider the next steps makes her heart flutter. She knows that by waiting to take the test she's either avoiding their heartbreak or postponing their joy, but until she sees another negative test she can keep the warm feeling that rests in her chest for a little longer.
The city is warm by the time they reach the Van der Woodsen building, and Blair reminds herself that she doesn't believe in signs anymore. Although, as they say hello to Vanya, she can't quite shake the feeling that signs have a habit of being real when it comes to her and Chuck, and the warmth blossoms throughout her whole body. Just a few more days, she thinks as they cross the lobby. She can wait that long.
For now, though, she carries the warmth up to brunch, her secret burning brighter than the sun outside.
__
For the last few hours Blair's felt uncannily like she's preparing for a first date. Even though, ironically, before her first ever official date with Chuck she felt more relaxed than ever. Hopefully tonight will end the same way, though.
She manages to get Henry to sleep on-time, promising him that in the morning he can come and get in bed with them. She worries at first that he'll be too excited, his little face lighting up and energy returning, but thankfully by the time he's bathed he goes down easily, whispering to his teddy bear that they're going to get in mommy and daddy's very big bed tomorrow so they need to get to sleep fast.
It gives her time to focus on decidedly less sweet matters, but with just as much excitement.
She settles on their bed, adjusting the pillows behind her and trying to quell the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Whatever happens next, whatever happens when they see the result on that plastic stick in a few days time, doesn't matter. Not right now. Right now is for the two of them to just have fun. And Blair has very much been missing her and Chuck's brand of fun.
The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs makes her heart swell, anticipation flowing through her veins. Finally.
Their bedroom door opens slowly, letting the flickering candlelight light stretch out across the wooden hallway. Blair rolls her shoulders back, wicked grin forming on her lips as Chuck strides through the doorframe, and she sees his eyes spark with lust as he takes in her completely nude- aside from one of his ties- form lounging on their bed.
"Welcome home, my love" she purrs, shifting her legs just to tease him with a glimpse of what's between.
He walks forwards slowly, casually, pausing just shy of their bed, "did you watch Pretty Woman again?" he muses, discarding his jacket onto the floor.
"Well I had to do something to keep myself occupied," she replies, shifting forwards to close the distance between them.
Chuck follows suit, perching on the edge of the bed, "and how else did you keep yourself occupied?" he asks, sneaking his hand up her bare leg.
Blair hums, "oh, work mostly. And taking care of our beautiful boy-"
"Which he gets from you," he murmurs, inching his fingers higher.
She laughs, "are you flirting with me, Chuck Bass?"
"Always," he husks, "but don't let that distract you. Go on"
"Well there was one other way I passed the time..." she leans in so their lips almost brush, "by fantasising about having sex with my husband"
"And what exactly did those fantasies entail?"
Blair grins slyly up at him, "why don't I show you?"
She lifts his fingers away from her thigh, leading them up to the tie hanging down her body. Without further instruction he wraps it around his hand, pulling her into him so they can kiss at last. Weeks worth of hunger and need and longing pour from their lips into each others' mouths, their tongues meeting in the middle.
Blair moans into him, savouring the familiar taste of her husband, letting him slowly lower her down almost to the mattress without breaking apart. He keeps his grip firm on the tie, holding her weight up and allowing her to work on removing his clothing. And, maybe, allowing her to gratuitously run her hands over his body too. It's funny, she thinks as she tries to refrain from ripping Chuck's shirt open because he really does look very sexy in it so she probably shouldn't deny her future self the pleasure of seeing him wear it again, that for all of their co-ordination over the years they've never actually worn the same thing at the same time. Well, until he single-handedly tosses his tie onto the floor in a gesture that makes Blair extremely glad she's already naked.
She pouts as her back hits the sheets, purposefully averting her gaze from his almost bare chest to look into his eyes, "I thought we were matching"
"Well I'm sure that we-" he trails his eyes hungrily down her body, "still can be"
Blair gasps in delight as he whips the tie from her neck, leaving it under her body. He doesn't drag it upwards to bind her hands as she expects, instead he uses it to pull her hips up, letting her legs spread and wrap around his still clothed hips. She finally pulls his shirt off, a smile curling at her lips at the much missed sight of his bare chest. Her fingers rake through the dark hair covering his skin, before trailing down to his stomach and teasingly slipping just beneath the waistband of his pants.
Before she can reach in any further he helpfully pulls the zipper down, enabling Blair to slide her palm under his boxers, her fingers instinctively wrapping around his erection, her face warming with delight. It's so familiar, the feeling of his hot hard skin beneath her fingertips. So erotic. And, in the words of someone Blair really shouldn't think of at a time like this, it's definitely not enough.
Chuck reads her mind, it seems, briefly lifting her fingers away so that he can swiftly shift his pants and boxers down. If Blair thought her face was warm before, it's positively on fire now.
He leans down to kiss her, his hand slowly moving to cup her folds. It takes Blair a moment to realise what's happening, his fingers gently running up and down her wet skin, before she grins against his lips and slides her palm around his erection again.
"Now," Chuck breathes against her mouth, "I think this is a much better way of matching, don't you?"
"Oh, very"
They kiss again, Blair trailing her fingers over his hot skin around to his hips, trying to coax him forwards and finally give each other the pleasure they've been longing for. Although apparently her husband doesn't mind waiting a little longer. He keeps his left hand stroking her folds, never quite going further inside just to torment her, and moves his right hand to stroke across her nipples while kissing her neck. Blair whimpers, unable to contain herself anymore. She's shown remarkable patience for the last few weeks, and, with every touch and stroke and pinch and tease, she feels it leaving her body. Fast.
"Chuck," she pants, pulling his head from the crook of her neck so she can look him in the eye, "please"
"Please what?" he taunts, still far too composed for Blair's liking.
"If I wanted to just be touched-" she leans up to brush her lips against his, "I could do it myself"
His eyes darken, "but you can't-" he slowly eases his hips forwards, the tip of his erection almost where she needs him, "do this"
He enters her slowly, Blair's breath catching before she starts to relax around him, growing reaccustomed to the feeling of him inside her. The pressure is oddly comforting, the sensation of him filling her making her eyes roll back. Her hands blindly find his shoulders, sliding up his neck to hold his face, and her eyelids flutter open as he starts to move, the two of them drinking each other in and absorbing the moment. Until, that is, Blair can't stop the words that have been loosely forming in her brain from flying out of her mouth.
"I think you were made to fit me" she blurts out, her cheeks immediately flushing.
Chuck quirks an eyebrow, "oh really?"
"Shut up" she groans, running a hand through his hair to try to distract him.
"You're the one who said it. Besides," he nudges her nose up with his, kissing across one pink cheek to murmur in her ear, "I think you're right"
To prove it he lifts her thighs up, forcing her to cross her legs around his hips, and thrusts deeper, perfectly so, it seems, as Blair moans louder. There's just enough space between their bodies for Chuck to roam one hand over her breasts again, cupping and squeezing them in time with his hips moving against her. Then he dips his head down, kissing down the path his fingers made, and nuzzles his face between her breasts, his lips right over her thundering heart.
Blair tips her head back, trying to focus on how her hips are moving against his and how his tongue is lapping over her nipples and how tight her body feels and how she's missed this so desperately. She tangles her fingers in his hair and pulls him back up to kiss him, their lips parting and tongues colliding. With her other hand she presses her nails into his back in a not-so-delicate plea to stay exactly where he is. She doesn't need to guide him, she never has, but it still sends a rush of power through them both, electricity sparking from her skin to his.
Chuck pulls back from her mouth, and Blair pouts at the brief loss of contact. For a moment she simply looks up at him, and, if she was mad at his composure earlier, she definitely isn't anymore. His hair is tousled, his skin shining from sweat, but it just makes her even more attracted to him if that's even physically possible. Her heart swells in her chest, her whole body starting to come untethered with pleasure. Chuck tucks a strand of hair she didn't even realise was loose behind her ear, before catching the look in her eye, and he slowly slides his fingers down the length of her body until he reaches the miniscule gap between their hips, and slides his palm down until he finds her clit.
"Technically," Chuck drawls, fingers slick against her skin, "you could do this by yourself too"
Blair hums, caressing his cheek, "I could. But-oh!-I prefer it this way-oh God!"
He kisses her slowly and deeply as her orgasm washes over her, weeks worth of build-up and tension coursing through her body until it leaves her limbs heavy. She hazily registers Chuck's own release, part of her hoping that it's not as necessary as before. Then, there's a moment of parting, the absence of pressure inside of her, and the weight of him rolling off of her and resting at her side. Blair grins, her heart still thudding through her chest, and turns to face him.
"I love you" she sighs blissfully, nestling her chin against his shoulder, damp skin on damp skin, and reaches her arm across to hold him for a moment.
"I love you too" is Chuck's heavily exhaled response, his hand coming to rest on her arm.
They lay together for a moment, catching their breath and basking in the glow of one another. Blair shifts slightly, something rubbing her skin beneath her, and her face grows hot. Chuck silently reaches between her legs and pulls out his forgotten, and now damp, tie.
Blair groans into his shoulder. She's not embarrassed, exactly, she never could be, not with Chuck, but she still instinctively flushes at the sight of the sticky fabric.
"I'll buy you another one" she murmurs, glancing up to see his eyes sparkling at her discomfort.
"I'm never going to say no to your sartorial taste, but I am keeping this as a trophy"
She snorts, "what are you, a tie serial killer?"
"Clearly that would be you," he teases, "though I'm surprised it's never happened before"
"How would it?"
The gleam in his eyes is nothing short of lascivious, "well if you put your-"
She swats his arm, "we can cover the specifics another time. For now-" she swings her leg across his hips and sits up to straddle his lap, "we have something very important to catch up on"
Before she can kiss him he pulls back, tutting playfully and nodding towards their en-suite. Blair rolls her eyes but gets up anyway, the stickiness between her thighs slowly slipping down her skin, and forcing her to do an awkward shuffle until she reaches the bathroom door. An unopened pregnancy test rests on the countertop between their sinks, left out from when she was looking through the mirror cabinet for something earlier, and she pauses for a moment at the sight of it. Then, she picks it up and haphazardly shoves it back in, closing the cabinet door and returning to her task at hand.
It's fine, she repeats to herself as she sits down and sets about cleaning up, the porcelain cool against her still warm skin. Another day doesn't make any difference. Even though, as she finishes wiping, the pang of guilt that's been lurking inside her stomach hits her again. She's going to take it, she is, she just needs a little more time.
So, as she flushes and washes her hands, she puts it out of her mind. Her teenage years of obsessive denial of certain events makes it slightly easier to do, but the pang it her gut still lingers as she shuts the bathroom door. It's still fine, she repeats like mantra. Absolutely and utterly fine.
__
A whirlwind, if asked, how Blair would describe the last few days. Chuck's return sends Henry into an adorable state of toddler euphoria, the two of them practically joined at the hip and resulting in him sleeping in their bed almost every night. And, although she wouldn't want it any other way, she must admit that finally having one morning just for her and Chuck is something of a relief after days of being woken up with little fingers poking her face or a teddy bear in her side.
They intertwine messily under the duvet, his warm fingers tracing nonsensical patterns across her thigh. She sighs happily into his mouth, content to spend however long she can in this slow, peaceful bliss, even if she misses work. Her palm rests on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Truly, she doesn't need anything other than this right now.
Chuck kisses across her jaw, down and back up her neck until he reaches her ear. She laughs softly at his ridiculous detour across her body, but she would do the same to him.
His breath is hot against her skin, "take the test" he husks, kissing under her earlobe.
Blair pretends she doesn't hear him, shifting so that she's almost in his lap. Chuck doesn't react to her avoidance of the situation. Instead, he smoothly pulls her fully onto him and kisses her again, resting his hands on her backside.
"Take. The. Test" he murmurs between kisses.
Blair sighs, unhappily this time, "I will. Later"
"You said that yesterday," he chides playfully, "and the day before. And the day-"
"Fine," she huffs, pushing up off of him and their bed, "but you owe me later"
"I eagerly await your orders"
She leaves the bathroom door half open, and quickly retrieves the box from the back of her cabinet. Her stomach clenches at the sight of it, butterflies swirling inside of her. She swallows her fear down and opens the cardboard, skimming the instructions she's already overly familiar with.
It's an awkward angle, trying to get it in the right position underneath her, but she manages. It only takes a few seconds until she lifts it back up, careful not to drip anything on herself. Her eyes go wide.
Sticky globs of blood, the kind she's been dreading for a week, the kind she's been hoping to not see for nine months, splatter the stick. For a moment her brain freezes, unable to process the dripping stick in her hand. If there's blood, she thinks slowly, then it means her period's started. It means she mistook the cramping, and yesterday's headache, and the last few day's emotional ups and downs as nerves, not the pre-menstrual symptoms they were.
It means that she's not pregnant.
Her voice comes out somehow, the only word that she needs bubbling up her throat, "Chuck"
He saunters in, still tying his robe around his waist, "I thought it took-"
It takes him a moment to register the sight in front of him, Blair standing there, naked, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, the bloody pregnancy test still clutched in her hand. Then, something comes over him, a kind of calmness developed via fatherhood, and he gently sits her down on the toilet. Embarrassingly it takes her until now to notice the blood that's creeping down her thighs.
"Does it hurt?" he asks.
Blair nods.
"Ok. Don't move"
Blair nods again, letting him lift the pregnancy test out of her grasp. She watches as he wraps it in toilet paper and walks over to the double sink, presumably to throw it in the trash. Briefly she can hear him rummaging through the mirror cabinet, before he turns and leaves the bathroom altogether. It leaves her alone with her thoughts. And the blood. And the tears which have now started to fall down her cheeks. She sniffs, ungracefully so but she doesn't care right now.
It's been a long time since she felt shame, but that's the only name she can put to the awful feeling clawing at her throat and burning her face. How could she be so naïve? She knows that it's normal for periods to be just over a week late. Knows that she should've waited until two or three weeks went by before considering it. But she didn't. She let her heart control her head and now here she is, crying over a pregnancy that never existed because she wants it more than anything else.
It's also been a long time since she felt the need to talk to God. She doesn't know it she wants to go back down that road, since she's no longer lost enough to try it. Instead, she does something she hasn't done since she was eight. She talks to Audrey Hepburn.
"I know you had much worse experiences than this," she whispers into the heavy air, "but what am I doing wrong? There must be some kind of cosmic reason for this. Right? Am I cursed or something?"
As expected there's no answer, just the distant ticking of her clock. A hot tear drips from her chin to her thigh, and she watches silently as it dribbles into the sticky blood on the inside of her thigh.
Before she can pull herself together Chuck returns, her slip slung over his arm and a silver tray in hand. A glass of water rests next to two Tylenol tablets on a side plate, along with a folded pair of panties and a wrapped sanitary pad. He sets it down on the small side table next to a vase of peonies, nudging them so there's room.
"First," he hands her the plate and glass, letting her wash the tablets down before continuing, "let's get you clean"
"I can deal with-" she gestures to her messy legs, "this"
"Ok" is his simple reply.
He busies himself unwrapping her sanitary pad, sticking in in her underwear. As he kneels down to guide them over her feet and up her legs Blair doesn't feel shame anymore. Gratitude starts to replace it, making her teary for entirely different reasons.
"Arms please" he teases, using the phrase they say to Henry when helping him get dressed.
Blair obliges, letting him pull the slip over her head and her upper body, "you didn't have to do all of this" she says quietly.
His eyes shine as he looks at her, "you're my wife. I love you. Besides we've dealt with far worse in Henry's diapers, this is practically hygenic compared to that"
Blair snorts out a laugh, "I love you too. And I'm sorry"
He kisses her head, "you don't need to apologise to me. You haven't done anything wrong"
He helps her stand, Blair adjusting her panties and slip so they're comfortable. She washes her hands slowly, finally seeing her pale skin and tearstained cheeks in the mirror. Chuck helps her back to bed, telling her he already had Dorota let Veronica know that she'd be working from home for today.
"I missed this," Blair sighs as Chuck pulls the duvet up to keep her warm.
"Will you be alright while I get dressed? I can work here today if you need me to"
Blair shakes her head, "I'll be fine. Someone needs to keep the finest hotels in New York running, and I think you're the only one who can"
He kisses her gently, taking her hand in his. Blair feels her body grow warm again, but this time it's pure love flooding her veins. They'll be ok. No, they'll be better than ok because they're Chuck and Blair. They're going to get everything they want, they always do.
Blair clings onto the thought as she tries to drift into a nap, despite the ache in her abdomen. It's a lifeboat in the sea of her swirling thoughts, trying to keep the positivity she had over the last week. She needs to focus on the future. A future that, she thinks just as she nods off, will have another baby in. She's sure. Her manifestation skills have paid off so far in her life. They just need to keep trying.
A little Spuffy comic strip, I watched a panel from I think 2011, and James Marsters said he wished they included a scene of Spike putting on his eyeliner in a mirror, and I couldn't get this out of my head
The idea of Spike looking in a mirror and just seeing nothing is amazing
ellievsbear
amandla
stormborns
romaincrisis
areudirty
