Work Text:
On their third date, Darcy took Lizzie to his townhouse in San Francisco – if by “townhouse” you meant mini mansion. It had belonged to his parents, and he and Gigi had inherited it. Tonight, they had it all to themselves.
Lizzie was vaguely nervous, but not any more so than she had been since they had gotten together. She had spent the entire time since he had shown up at the door on her birthday wondering if this was all some wonderful dream that was going to eventually go away. As far as she knew, they were a month in, with no chance of waking. She hoped she never would.
Darcy offered her a drink, which she declined, feeling as though she may have slightly overdone it on the wine at dinner. She was more relaxed than anything, but she didn't want to go over that edge.
He gave her the grand tour, and, as expected, everything was stylish and immaculate. She felt slightly overwhelmed, given the cozy home in which she had grown up, but having Darcy there made it a little less intimidating. Those were not thoughts she would have had a year previously.
In the living room, she gently glided her hand over piano keys, perfectly tuned, and wished she had taken the time to learn to play when she was younger. Darcy was across the room, rifling through records in front of what looked like a vintage record player. She walked up beside him, comfortably rested a hand on his lower back, and smiled up at him.
“Were you planning on seducing me with vinyl, Mr. Darcy?” she asked teasingly. She could barely contain her laughter at the faint blush she could see forming underneath his skin in the soft lamp light of the room. He was just too easy to flummox sometimes.
Darcy cleared his throat, and she saw his eyebrows raise as he seemed to come across what he wanted. She took a half a step back as he gently removed the album from its pristine cover, and placed it on the turntable. He took the needle and placed it just above the grooves, and then he looked at her.
“Actually, Miss Bennet, I was hoping that you would dance with me.”
“Why, I would love to,” she said giddily, and watched as he carefully put the needle down.
He took her hand and led her into the middle of the spacious living room, drawing her close, his hand splayed across the small of her back.
“Is this going to be awkward?” she asked, seemingly unable to stop teasing him.
“I hope not,” he said. “I know I can do better this time,” he assured her, and for the first time since he had picked her up two hours before, she swore he relaxed.
The music drifted around them, and she was surprised by the choice. She had heard it in her parents' home before, but she couldn't place the artist. “Interesting choice of tunes,” she said, carefully watching his face to gauge his mood.
A faint smile touched his lips. “This was my mother's favorite song,” he said. At Lizzie's surprised chuckle, he laughed, too. “I know, not the typical choice of a rich socialite, right? She was a romantic. She said she fell in love with my father the first time they danced to this song.”
Lizzie thought she was going to tear up, so she rested her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat underneath her ear, and it seemed like a complement to the music. She was already in love with him, but that wasn't the point, she realized. He wanted to share a part of himself, a part of the parents she would never get to meet. Something that meant this much to him.
Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you...
Air and breathing were things that were becoming issues for her as they swayed to the music, but when she felt safe enough, she looked up at him again with what she was afraid was becoming a normal occurrence of wonder in her eyes. Going soft there, Bennet, she thought to herself, but she didn't say a word to Darcy. She didn't have to.
He leaned down to kiss her, and she stood on her tiptoes, even in her high heels, to reach him. She could feel the melody swirl around her, along with her emotions, crashing over and over again like the tide against the Bay shore. He pulled her closer, if that was possible, and she wound her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair.
When they were forced to come up for air, she stared at him, stunned that she could possibly feel so much for someone she had vowed to hate eternally such a short time ago. Who had she been then, not to see?
The clicking of the needle on the turntable brought her out of her reverie, and she didn't know how long ago the music had faded. He was grinning at her like a fool, and she kissed him again briefly before settling back into her shoes.
“Is there any chance you could play that again?” she asked with an equally foolish grin.
“Anything for you, Lizzie Bennet,” he said, kissing her hand before moving across the room.
She believed him.
Finis