tampered | LOG; ongoing

LOG; ongoing

When; Sunday, September 6th
Rating; PG-13 for now lol
Characters;

miss_waldorf ~~Blair and Chuck~~
Summary; her end of the deal
Log;

This was a place she found uncomfortable, but comfort was never something she would seek anyway. She would rather have status, success, fame and the admiration --no, the envy of everyone. She would rather be most wanted and miserable than irrelevant yet happy, if such pairings were even possible. Blair Waldorf may have been a fish out of water in this place, but given the correct motivation, she still knew how to pretend as if she was not drowning in air.

Her secret? Lots and lots of preparation.

She had done her little number on stage, movements perfect and practiced. Once in awhile she faked a mischievous smile and sent it over to the lone audience sitting in the darkness. The rest of the time she pretended no one was watching, because thinking about anyone seeing her this way made her head spin. She could not decide why.

Finishing with a final twist on the floor, she grinned at him as if she had just won a trophy. It was a little too innocent perhaps, but all she could think about was how she had done it exactly according to the routine. It was what success meant to her. She shifted herself and let her feet dangle off the stage, waiting for his reaction. Her heart was pounding out of her ribcage, but she still knew how to pretend otherwise.

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He was watching her with pleasure. She was Blair Waldorf, after all, and she was dancing just for him. So of course he was enjoying it. But while incredibly sensual, and hitting all the right buttons, the dance lacked the spontaneity and light humor that accompanied her previous performance.

Nevertheless, Chuck loved every mment of that dance.

When she finished, he smiled and resisted the first instinct to give Blair an applause. Instead, he took two champagne glasses he prepared beforehand and with a soft smile he walked up to her.

"Flawless," he told her and handed her one of the glasses.

Blair giggled with delight at his comment, but stopped herself after realizing that she might have sounded like Miley Cyrus on an overdose of sugar, or something worse, when she needed to be Grace Kelly all the time. So she took the glass of champagne from him, the corners of her lips quirking into another smile, one that would strike fear into anyone else who was not Chuck Bass. But this was Chuck, and she was Blair.

"Of course," she said, raising the glass in a toast before taking a sip.

For a moment she pondered on things to say but then decided against it. It was his turn to make a move. Like everything else about them, this too was a well-calculated game with victory as the only end goal. The only.

He leaned forward, took a sip of his champagne and raised the other hand to touch her shoulder. He stopped himself before he touched the skin. He could feel the warmth of her skin, but there was still space between his fingers and her shoulder. With a soft smile he moved his fingers up and down, as if caressing her shoulder.

"Such a pity you introduced that one little rule. I could show you how amazing you were. I'm afraid words can't really describe it," he told her in a low,seductive tone.

That was almost a victory. If he had touched her then he would have lost, which also meant she would have won. A broken rule meant he was instantly disqualified. It would have been even better than a mere victory.

There was almost a pout on her lips, mixed with a repressed smile, but Blair would rather die than let it show that he had such an effect on her. So instead she looked at him with mock indifference. A cruel smile graced her lips. She drew her leg up, slowly tracing the length of it with a finger. This felt like her final gamble, and she was so scared of losing.

"Rules are rules," she replied. "I hope you don't intend to break them, Bass."

"All rules are there to be broken, Blair," He told her with a chuckle, but he moved away. Times when he proceeded without girl's consent were long over. And it was Blair. Things would be as she wanted them.

"There are some snacks, if you're interested... It would be a shame to say our goodbyes immediately..." And he didn't really want to let her go. Not just yet. Maybe they would manage to have a conversation without throwing insults at each other. Who knew.

This was how it was. He would play his games and she would put up her defenses and then he would back off, so she loses anyway. This was how it was all the time. She felt physically sick at the thought. If rules were made to be broken then why didn't he just break it? She felt so mad she wanted to throw the glass on the floor and stomp on it until there was only dust --but in Blair Waldorf's world, rules are made to obeyed, even unwritten ones.

She downed the whole glass to calm herself, teeth clenched and her gaze on the floor. The battle was not over yet.

"If you were so pleased with my dance, won't you give me a boon?"

He raised his eyebrow. Something wasn't right. Or she wouldn't look like her plan wasn't working. Unless... Unless it wasn't working.

He kept his eyes on her, trying to see through the mask, but he couldn't see any clues as to what she was expecting.

"And what would you want me to give you?" he asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

The reason why he could not see through the mask was because she was putting on none. And she thought it was very sad that they could not recognize each other's true faces. They dealt in surfaces, everyone from their world did.

"I would have to ask my mother," Blair replied with a wan smile, meeting his gaze. She let the sentence hang between them for longer than necessary.

"What do you think she would say?"

At first he didn't understadn what she was asking and a frown appeared on his face before he smoothed it out. He highly doubted that Eleanor Waldorf would ever advice her daughter anything but runningfar away from Chuck Bass. Frankly, he never really thought Blair's mother liked him much. No surprise there, really.

"It depends," he said slowly. "Though part of me expects you to ask for someone's head on a silver platter..."

He meant it as a joke, especially in the face of their recent Network discussion. BUt you never knew with Blair.

Blair granted him a smile for that, and if he knew no better then he might think it was real. But had he asked about her mother though, he might be comforted by her answer that she was sure Eleanor simply did not care.

She said, "I want...," then let it hang in the air.

Hopping off the stage, she stumbled a little on her heels. She had thrown her dress to somewhere at the back of the room and gathering up her clothes afterward would be nothing short of ungraceful. So she had brought a spare (http://www.net-a-porter.com/product/47524), something surprisingly comfortable for Blair Waldorf. Clicking her heels over to where she left her bag, she sent him a reassuring smile, "I'm still thinking."

Blair took her dress out, holding it up before realizing that she made a major oversight. She frowned dramatically. "My straps are gonna show." Still, it was better than having to look all around the venue for all of her stuff.

She dressed quietly, considering the words in her head before muttering to him, "I want you to tell me something true."

He watched her as she got dressed. Not only because she presented a great view, all grace and control. And not because he was waiting for the answer as to what would she want from him. Other than those three little words.

And then she told him. And Chuck Bass found himself at a loss of words. Tell me something true, she said. And there were so many ways he could get out of this...

"Something?" He asked quietly. "Anything?"

"Yes, anything." Blair turned around to face him, still picking at her dress to make it fit just so. It was when he asked that she realized she had earned herself an advantage, another weapon, so to speak. She could not think of anything she could lose, while he had everything. Either way, it was now up to him.

She tilted her head to the side in question, reaching a hand up to play with her hair. "Something true. Tell me anything."

"The grass is green," he said and took a step towards her. Anything means anything, right Blair? "Two by two is four. Stock options of Bass Industries fell down three points after my father's death," he continued making his way to Blair. "I don't think I'll ever understand Nate's fascination with the Brooklyn bunch, nor I particularly want to."

He leaned forward and whispered the final truth into her ear. "I think you're perfect. YOu always were and always will."

Blair tilted her head to the side in question. She was almost disappointed, thinking that he was only going to tell her that one thing, but when he continued, she knew that he was leading onto something else. She stifled a smile at his comment about the Brooklyn bunch, even if her heart was pounding hard with anticipation for what he meant by it all.

Throat tightening at his final words, she threw her gaze down at her feet, trying to blink away whatever evidence of tears there were in her eyes. He had told her everything, everything, but the one thing she needed to hear. But didn't he say it wasn't because it was untrue? He would rather wait.

Looking back up, Blair smiled at him. It was small, but honest, which was more than can be said about most things she did these days. Then she broke her own rule, placing a soft kiss on his cheek --she didn't dare to kiss him on his lips-- and leaned her forehead against his. "I'll wait for you."

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LOG; ongoing

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