Gossip Girl Fic: Hands Off

Title: Hands Off
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Pairing/Rating/Characters: Chuck/Nate, R.
Author’s Note: 1,300 words, written for bitchygrrl for the Vacation in Monaco challenge at chuck_nate. Written with the prompt: Nate as the one in control.
Summary: Push him far enough, and he’ll react.


The trouble with telling someone to stay away from you, Nate mused, is that on the Upper East Side, it’s a physical impossibility. Perhaps if he became a hermit and never left the penthouse (not an option) or maybe if he transferred to a public school (also not an option, according to his parents).

And even those options weren’t really options because there’d still be the society events that required awkward socializing with his ex-best friend. Nate had skipped out on the past two he knew Chuck would be attending. His mother was starting to get the faint lines in her forehead where her Botox had worn off and had warned him that the next one he skipped would result in him losing his Mastercard Gold for the week.

Normally, Nate was all for the peaceful avoidance style, (took too much effort to care otherwise) but being trapped like a rat in this bubble society… it was wearing him down and had him considering thoughts that were, to be honest, not his usual hands-off style.

And the problem with St. Jude’s, and attending the same school as the former best friend was that there were plenty of opportunities for… incidents. Like the one that had happened this morning in their shared AP American History class, resulting in detention. Or as they liked to call it at St. Jude’s: community service hours.

“Get to it, gentleman,” Mr. Hendley said, handing them both brooms, mops, and garbage bags. “Come get me when this whole place is spick and span.” He chuckled to himself as he walked away, pulling shut the door to the dusty clubhouse.

“Spick and span?” Chuck said, with a faint look of horror on his face as he looked at the cleaning supplies in his hands. “How 1950s housewife of him.” He let them drop to the floor. “This is your fault,” Chuck announced. “So I’m just going to sit back and watch you clean up.” He swept aside an old pile of fencing clothing and sat down.

“My fault?” Nate said incredulously, from where he was leaning against the back wall, the afternoon sun glaring in his eyes. “Come again?”

Chuck smirked. “Nathaniel, we’re on school property, coming would be quite…” he paused, looking for the word. “Improper. To say the least.” He cocked his head, and met Nate’s gaze, a wide grin on his face as if it were old times and he expected Nate to either respond or roll his eyes.

Nate took a deep breath, letting his nails dig into his palms and forced himself to wait. He watched the familiar look on Chuck’s face slowly fade when he realized that he wasn’t getting a rise out of him.

The temptation to punch Chuck’s face in was also slowly fading, which was good— random violence also wasn’t his style, (the incident with his father notwithstanding). But the well of hurt and pride stung from Chuck and Blair's betrayal also wasn’t going away and he had to get past it somehow. He just hadn’t found the right way yet.

“Anyway, I was going to say, I wasn’t the one who escalated it to violence, by grabbing my shirt,” Chuck said, watching Nate carefully. “Threatening to- you know-” He stopped, choosing his words carefully. “It was quite homoerotic.”

“Shut up,” Nate said, grinding his teeth. He turned away, and started grabbing whatever he could find, throwing it in the open garbage bag. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Behind him he could hear Chuck approach. “I already said I was sorry,” Chuck said, his voice softer, no longer mocking. “How long are we going to do this? Is it really worth it?”

Nate turned back around, and walked back, slinging an arm around Chuck’s shoulder, the buddy-buddy gesture in sharp contrast with his words. “I don’t know, Chuck,” he said. “Was it? Was Blair worth it? I’m not the one to answer that question.” He pushed him away hard, watching him stumble over a lacrosse stick and then catch himself on the wall.

They stared at each other. Chuck watched him, his eyelashes looking impossibly long as he ducked his head. “So, what do you want?” he asked, ignoring Nate’s question. His voice was unusually tentative, with none of the typical Bass arrogance. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it. I want this to be over between us.” He lifted his eyes to meet Nate’s and any vulnerability betrayed in his previous words were masked by a flat look.

“You can’t just buy back a friendship,” Nate said, disgusted. He stepped closer, wary.

Chuck sighed, a petulant look crossing his face. “That wasn-”

He was cut off by Nate’s hand covering his mouth. Muttered words continued to erupt from him, but otherwise he stayed perfectly still as Nate took a second to consider what he was about to do. Going quickly so he wouldn’t lose his nerve, he started unbuckling Chuck’s belt and pulled his tucked school shirt out of his pants, undoing buttons with one hand. He fumbled a bit during this part- normally he had been on the receiving end in the past. He removed his other hand, letting Chuck speak again.

“Sexual harassment, that’s your idea of- ahh… okay.” Chuck sucked in a hiss, as Nate wrapped his hand over Chuck’s dick. Encountering a sticky wetness in his explorations, he used the pre-come as lube and began stroking.

“You’re already half-hard, so don’t tell me this wasn’t getting you off, pervert,” Nate told him, concentrating on his work. Being this close, he could feel muscles bunching and twitching underneath his hand.

“Pervert? I’m not the… one… who thinks… an apology includes a hand-job,” Chuck said. He took in a deep breath, attempting to steady his breathing.

“You did say anything,” Nate responded, noting the reddening cheeks and higher voice with a kind of grim satisfaction.

“Yeah, I did. Jesus.” A strangled laugh came out of Chuck, who closed his eyes. Nate slid his free hand underneath Chuck’s chin, forcing him to look up at him.

Chuck blinked his eyes open, holding Nate’s gaze without shame until he shuddered, and came, the sticky mess warm in Nate’s palm. Nate withdrew his hand, and wiped it on the outside of Chuck’s pants, releasing him.

Chuck slumped against the wall, and slid down, as if his legs couldn’t hold his weight anymore. He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.

Nate waited a couple seconds. “Suck me off,” he said. “And you can swallow.”

He waited for Chuck to protest, waited for him to say ‘fuck you’ and walk out, waited for him to call his bluff. But Chuck wasn’t going to back down, he simply narrowed his eyes, and acquiesced, getting to his knees in front of Nate.

Like most other activities involving sex, Chuck was good at blowjobs. With closed eyes, it felt like every nerve ending in his body was concentrated in his dick, and when Chuck’s lips closed around it and he ran his tongue across the surface, slicking it with Nate couldn’t help but let out a muffled groan. He bit his lip hard and he forced himself to look down when he felt himself coming. Just like he had asked, Chuck swallowed.

Unclenching his fists afterwards, he quickly zipped his pants and turned his back on the sight of Chuck Bass on his knees. He felt empty and drained, and still not ready to go back to the way it had been before.

Behind him, he knew Chuck was waiting. “Apology accepted?” Chuck called.

Nate turned back to look at him. “No,” he said simply.

Chuck let out a hiss of irritation. “Fuck you,” he said, savagely buttoning back up his shirt.

And there it was. The phrase Nate had expected a lot earlier.

Nate waited a moment longer, shrugged calmly, and then turned and walked away. His turn now, in the role that Chuck had relinquished. Let him try and take it back.

***