It's the same line every time.
"It's just a business arrangement, Bass."
Then she zips up her skirt, primly pulls on her Louboutins, and exits.
-
He sees her around campus, his arm laced around the latest blonde bimbo unapologetically, cold New Haven air whipping angrily through his scarf.
She never acknowledges him.
Never smiles.
Never waves (Blair Waldorf waving?).
Never even glances his way.
He can't work out if following her to Yale was his greatest mistake or the best idea he ever had.
-
She always rings, though.
Eventually.
He always picks up with the same line, every time.
"Is this a booty call, Waldorf, or are you just drunk dialling?"
Tonight, she pauses at the other end of the line. He can feel himself hardening up at the muffled sound of her breathing. Shit.
"It's a mixture of both, actually."
-
She wrinkles her nose delicately as he lights up; even in annoyance she's beautiful, cheeks tinged post-coitally pink and breathing heavily.
"What? You never complained when Nathanial smoked the occasional doobie."
She sighs, propping herself up on one elbow and glaring down at him self-righteously.
"One, you're not Nate. Two, I'd prefer if we didn't discuss him whilst lying naked in bed together."
He inhales softly, closing his eyes as if blocking out the world.
"No, I'll never be Nate."
When he opens his eyes again, he's alone in bed and she's searching for her knickers.
"It's just a business arrangement, Bass."
-
It's the annual Upper East Side Christmas Gala when he sees her next.
She's arrived just before him, it appears. It occurs to him that he could have offered her a ride (they could've fucked in the back of his limo for old times' sake), then he remembers that that's not part of their "arrangement".
She's perfect, as always, talking excitedly to his ex-step-sister.
As the two of them part, he spots Nate heading across the room towards a certain petite brunette.
He needs a scotch.
-
He doesn't know who designed the seating chart but he's prepared to strangle them with his scarf.
Him, Blair and Nate.
He leans behind her and taps his ex-best-friend on the shoulder lazily, as though he doesn't get tearful when looking through photographs from the good old days.
"Nathanial, my man, how's Dartmouth treating you?"
"It's good, Chuck. It's good."
He amuses himself for the rest of the evening by estimating how many tiny bites Blair will force down of each course, watching Nate sneak terribly conspicuous glances at their ex, and flirting with the blonde across the table.
-
It all becomes a bit hazy after the fifth scotch and he steers himself haphazardly down a dark corridor.
"You're sleeping him again, Blair. It's painfully obvious."
Chuck stops just before the corner, ears pricked in full stalker mode, leaning against the wall to steady himself. Obviously Nate was more perceptive than he'd thought.
"I don't see what business it is of yours, Nate. We've barely spoken since Graduation."
"Fuck, don't you remember what he did to you? Leaving you stranded alone in Tuscany for a week? Cheating on you? Forcing his father to fire your new boyfriend after you brought him to that party at the Hamptons? Tormenting you for the whole of senior year?"
"I know, Nate, but when I need someone he's always there."
Chuck slid down the wall, memories of junior year flooding back painfully. There was silence for a moment, just long enough for Chuck to panic at the thought of discovery.
It was Nate who broke the silence.
"You deserve better."
When he hears the unmistakeable sound of lips crushing together and Blair's distinctive moan, Chuck turns to leave.
He needs another scotch.
-
It's the New Year after a Christmas break filled with whispers of Nate Archibald and Blair Waldorf.
Are they back together?
Aren't they just the perfect couple?
I wonder when he'll propose?
They're back at Yale and for once in his life he's happy to be away from New York.
"Is this a booty call, Waldorf, or are you just drunk dialling?"
"Cut the crap, Bass, get over here now and fuck me."
And the line goes dead.
-
She wrenches the door open forcefully and drags him in, practically tearing off his clothes in the process.
"What about Nate?" He manages to rasp out, as her small hands find his belt buckle. Immediately after he's spoken, her palms are against his chest in warning.
"I thought we'd gone over the rules for discussing Nate in bed."
"We're not in bed yet, Waldorf."
"Shut up."
-
The next morning starts the same as always: he lights up, they bicker and she hurriedly pulls clothes on.
He sits up, ready for the same line as always.
"I'm terminating our arrangement, Bass."
Then she zips up her skirt, pulls on her Louboutins and exits.
Shit.
-
Six months later, Eleanor Waldorf and Bart Bass announce their engagement at the penthouse before the invited guests who already knew, anyway.
She eyes him over the rim of her champagne glass before turning to Nate. A moment later, they're kissing tenderly and he's deciding which of the young female guests will be visiting his suite tonight.
Some things never change.
-
She's the Maid of Honour and he's the Best Man. Again.
Their eyes lock as they face each other on the podium, then her gaze darts to the groomsman next to him. Nate.
-
Several scotches later, he taps his wine glass impatiently. It's time for the Best Man's speech, he decides.
He looks down at his cue cards and begins. "Can I just start by saying how beautiful you look, Eleanor?"
There's mild applause and smiles at this, but he's only looking at one person. Blair. It's almost déjà vu, except for the large hand at her elbow and the hint of distraction in her eyes.
Sighing, he places the cards on the table and meets Blair's gaze once more.
"Growing up, I never believed in true love. It seemed ridiculous when all the adults I knew were just as dysfunctional as us kids. But then I understood, you just have to meet the right person or realise that someone's the right person. That's what has happened with my father and Eleanor, and it's truly beautiful. So I just hope that one day, I'll get my own chance at forever with the right woman."
"To the happy couple."
-
He waits on the dancefloor, impatiently.
"That was a quite a speech, Bass."
On cue, he sweeps her into his arms and twirls her around the dancefloor, tightening his hand around her waist possessively.
"I broke up with Nate."
Her fingers are in his hair now, he leans towards her, his lips aching to feel her kiss again.
"This time, Bass, I don't want any of that 'taking it slow' bullshit. That's not who we are, and it's not who I want us to be. Now take me to your suite so you can break your final taboo."
He captures her lips with his, and they get lost in each other momentarily before she pulls him off the dancefloor by his scarf.
-
The next morning, she doesn't leave and he doesn't light up, and when her eyes flutter open and focus on him, there's no distraction in her eyes.
"I fucking love you, Blair."
They don't leave his room for a week.
-
This is just my way of recovering from the season finale. Hope you liked it.
Review? I'll love you forever if you do
I might even write more oneshots.
Thank you for reading.
Caroline xoxo