A/N: I'm officially in love with that last scene. *hugs tightly* I clearly just needed a good night's sleep to truly appreciate the episode. XD haha. But yes, anyways, I'm taking a huge risk by finishing this off before I hardly have any reviews, but…*shrug* I really want to get it up & I'm inspired. Reason enough for me. Heheh. I'll really try to have MMB up soon. I'm still trying to figure out the outline for it. ;p

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

…

He'd be lying if he said he'd planned this, because he hadn't. There had been nothing aside from hate sex with Blair on his mind for the last week. Tonight changed things because they'd acted together, as one unit, to defend Serena Van der Woodsen, who simply had a knack for getting into trouble by existing. It had been nice, wonderful even. He'd set out to call her across the street for another rendevou, but on the way back over he'd overheard the situation and he had stepped up, just like Blair told him later. It had left him feeling with a better feeling than destroying or fucking her ever could. So, he'd stayed there, at that place with her, with that type of relationship. When he'd come home with her several hours later, it hadn't been with the intention of seducing her. It'd been just because he wanted to be with her, to reminisce. He didn't tease or deny her when she suggested an after-ballet celebration, just the two of them. Because it wasn't romantic. Glorying over their victory, drinking champagne, sitting in front of the fireplace, reminiscing about how wonderful it was to be them again.

There wasn't tension when they sat there just looking at each other, having admitted to finally made it to the friendship status. But there was something. He had to say something, he told himself. He'd lunge at her if he didn't, and then what could they call it? It wouldn't be hate-sex. And hell if he'd let her call it friends with benefits sex. He didn't care for that bullshit either. The only explanation would be that it would really mean something, and he had a feeling the only one that would end up broken-hearted from the morning after conversation would be him. Because he'd dared to think she still loved him when she never would in a million years, not after what he'd done. The stunt he'd pulled tonight didn't even come close to cracking the iceberg. It'd elevated their status from enemies to friends, but that was only after several weeks of torture.

Last names was what defined them, at least, it had been in the beginning. Very slowly it had declined when they'd become more intimate lovers than teasing counterparts, but now there was a sweetness in the names that seemed to only belong to them. When she leaned forward to hug him, it took his breath away. His face nestled into her hair, took in the scent of her body, the feel of the baby blue dress as it fit along her curves. He could feel her tucking her head against his neck too and it sent shivers racing all over his body. He didn't want to go. He didn't want this moment to end. It was too perfect. After everything that had happened, it was too perfect. His heart proceeded to break all over again when she pulled away.

They lingered there, their gazes steady on their faces, their eyes, their lips. Neither stepped away far enough that would suggest that one of them were to leave or to make the other leave. He didn't think he should get too hopeful, but he liked that she didn't move. He liked that they were friends now and that she didn't want him to leave, not really. She hadn't been the one that had suggested he go. That had been him 100%. He'd felt he hadn't had another choice, not if he wanted to get home without falling into a million pieces just on the elevator ride down. But now things were different. In that brief instant, things were different.

Her head tilted towards him and he pressed his lips to hers when they met. The feel of her supple, pouty lips against his right then sent more electrifying crackling fire through him than during all of the hate sex that had developed over the last week. Because this meant something. This wasn't to get over each other, and it wasn't just because they were in the right place at the right time with the right person. It was possible that it was because they were just overjoyed that they didn't have to fight with each other anymore or go by unnecessary means to move on with their lives. Maybe it was because he didn't really want to go and she didn't want him to leave, because they were friends. And friends shouldn't have to leave.

Any one of those reasons could have inspired Blair Waldorf to lean forward and take Chuck's lips captive, to allow him to carry her bridal style up to her bedroom so he could lavish her there exquisitely, sweetly, tenderly, like the queenly goddess she was, the precious angel he knew her to be in his arms. But for him it was all love. He was still so desperately, madly in love with her. Perhaps his actions up until now since coming back from overseas during the summer could be rationalized in one way or another, but there was one thread of truth, that while sometimes was buried, rang true, clear as a bell.

He was still so very in love with her. Her heart. Her body. Her wit. Her charm. He would never find another woman like Blair Waldorf in his entire life, and he knew it. There was no point in trying to put perfect people on the scale that he knew would never measure up. When he fought for her, everything he said was the truth. When she'd kissed him and he'd reciprocated, this night, after they'd confirmed their official friendship, it had spoken a thousand words. And in past experience, actions always spoke louder than words for them. Declarations of love, apologies, hate threats, all of it needed to be said, but it was set in stone with the actions that followed. Confirmation of friendship didn't need sweet, tender, heavenly sex to accompany it. In fact, it didn't make sense to do so. The silent admission that they weren't over each other did however.

They were always so silent when choosing to love in secret, both want to scream at the top of their lungs but closing off themselves to avoid losing their voice, getting hurt, dying. He could have sworn she still loved him. Aside from driving Eva out of town – which still could possibly be interpreted as an act of jealousy – Blair had done nothing that showed she didn't love him anymore. She'd said she didn't, and that hurt like hell, but he couldn't see any direct admission that she did. It was overanalyzing, sure, but when it came to Blair Waldorf, that was all he did. Because it hurt like hell that he couldn't have her. He'd give anything for her now, and he wouldn't even redo things so that he could have remained numb all this time and not have to deal with the high and lows love brought with it in its wake. He would have always chosen her. She made him feel alive, and loved, and wanted. And that kiss tonight gave him hope. Because all it could possibly confirm was that she wasn't over him, even if she'd deny it in the morning, which he was sure she would. The subject was so touchy for them, even if it had only been brought up a few times.

I love Blair Waldorf, he thought. Always have. Always will.

He carried her up those stairs and over that threshold bridal style, because it gave more hope to imagine. Not a day went by that he didn't wonder what it'd be like if she'd said yes.

….

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Please review. =)