Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lizzie Bennet gave the best hugs.

William once noticed this many months ago when he observed her wrap her arms around Jane during their stay at Netherfield. He observed it time and again while he reviewed specific videos after her internship at Collins and Collins, wondering what it would be like to have her pull him close, wrap her arms around him and whisper platitudes in his ear. Everyone always seemed to pull away feeling somewhat comforted, if not for anything more than having her implicit support.

And now? Now he knew. Now, it was the only thing he could think about. Lizzie Bennet, pulling him towards her and squeezing the breath out of him.

Yes, he quite enjoyed everything about Lizzie as long as she was touching him, but her hugs were quite possibly his favorite thing (partially because she could give those in public without making him, or anyone else for that matter, uncomfortable).

Fortunately, in fifty-two minutes, she'd be doing that very thing for the first time in nearly a month.

Due to the amount of luggage, Lizzie chose to travel by train — that and she wasn't particularly fond of flying if she could help it. She texted that morning with a picture of the final draft of her thesis only moments before submission to Dr. Gardiner. Shortly after, she bid her family goodbye and boarded the train with her 'eleventy billion bags'. Upon reading that text, William laughed at her wording but felt his heart race with excitement.

Throughout the train ride, she amused herself by regaling him with an epic tale of her fellow travelers via text. At one point during a board meeting he was caught smiling at a quirky message, much to the presenter's dismay. Clearing his throat, William returned his focus to the meeting, but even then he longed to be sitting beside her, listening to her whisper the tragic story of The Widow in Seat 3B.

Finally the time arrived for him to call it a day. He left Lizzie a voicemail, knowing that she abhorred talking on the phone in public places, and then slid into his SUV for the ride home. He showered quickly, changed into more casual attire, and set about getting dinner ready. Nothing too fancy, just wine and pasta, per her request. Lizzie was to stay with him through the weekend, then migrate to her new apartment on Monday.

Just as he set the sauce to simmer, his phone chimed with an alert from Lizzie: 20min out. Longest 20min EVER.

William nodded in agreement, then rolled his eyes at himself, since his phone couldn't agree with him. He set the table and walked around, making sure everything looked acceptable. Of course it was, because he liked things to be in their proper place. Well, everything except Lizzie.

He climbed inside his SUV and drove the short distance to the rather ordinary train station. It was small, but served its purpose, which was to bring him Lizzie Bennet. 

In order to distract from the interminable wait, he perused the magazine stand, seeing but not registering. He'd been like this all day, zoned out and full of anticipation, like a child the night before Christmas.  Honestly, he couldn't bring himself to care. The only thing he's been able to concentrate on was the fact that in seven minutes and twenty-two seconds, his girl would be in San Francisco.

An announcement alerted him that the train would be pulling in a couple minutes late. Every minute seemed like an eternity, especially when he had to wait an entire day to see her. Finally the train approached on the track, coming to a screeching halt, taking all his willpower not to hop aboard and pull her off bodily.

Passengers started debarking the train, wheeled luggage thrumming loudly on the grooves in the pavement. His height provided him the advantage of seeing her once she set foot on the steps. She scanned the crowd, a luminous smile gracing her features once she spotted him. He offered a useless wave and discovered that his feet already started moving toward her.

Moving past a large group of tired travelers, he came to an abrupt stop when he was no more ten feet from her. She was here. In front of him. Looking tired and beautiful and so very lovely. They took each other in, drinking in smiles and blushes and then she tossed her head back and laughed.

Defying gravity and physics, she somehow leaped the entire distance and landed in his arms, wrapping her own tightly around his shoulders. He held her tightly, her toes grazing his shin as he squeezed her even tighter, pressing his nose in the warmth of her neck. He had no idea how long they stood there, her hair curtained about them and her wicked lips promising adventures in a sea of sheets.

"Excuse me?!" a man tapped William on the shoulder, causing him to pull away from Lizzie. "I'm sorry, Miss, but where do you want these?" The employee pointed to the luggage cart packed high with matching luggage that could no doubt be a graduation present.

"William? Could you put me down?" Lizzie smiled at him, pressing her hands on his shoulders as he regretfully lowered her to the ground. She smiled at the employee apologetically and together they lead him to William's SUV.

Somehow they got home in one piece, their car ride full of conversation and kisses at stoplights. Once William parked, Lizzie pulled out an overnight bag, opting to leave the brunt of the luggage in his vehicle. Lizzie let him carry her bag up the drive as he led her to the front porch of a contemporary townhouse. William then unlocked the front door, glancing back at her as she told him about her tearful farewell brunch with Dr. Gardiner.

Once he shut the door however, it was like a switch had been flicked and they both realized that finally, they were alone. No family members, no phone calls, no housekeepers, nothing. Nothing would interrupt them.

She tucked her hair behind her ear shyly and he cleared his throat. Then, she dropped her purse and he dropped her bag, preparing to catch her this time as she executed another gravity-defying leap into his arms. A flurry of activity followed. Clothes were shed, walls were bumped into, and something really expensive broke.

They didn't make it past the foyer.

The next time, she was wearing his shirt and he his boxer briefs, serving her pasta between wine-filled kisses and licking tomato sauce off her fingers. In a long mental catalogue, he added that his counters were the perfect height and that Lizzie was incredibly giggly when she drank red wine. Her face was flushed and her eyes were glassy as she pulled him close for another kiss, her legs locking around his waist.

They made a small mess, nothing a good scrub couldn't fix. Whenever that would be.

After he gained the strength to walk and she got her breathing under control, he led her around the apartment, offering monosyllabic descriptions of each room.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to stay in my room or one of the guest rooms, so I prepared this one, just in case," William said as he flicked on the lights to a well-decorated room with a large bed.

"Yours is fine." Lizzie squeezed his hand as he turned off the lights and led her to his bedroom. Her eyes lit up gleefully upon seeing his large, dual-headed shower.

"We're definitely going to enjoy that later." Her impish smile made William swallow hard, knowing that she meant it. She excused herself to use the restroom while he returned to the kitchen, putting away what he could before she rejoined him. Lizzie offered to help him wash the dishes, and together they cleaned up everything as she asked him about his day.

The sheer domesticity of the scene made his heart squeeze in a pleasant fashion, but he didn't dare let on. He was fully prepared to wait out Lizzie Bennet, however long it took for her to come around to the idea of a forever with him.

Right now, she was fixed on this night, and if the look in her eyes was anything to go by, it was going to be good.

Tossing the hand towel on the counter, Lizzie grabbed William’s hand and pulled him to his bedroom. He took a seat on his bed and stilled her fingers as she started unbuttoning his shirt that she wore. Her eyebrows drew together as he turned her hands over, kissed each palm slowly, and then looked up at her as he clasped her hands in his.

She sighed, a small smile on her face that he couldn't read. He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her between his legs with his head buried in the valley between her breasts. When she wrapped her arms around him again, he exhaled slowly, soaking in her warmth and scent and sheer comfort. She placed a kiss on the crown of his head, her fingers tracing in decipherable letters on his back.

This. This moment of quiet and together and devotion. This was what he wanted. What he'd been craving. Something that only Lizzie Bennet could provide him.

“I missed you,” she placed another kiss along his brow, “so very much.” Her words, a soft echo to his gesture, set his skin afire.

Eventually his hands started roaming and the shirt fell away. They spent the rest of the night and early morning following through with some of her wicked whispers from earlier, exceeding both their expectations.

Later William drifted to sleep completely exhausted, relishing the feel of her curled up in his arms. Yes, Lizzie Bennet gave the best hugs, but he wasn't half bad either.

Chapter Text

William Darcy is not impressed.

Having been cowed into attending the Gibson wedding and reception, he’s already in a foul mood. William was perfectly fine working on the quarterly finance report in the confines of Bing’s pitiful library.

He climbs out of Bing's car and looks around, smirking at a comment Caroline just made under her breath. The country club is a large brick building with a large terrace skirting its edges. He imagines it’s supposed to be one of the finer buildings in the county, however, glancing at a rotting wood railing, he finds it to be in a sorry state of repair.

"Oh God. I hope the roof doesn't collapse on us," Caroline quips, falling into step beside William. They’ve bonded as of late over their combined misfortune at Bing having chosen this community for his new home.

"That or a fire. I doubt this facility is up to code," William glances at Bing who rolls his eyes at the pair.

 "Guys, give it a rest, please? I asked you to come so you both would get out of the house and meet people, not critique on the foundation of the country club."

 "Sorry, Bing," Caroline replies, feeling somewhat chastened. "We'll try to tone it down."

 "Speak for yourself," William mutters as a large group of overly perfumed females enter the club at the same time. "Did we ever finalize our emergency evacuation plan?"

 "Darcy, Really?" Bing tries for stern, but fails, offering fleeting smile instead.

 "Just trying to be safe," William holds open the door for Caroline and Bing to enter. "Can't be too careful around here. I think I saw a boy running around with a lighter just now."

 Before Bing can even respond, he is swept up by some new acquaintances, introducing them to his sister and William. Glancing around, William finds that their entrance has brought quite a bit of attention, much to his dismay. He starts scoping out the large room for an alcove to dip into, one that would afford him the luxury of minimal interaction. Meeting a group of people whom he'll rarely see again is not worth the trouble of trying to drum up small talk.

He nods and shakes a hand or two, but mostly stands behind Bing, giving the pretense the he's actually interested in being there. Eventually he meanders to a lonely wall and surveys the crowd. Boisterous and colorful are the two kindest words he can drum up. When Caroline pushes a glass of mediocre wine into his hand, he can't help the sigh that comes as he downs half the glass in one go.

"There's a terrace over there," Caroline points with a perfectly manicured finger. "Let's go outside for some fresh air."

 As they weave through the crowd, a young woman with bright red hair bumps into his arm, bouncing off at his sheer size. "Woah, dude, I didn't know the Gibson's were importing moving walls to this thing."

Unsure of how to reply, William's brow furrows in dismay.

Another girl with light brown hair rolls her eyes and grabs the redhead's hand. "Come on Lydia. The bartender said he'd score us at least a bottle each of champagne..."

 By then the two were long gone in the crowd, but even then William can’t help his irritated sigh. "I feel like we've been here for hours already. When is it polite to leave again?"

An unladylike snort from Caroline draws his attention as they pass another petite redhead with dark hair walking arm-and-arm with an Asian woman. "When has politeness ever stopped you?"

Affronted, William rolls his eyes. "I'd like to think I maintain the proper amount of decorum when in public."

Caroline gives him a dubious look, and instead of replying, she finishes the rest of her champagne. Setting it on a nearby table, she walks to the railing that provides what William feels is the club's attempt at picturesque. Unfortunately, there is a nearby interstate and even closer power plant marring the view. He walks the length of the terrace, feeling Caroline's gaze upon him as he does. He can't decide if it irritates him or is just another white noise nuisance, much like the humming of voices emanating from the gathering within.

"Darcy, I'm going to get another drink. Want one?"

"Sure," Darcy replies, hardly glancing her way. He looks inside, watching as Bing continues to dance with a girl he met just after entering the party. She's slender and beautiful and has a kind smile — just Bing's type. She too is a redhead. He wonders if this is a depot for redheads or if they're all related.

He finds out shortly thereafter when Bing escorts the young woman outside for some fresh air.

"Ah Darcy! Just the man I was looking for. Jane, this is Darcy, my best friend. Jane is a long-standing friend of the Gibson family!"

"Hi,’ she smiles warmly, ”it's so nice to meet you."

William, unsure of what to say, just nods.

"How long are you staying with Bing?" Jane smiles, lighting up her face.

"I am uncertain." William shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing at Bing.

"Darcy's just kidding. He'll be staying with me and Caroline for most the summer. Unless he has to return to work."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Jane smiles again. She does that quite a bit. William's always felt that the frequency with which someone smiles is inversely proportional to their intelligence. Right now, the jury's still out on this one.

"Hey Jane —" one of the redheads sticks her head around the French door. This one has the darker hair. She glances at Bing with an arched eyebrow. "… Sorry. Uh… Mom's on the prowl. Just wanted to give you a heads up."

"It’s not what you think, I forgot…" William zones out, completely unconcerned with this conversation. Knowing he can contribute no further, he backs away, unaware that Jane was attempting to introduce her sister to him.

He strongly considers drowning his misery in some scotch, but upon sighting what's available at the bar, he inwardly cringes at the swill disguised as a prime offering. Instead he backs up against the wall again, watching as Bing meets Jane’s mother, who is very animated and loud.

"Mayday, mayday. We have a problem," Caroline draws up next to William, providing him with a sad plate of food and glass of red. "Bing already found himself a girl to fawn over. I seriously don't get how he does it every where we go.”

"Your brother's inability to remain single is the least of my concerns right now," William is surveying the glass, frowning at what he believes to be an eyelash floating in his drink.

"It should be, because he just introduced me to 'the loveliest woman' he's ever met."

"Right. That Jane girl?"

"Yes. And her sisters, Lizzie and Lydia. They're all gingers. Isn't there some sort of law forbidding that?"

"Sadly, no," William mutters as he sets his glass down, impatient. "There's also no rule pertaining to the attire that is permitted at this wedding." He glances at a nearby table where a woman is wearing half the requisite clothing for such an event.

"I strongly doubt they have access to Saks or Barney's, Darcy."

Space is tight against the back wall, when the Asian woman from earlier passes as he replies, "Like this town would be able to tell the difference between Barney's and JC Penny."

Caroline laughs again, grabbing onto his arm as she does so. He hates it when she does that. One more glass and she's going to start getting handsy, which never ends well. "I think I'm going to leave soon."

"Why?" He and Caroline push off from the wall and cross the corner of the dance floor, unaware of the activity taking place on the dance floor. "Afraid you're going to catch something?"

William doesn't reply. Instead, he is hit directly in the chest by elasticized lace. He reflexively catches it, looking down at what appears to be the garter. Caroline's laughter causes William to frown even deeper. He closes his eyes briefly and sighs, shaking his head as he opens his eyes and looks out on the dance floor.

"Oh! Look at that," Caroline forces out between breathless chuckles, "one of the gingers. I think that one is Lizzie. Go on now, show the town how to dance properly."

With a sharp push, William walks out on the dance floor, face devoid of any of his internal agitation. He hears Bing clapping somewhere to his side, but all he can focus on is the poor state of the dance floor. The fact that his presumed partner appears to be equally as displeased with this prospect as he doesn't escape his notice, staring at the ostentatious bouquet of flowers in her grasp like they personally offended her.

The DJ grabs both their hands and places them in each other, something that immediately irritates him. He prefers not to be touched. If anything, he prefers to stand as far away from human interaction at all times.

"Sorry," the redhead… Lizzie, he recalls. "I didn't catch your name earlier."

"Darcy." William waits for the music to start, not really concerned with trying to force small talk.

"Right… Nice to meet you. I'm Lizzie."

William nods once, places one hand in the middle of her back and holds the other up for her to clasp. She does so, clearing her throat softly. The music is some pop number with an unsteady beat, completely inappropriate for this type of dance. Upon learning this, he forgoes all attempts at actual dancing.

She nearly steps on his toe once, and he fights the instinct to roll his eyes. Instead, he simplifies it and slows down to a sway of sorts, hoping she won't step on his five hundred dollar Italian leather loafers with her thrift store heels.

"So… do you like it here in town?"

He tries not to sigh. This. This right here is what he's been trying to avoid all night: conversation that is meaningless and lacking in all sort of intelligence. Granted, with this crowd, he's not sure how much an intelligent conversation is possible.

"Not especially." There. That should keep her quiet. He glances down at her briefly, for she is rather short. She is looking pointedly off to the side at someone standing against the wall. His first thought is that she's too short, her smile is too wide, and that her dress does not suit her figure. Feeling his scrutiny, she looks up at him briefly. Taking another breath, she starts again. He'd much rather she just give up.

"Oh… do…. you like dancing?"

He glances down at her, completely unimpressed by her second conversation starter. Weak, at best. Yes, best to shut this down.

"Not if I can help it." Instead of watching to see her response, he looks over her head at the clock on the wall, recognizing the second chorus of the song. One more minute of this and he's home free.

"Wow," she replies, "okay then."

He's pretty sure that is a non-sentence and focuses more on her improper grammar and less on her very displeased tone. In his mind he starts compiling a list of things he'd rather be doing, such as waxing his back with lava or cutting the grass with scissors, than be here. Schooling his features into a motionless mask, he ponders how far he’d have to go to get a decent cup of coffee.

Finally the song ends and she drops his hand quickly, taking a large step backward. Out of sheer habit and little else, he thanks her for the dance and walks as far away from the dance floor as possible.

Caroline sweeps in, handing him a moist towelette and a drink. He takes both gladly, wiping his hands then downing the finger-width of watered down scotch. Caroline starts a satirical critique of their dance and many of the patrons here tonight, inadvertently drawing his attention across the way to where his dance partner is standing with the Asian woman he saw earlier.

Lizzie's head is tipped backward in laughter as her friend leans forward, laughing as well. Lizzie makes a face and glances in his direction, shaking her head and gesturing widely. He realizes, as she looks his way one last time, that she must be talking about him and their dance. No matter, it's not like he'll have to deal with her any time soon.

He spots Bing heading outside with another guest and decides that now is the time to make his escape. Cleanly side-stepping a middle-aged Asian woman and probably her younger daughter, he reaches the terrace. Unbeknownst to William, his dance partner and her friend are already outside, leaning against the railing out of his eyesight.

"Bing, can I have your keys?"

"Sure, did you leave something in the car?”

"I think I'll call it a day and head back. You can call me to pick up you and your sister."

"Seriously? Darcy it's not that bad. Just go out there, man. Cut loose, dance a little. Lizzie seems to be pretty fun."

William sighs, his impatience getting the better of him. "You're dancing with the only tolerable girl in the room, so stop wasting your time with me."

Bing frowns slightly, causing William to amend his statement, " Sure… Lizzie is decent enough, but why would I continue to dance with her when no one else does?"

"Wow. That's harsh, Darcy. Perhaps you haven't noticed, but there aren't a lot of guys here. Besides, I heard her talking to Jane about how antiquated this whole thing is. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to be here either."

William shrugs, not caring one bit what she thinks. Instead he starts walking towards the parking lot, urging Bing along.

"Couldn't you at least try a little here? I know crowds and parties aren't your thing, but I like it here. I already had to explain to Mrs. Gibson why you had yourself plastered to the wall earlier."

William narrows his eyes. "What'd you say?"

"That you're painfully shy?" Bing's voice trails off as he looks away. Sure sign he's evading the truth.

William stops, watching as his friend takes a few steps farther. "Bing…"

"I may have also said you're socially awkward. Sorry."

William sighs and pulls his hands out of his pockets. "That was… unnecessary. I don't need you to make excuses on my behalf. I don't want to be here at this… place, with these people." William starts walking again, his temper getting the better of him.

"You knew this when you talked me into coming. I said I'd be poor company, you didn't care. I came anyway. And now, I want to leave. So please, give me your keys. Call me when you've finished with whichever girl catches your eye."

Bing clenches his jaw as he pulls his keys out of his pocket. "Jane. Her name is Jane."

"You'll forgive me if I don't learn this one's name," William replies curtly. "If she sticks around for anther week, then maybe I'll bother."

At the look on Bing's face, William knows he has gone too far. He swallows hard, feeling ashamed. "Look, Bing that was rude of me to say…"

Bing shakes his head and offers a weak smile. "No worries, man."

As he says this, Jane takes a step outside on the front terrace facing the parking lot. "Bing? You told me to get you when they announced the last dance."

"Right, thanks! I'll be right there," Bing gives her his 10,000 megawatt smile to which she matches equally. It's almost blinding to see. Turning back to William, he shrugs. "You never know, maybe she's the one. Maybe… she'll be the last name you'll ever have to learn."

Bing grins at William once again and turns away, heading back to the lovely redhead. William watches as they make their way inside, briefly envying his ease and charm. Regardless, he's been around Bing far too long to know that this poor girl, just like all the others, will be a passing fancy.

"Whatever you say, Bing," William mutters as he turns back to the car. " Whatever you say."

As he slides into the drivers seat and turns the key in the ignition, a song blasts out of the speakers, causing him to suck in a breath. Putting the car in drive, he eases onto the road as the song plays on.

It takes a man to live

It takes a woman to make him compromise

Chapter Text

They hit a rough patch after they've been dating for over 14 months, but this isn't that time. We'll talk about that later, perhaps.

It's late. Far later than Lizzie usually gets home, especially now that she's past the 'live or die' first year of her company. Yes, she still keeps odd and unfortunate hours, but when she can, Lizzie tries to get home between six and seven so she and William can make dinner together.

In the infancy of their relationship, they discovered that they were both severely lacking in the cooking department. To make up for this, they spent the previous summer taking cooking lessons on the weekends. For both their sakes, it's been a lifesaver.

Upon reaching the front door to their apartment, she hears the faint sound of music from within and is intrigued. It almost sounds like a party. Which... is completely ludicrous. William tends to listen to Jazz when he's cooking, whereas she blasts classic rock and spends more time honing her air-guitar skills than stirring whatever pot is simmering.

This music, is most certainly not Jazz. It’s a righteous classic of funk. Lips quirked and interest piqued, she shuts the door behind her quietly and toes off her heels (a sad requirement for meetings with investors and such). She hangs her purse and jacket on the coat rack then pads barefoot towards their kitchen. Their apartment is large and open, but one of the walls houses a support beam, blocking the view from the kitchen to the front door. Using this to her full advantage, Lizzie stealthily slides to the kitchen entrance, unable to help the stupid grin that comes over her face. She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, head canted to the side as she takes in the scene.

William's bowtie untied, top buttons open, suspenders undone and flapping against his legs, with his feet clad only in bright red socks (she doesn’t learn until month two that he’s terribly color-blind). The music emanating from his ridiculous surround-sound speakers makes it feel like there’s a crowd of people sitting around, clinking drinks and ‘getting their groove thing on’. She detects the lovely falsetto of Marvin Gaye and has to cover her mouth. William mimics Marvin rather well, hitting all the right notes in such a way that betrays this song as a guilty favorite of his. She also suspects that only she and Gigi have ever had the honor of watching William Darcy jam around the kitchen.

He moves about the kitchen with ease, alternating between the refrigerator along the opposite wall and the industrial stove, grabbing various items and placing them on the counter. At one point he starts juggling three tomatoes, causing Lizzie's eyebrows to dart upwards in surprise. 

Grabbing a spoon, he starts in on the chorus again, singing into his pseudo-mic and stirring the pot at intervals. To prep for their salad, he spins on a dime toward the knife block and stops for a moment, seeing Lizzie leaning against the doorway. She's afraid she's drawn blood on her lips from biting them so hard to hold back her laughter. The look of shock on his face causes her to lose her resolve, unleashing a peel of laughter.

Somehow overcoming his embarrassment, William shrugs and bobs over to her in time with the music. "No more standin' along the side walls," he chimes as he  grabs her hand and tugs her into the center of the kitchen, singing: "Now I've got myself together, baby." Which elicits even more giggling. He draws her into a strange two-step-like dance, twirling her around between rounds of laughter and the steady press of her head against his chest. William ends with, "Keep on dancin', Got to give it up'."

"You are such a goofball," she smiles up at him, rolling her eyes as the song finally comes to a close, 

"Ah, yes," he pulls away, not before pressing a kiss to her palm. "But I'm your goofball."

Lizzie takes over the salad prep and glances back over her shoulder, curious about his good mood. "What's got you so happy?”

 He glances over his shoulder, giving her a coy smile and a raised eyebrow. He's perfected this look of 'I know but you're going to have to get it out of me'. It's his preferred way of teasing that quickly morphs into foreplay and a sweaty, exhaustive night spent on various surfaces in their apartment.

 "Well," she sighs, trying to guilt it out of him. "I’m happy you’ve had a fantastic day. Someone living here ought to come home delighted."

 Frowning, he turns to her, setting the spoon aside. "What's wrong?"

"Oh. Sorry. No, it's nothing terrible. My day was comprised of across-town meetings and project planning. I meet with the creative team tomorrow, so Paul and I needed to get everything ready to rock."

Paul is her intern from Bay State University. Free intern. Exploiting college students for free labor and disguising it as an ‘educational opportunity’ is the best form of capitalist trickery.

"Sounds almost exactly like my day."

Curious, she looks over her shoulder as he drains the pasta. He may be excellent at giving her the look, but he's still an awful liar. Awful.

"Huh. So you didn't have any conference calls?"

He shrugs as he dishes the noodles out on each plate. "No."

"You sure about that? No calls at all? None with a no big deal company like Woodhouse Publishing?"

William places chicken marsala on the serving plate and wipes his hands on the towel thrown over his shoulder. Finally, he turns and faces her, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter.

"Who told you?"

Lizzie smirks, her turn to act innocent. "Told me what?"

"That the deal went through?"

"HA! I knew it. Congratulations!" Lizzie hops up and down, clapping her hands. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, kissing him on the cheek.

"Wait, so you didn't know?"

"No clue. But that trick use to work on Lydia when we were kids, so hey, why not now?"

He narrows his eyes, but it doesn't last long as she starts kissing her way up his neck. Once she hits the sweet spot, he lets out an unmanly yelp and halts her wandering hands.

"Lizzie, what about dinner?"

"What about it?" She's getting impatient and wants to divest him of his clothing immediately.

"It's hot now."

“Yeah, well so am I.”

She pauses and looks him in the face, concerned that he wants to halt celebratory sexytimes for food. He holds the earnest look a beat longer, then leans in, stealing a kiss. Before she can say a thing, he picks her up and carries her into their bedroom, singing a more appropriate song.

This time, when Marvin Gaye plays from the speaker system. It’s a much different tune.

Chapter Text

It's a dreary Sunday, nothing remarkable.

 They are sitting on William's large, wide leather couch, facing each other with legs outstretched and Lizzie cocooned on the inside. She has her laptop open while William is thirty pages into a performance report of Pemberley's London office. He's wearing his glasses, has a highlighter in hand and a pen behind his ear. Her hair is thrown up haphazardly with a #2 pencil keeping it in place, and alternates between scowling at her screen and typing frenetically. William’s iPod is on shuffle, Gigi having programmed a ‘for your thinky times’ mix that she insists he listen to as soon as possible.

 At odd intervals Lizzie glances up at him, occasionally nudging his hip with her sock-covered toes (she's wearing one striped and one polka dot sock, something the bewilders and intrigues William). Sometimes, he'll stretch and readjust, sliding his left hand up the leg of her jeans where he can encircle the smooth skin of her ankle with his fingers. Otherwise, they're relatively quiet.

 It's after they've been sitting for over two hours that William starts to grow restless. He starts fidgeting and yawning, a sure sign that it’s time for a break. "I'm going to get some tea, want any?"

 "Sure," Lizzie reaches behind her and grabs her now cold and nearly empty cup. She hands it over with a warm smile and a request: "Green, please."

 He nods and retreats to the kitchen, fiddling with the music and switching stations. She knows that work will not be much longer in their future if he's going to continue with this keyed-up state. She returns to her computer, absorbed in her work. It's not until he returns twenty minutes later with her tea that she remembers that's what she was waiting on. Taking a sip, she glances up at him and frowns.

 "Why are you all wet?"

 William glances down at his clothing as though it's a shock to him. "I went outside."

 "Clearly." Lizzie acknowledges the slow drizzle of rain through the window outside, but remains confused. "...But why?"

 "One of the light bulbs is out. I wanted to take care of it."

 "In the rain? Where you could get electrocuted?"

 "Don't be silly. I shut off the power first."

 Lizzie nods, eyebrows raised. Sometimes, he gets antsy like this. Though they haven't been together that long, she's quickly learned to just let him go, and typically it'll work out of his system. "Well, if you feel enterprising enough, I have a growing honey-do list for you."

 At this, William smirks and rolls his eyes, turning to his bookcase against the far wall. There are hundreds of volumes placed in every nook and cranny, many of which he has yet to read. He puts around for a bit, never making a selection. Lizzie decides to let him do his thing and returns to her work.

 A short while later he returns to the couch with fresh clothes and a pensive expression. Curiosity piqued. Lizzie bites the bullet. "What's up?"

 He opens his mouth and shuts it again, this time clearing his throat. "Do you... have a passport?"

 Considering it comes out of left field, Lizzie's eyebrows arch in confusion as she considers his question and it's implications. "No... Why?"

 "Would you to like me to help you procure one? It's a long process, but we can get it expedited."

 Still confused, Lizzie simply shrugs dismissively. "Sure. But that doesn't answer the 'why'?"

 "I need to go to London soon and I want you to come with me." He forces it out in a quick breath, like ripping off a bandaid.

 They've never gone on a real trip together. Trips home never seem to count. They did happen to go to a conference shortly after she moved to San Francisco, but otherwise, nothing. They work too much.

 "You do realize I work, right?"

 "That is why I'm informing you now, so you can plan for it."

"Yeah but..." Lizzie sits up a little straighter. "There's plane tickets and hotels and all sorts of things that --" 

William raises a hand to halt her before she gets worked up. She huffs out a breath and crosses her arms to give him a chance to explain. They're learning. Slowly. "First, it's a work trip. My company pays for the hotel room, not me. It's a work expense. Second, if we arrange just two meetings for you in London, you can also write off your plane ticket as a work expense for your company so it doesn't come out of pocket."

 She takes in his reasonable, sound logic and ruminates for a few minutes. London. Just the sound of the word makes the world seem so much larger. "Okay… But I can't be gone from work longer than a week."

"Wouldn't dare." The resulting smile he gives her is enough to power a small factory of rainbows and unicorns. "Excellent. Here's the paperwork for you to request a passport." With a smug grin, he hands her the paperwork that was resting underneath his report, rendering her speechless. She rolls her eyes at him and smiles, thumbing through the documents contained within.

 "You're worse than my mother at scheming, you know that?"

 "I'll take that as a compliment," William hides his resulting grin behind his mug of tea. The issue settled, William visibly relaxes and is able to carry an actual conversation. After a while, they return to their routine of quiet work.

Unfortunately, Lizzie finds herself distracted by the prospect of her first international trip, but more than that, at how well this man knows her. She watches as he props his arm on the couch cushion, absently twirling a patch of hair in circles - a habit she's observed when he's deep in thought or worried. It strikes her that though they've only been officially dating for five months. It feels like longer somehow.

 It also strikes her that she has yet to say something. A certain something that's been lurking in her brain-heart complex — willfully unacknowledged for weeks. When they started their relationship, she freely admitted that she wasn't quite where he was yet, with the emotional investment. She warned him, however, that once she came around to the idea, it would be damn near impossible to turn it off.

 Slowly, ever so slowly, she’s learned to open her heart to him — to the beauty and occasional terror of being in love, to the possibility of giving her heart to another. Sometimes, she wishes she could wrap up her heart in a box and bury it somewhere, because it's been bruised before, not shattered, but it took a good beating. But then, she’s reminded of William, wondering how someone like him was able to surrender himself so completely to her without even the promise of receiving the same. Entrusting Lizzie with his heart is equal parts awe-inspiring and intimidating, making her constantly at odds with herself over how to care and cultivate this tenuous bond.

 But recently, that stone in her chest dislodged. There wasn't an exact moment, she simply woke up one day and realized her hesitation and fear weren't there anymore. After that, it was easy. He'd make her dinner or pick up her dry cleaning, smile at her over dinner - anything really - and she'd think, 'I love this man. So much. Words don't even...' and she’d mentally wax philosophic for a few moments.

 Now, as she sits with him on the couch, legs pressed against each other with mental mojo flowing, she is struck yet again with the overwhelming wave of love and affection she has for him. She’s always wanted the words to mean something, something powerful and worth acknowledging. But now she realizes that having the emotion at all, the overwhelming love for another, needs no grandiose acknowledgement other than the simple expression sharing it with the recipient. Is it enough though? She feels like saying it doesn't fully encapsulate what he means to her. Then again, love should never be condensed. It should be a fluid, freely growing and changing emotion.

Still, she's not sure why she hasn't said it yet. Perhaps the verbal assignment to the emotion she harbors will make it official, will make it real and tangible, therefore breakable. And despite all that, she knows with the utmost certainty that it's time for him to hear it. He's been waiting long enough.

As if knowing she's going to say the words, he glances up at her with a soft smile and flushed cheeks. Then that she realizes that she's been staring at him for a solid five-minutes. It's about time she returned all the awkward, intense staring.

 "Yes, Miss Bennet? Can I help you?"

She smiles, slow and wide as she shakes her head. "No, good Sir," her words are soft and a little tight as they catch in her throat. She feels the pin-prick of tears in her eyes as she leans her head against the headrest of cushion beside her. "I just love you, that's all."

 To his credit, William accepts this newfound reality with grace, nodding slowly and humming, lips pursed in thought. He's also kind enough to wait a whole two minutes before casting aside his report, easing her computer onto the floor, and pulling her over until she's straddling his lap.

 "I think you need to repeat that," he whispers, throat just as tight, "one" kiss on the cheek "more" kiss on the other cheek "time" kiss on the lips. They get carried away for a moment, kisses and tears and laughter getting in the way. Foreheads pressed lightly and chests heaving, Lizzie brings her hand up and traces his jaw, her thumb running over his absolutely fantastic bottom lip.

 "I love you, William Darcy."

 He smiles again, even brighter than before, and she feels actual pain in her chest at the overwhelming sensation taking over. Then she realizes it's because he's holding her so tightly, but she likes to think it's both. "I love you too, Lizzie Bennet."

 She leans in and kisses him again, smiling against his lips. "Good. I was a little concerned for a moment."

 William releases a puff of laughter before kissing her again, shifting until he's pressing her into the couch, kissing her softly and holding her in his arms. They spend the rest of the afternoon on that couch wrapped up tightly in each other, limbs and skin and steady pulses mixing and beating together. 

It's just a dreary Sunday, after all. Nothing remarkable.

Chapter Text

The first time Lizzie realizes she's attracted, wait, sexually attracted to Darcy is during a staff meeting.

It's the Monday after their San Francisco excursion and Lizzie is running ahead of schedule. The monthly project meeting isn't for another twenty minutes, so she decides to head to the rooftop cafe to get an herbal tea Gigi mentioned and catch up on personal email. 

A few minutes prior to the start of the meeting, she stops by her office and grabs her tablet, a temporary perk of being a Pemberley Digital intern. She finds the large conference room two floors above hers, a couple offices away from Darcy's. She hasn't seen him yet this morning but is curious to see if the goodwill generated during their adventure yesterday will remain or if it’s just a fluke.

She takes a seat on the far side of the conference room against the wall. There's a center table, long and U-shaped, at which the main players sit — coordinators and directors, etc. Being that she's a mere intern, she's just happy to have the opportunity to sit in and observe. 

This is a project development meeting, focusing on something called Domino and unnamed test subject. Lizzie doesn't quite understand much of the interface, or what it does really, but then again, that's why she's here. The creative director, a middle-aged man with a broad chest, takes a seat at the head of the table, while the project coordinator, a tall and leggy blonde takes a seat to his left. The room fills quickly, chatter and laughter echoing off the walls as the leggy blonde (seriously her legs are ten-feet long) pulls up the presentation on the state of the art media-board at the far end of the conference room. 

Gigi breezes in just before the door closes. Conveniently, there's an empty chair near Lizzie, which she eases into gracefully, shooting Lizzie a smile. The middle-aged man stands, taking the remote from Leggy Blonde.

"Alright everyone, before Darcy arrives, let's get the perfunctory matters out of the way. We're currently running analytic reports and should have numbers to team leaders by Thursday... I'm still waiting on status updates from Agamemnon and…" he stops to squint at his yellow legal-pad, "Raskolnikov. Seriously? I swear you guys come up with these team names just to listen to me butcher them."

There's soft laughter around the room as Lizzie looks to Gigi for clarification.

"We run several projects at once," Gigi whispers. "Every team names their project, partly to drive James," she nods to the middle-aged man, "crazy, and partly to discourage other companies from finding out what we're up to."

Lizzie grins at the prospect. "Ohhhh, like corporate espionage?" 

Before Gigi can respond, Darcy enters with a cup of coffee and his constant companion, the black leather portfolio. Lizzie later learns that it used to be his father's. There are still notes of his scribbled on aged paper, tucked away in the jacket pockets. 

"Please excuse me. Our associates in London do not understand that tea time is not a priority in this country." Darcy takes a seat across from Leggy Blonde, providing Lizzie with an unobstructed view of Darcy if she sits just right. Lizzie catches a look passed between Leggy Blonde and Darcy, to which he gives a nearly imperceptible shake of the head. Interesting.

James continues with opening remarks, getting status updates from all project teams, then moves through the meeting agenda. At first it's pretty interesting until he goes off on a tangent. Gauging by the nonplussed looks going around, this is common practice. It's quickly becomes monotonous, his voice the type that eases Lizzie into a hypnotic trance. She soon regrets not having gotten a caffeinated beverage before the meeting. Glancing around the warm room, she notes a lot of alert people, however they are all holding a mug of some type. Perhaps caffeine is a requirement for these meetings?

As James drones on, Lizzie tries to quash her disappointment. She's been looking forward to this meeting since last Thursday, because it seemed most applicable to her field of study. Sadly, she's learning that this meeting is more about the nuts and bolts than the actual product. Since they use a company-specific interface, much of the discussion isn't helpful for Lizzie's thesis, or career development.

Her gaze drifts to Darcy as he writes something in his perfect handwriting in his perfect leather notebook. She then berates herself for the petulant tone of her thoughts, and tries to reign herself in. She's trying to see him in a new light, which has been going rather well, especially after yesterday. The least she can do is look at him without the aim of criticism.

And look she does.

First she notices the set of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest as he maintains his ettiquette-school perfect posture. Tracing the long lines of him, she watches his hands as he messes with his pen cap absently. She's surprised that it's a regular pen, not some Mont Blanc deluxe writing utensil. She's also surprised at the way he bites the tip of it when James wanders into another tangent. Lizzie can't tell if he's trying not to say anything or if he is a pen-biter. She's a nail-biter, so she can sympathize.

He bites the cap again, which is the first problem.

Because then, she's looking at his mouth and the way his tongue darts around the edge of the cap absently. All she can do is focus on his tongue, that pen, and his mouth. His lips in particular. The bottom one.

She stares as he pulls the pen away, jots something down, but his lips still glisten. She blinks and then —

He lifts her onto the counter, immediately latching onto her neck with wet lips and hot breath, causing her to see actual spots because she's squeezing her eyes so tight. His teeth scrape along her collarbone, his tongue driving a path to the hollow in her throat, where he sucks gently before nipping at her skin. He blows cool air over the area before finding purchase along the V of her blouse.

Lizzie's eyes widen and she straightens in her chair, mortified. What the actual hell was that? She mentally chastises herself as she glances next to her, hoping that Gigi hasn't recently developed the gift of telepathy. Gigi appears to be as bored as Lizzie, her eyes a little glazed.

Exhaling, Lizzie relaxes somewhat and tries to follow James as he switches topics. Fortunately Leggy Blonde has shifted so that Lizzie can no longer see Darcy, creating a sense of relief.

Which is short lived as Darcy leans back in his chair, pen in hand. 

That's fine. Lizzie sighs quietly. No big deal. She too shifts, but cannot find a position that blocks Darcy from view.

Then he starts twirling the pen, shuffling it deftly between fingers. Skilled fingers. Long fingers. She clenches her jaw and sighs, looking away. Then he drops his pen, scooping it up quickly and resuming the damn twirling. She counts to ten, all the while watching his movements and her gaze loses focus —

Nudging her knees apart, he steps between her legs, palms hot and flat on her thighs. He softly glides his middle fingers along the outside of her thighs, making her back arch and squeeze her legs tighter around his hips. She wonders if his hands will scorch her skin, slowly creeping beneath her skirt as he presses his lips against hers. Their kisses are short and breathy, wet and slightly messy. His fingers creep higher and higher, until he makes contact and she can't help but release a soft moan in return. 

He smiles against her lips, so she bites down on his bottom lip in retaliation even as he's sliding beneath he elastic of her underwear. Super hot fantacy lace underwear. Her hands, once tightly fisted in his hair, release quickly as she reaches out for something, anything, to hold on to. One hand finds the wall beside her, but the other is forced to grip his left shoulder tightly as he slides a finger inside and twists it in such a way that she kicks out as her hips buck against his hand.

Lizzie shifts in her seat, uncrossing and crossing her legs and tucking her hair behind her ear. Which she quickly untucks because she knows for a fact she is flushed and that she need not draw attention to that. Curse of the pale-skinned. 

But now, she's concerned with the actual parade of shimmering unicorns marching through her lower belly. It's enough to make her dizzy and feel as though she might be sick soon. 

She clears her throat and fixes her gaze on the ground beneath the table, praying that no one can read her errant thoughts from her body language. Longing for something to distract her, Leggy Blonde saves Lizzie’s entire existence by taking over the meeting. Bless you, Amazonian Goddess.

But then, she stands and William Darcy in all his pen twirling, tongue swirling glory is sitting before her, completely unobstructed. Damn you, freaking Corporate Barbie.

Darcy leans forward on the table, his shirtsleeves rolled up and forearms bared. For crying out loud. Forearms? The muscles ripple as he drums his long, piano-player fingers against his legal pad. When he steeples his fingers, it's all Lizzie can do to swallow an exasperated groan, blinking hard —

His speed quickens as she looses the ability to reciprocate his kisses, freeing him to attend to the delicate curve of her jaw. His kisses squelch loudly just beneath her ear as he migrates down along the column of her neck, finding a sensitive spot that causes her grip to tighten on his shoulder as she bites down on her lip to keep from crying out. Every time he draws into his mouth the sensitive skin of her neck, he presses his thumb just a little bit more, just a little bit faster. 

There is a literal light show going on behind her tightly closed eyes and she can't remember how to breathe.

Eyes fluttering quickly, Lizzie gasps in pain as she releases her bottom lip from where it was ensnared between her teeth. Her finger traces her lip, searching for the damage as a slight metallic taste fills her mouth. Yup. She actually bit her lip. Unbelievable. She can also feel Gigi casting her nervous looks.

Gigi should be alarmed. Bewildered. Angry. Not concerned. Lizzie's complete lack of propriety makes her have dirty-fantasies about William Darcy while his sister is sitting RIGHT NEXT TO HER.

Has she no shame?

Apparently not, because when he takes a sip of his coffee, she watches the way his Adam’s apple bobs with the type of fascination reserved for men watching breasts jiggling. 

Yes, she is most certainly about to be sick or physically stoned for being a brazen hussy. That or her belly will detach, do a back handspring, and then reattach sideways and inside out. The amount of pressure building in her core is completely absurd. She uncrosses her legs again and burrows down in her seat, somehow trying to dispel the unsettling sensation building within.

Glancing up, she catches Darcy's eye and he nods his head slightly, the corner of his lip picking up just a bit. He wouldn’t be so happy if he knew the salacious thoughts I’m having. Lizzie tries to return the smile, but she’s pretty sure she produces a grimace instead.

He turns his attention back to Leggy Blonde, who paces as she talks, which provides a nice distraction.

Until Darcy starts asking questions. She tries not to frown, but even the way his mouth curves as he articulates what she imagines are very well phrased questions, sets her off.

And yet he continues to torture her, waiting until she's right on the cusp, then removes his fingers, causing her body to cry out in dissatisfaction and ache. Actual ache. When she opens her eyes, it's to find him waiting patiently, one part smug and one part arousal. She leans forward and crushes her lips against his, stealing his breath away as he grunts against her rocking hips. Her own hands slide down his chest, over the bulge in his pants and between her legs to finish the job. He catches her wrists and couples them in one hand, pinning them above her head against the wall behind her. Finally, he returns those elegant, miraculously long fingers and she lets out a feeble sigh. The pressure nearly doubles as he presses into her, hips meeting him stroke for stroke until it grows frantic and her coordination is lost. 

Blinking hard, she regains focus just as Darcy takes one more sip of his coffee and pulls it away from his mouth quickly, frowning as he does so. It's either the wrong kind or it's too hot. Removing the lid, he dips a finger in the black mixture to test it.

Oh dear God. Lizzie tries to distract herself by tracing the shell of her ear, but that makes everything so much worse.

Just as she releases, her moans muffled against his open mouth, she feels nothing but heat and spark as her jello-bones continue to dissolve. It's such an intoxicating sensation, that she feels the heavy pull of addictive desire seep into every fiber of her being. Slowly she eases back into herself, her breath steadies, and she gains her bearings. Her head, resting against the angle of neck and shoulder, feels heavy and clouded. 

She pulls away and meets his eyes, dilated and dazed. He leans in and kisses her once more, softly - unlike any other they've shared. He slowly removes his fingers, but distracts her with his tongue along her bottom lip. Needing air, they pull away slowly and she leans back, running her hands along his shoulders in a futile attempt to flatten the badly wrinkled fabric. She kisses him one more time, quick and chaste, almost a thank you. He steps away just enough to allow her the space to ease down off the counter, grabbing onto his proffered hand. Just as she lets go, she watches as he brings up his… other hand, and licks the —

Gigi clears her throat and Lizzie shifts in her seat, sitting taller. She glances over at Darcy just as he puts the very tip of his index finger in his mouth, eyes narrowed. 

Swallowing hard, Lizzie looks away to the media board, just as Leggy Blonde is wrapping up her presentation and the screen falls to black. Lizzie's brow furrows. Did she just miss the whole thing? What? How?

Then Darcy starts talking and she scowls, face red, and incredibly bothered.

Him. That's how. Damnit.

She doesn't even want to consider what just happened. Because having a sexytime fantasy about William Darcy while interning at his company, during an important meeting, sitting next to his sister, is bad enough. Throwing actual analysis and thoughts or, God forbid — feelings, into the mix is wholly unnecessary. Completely uncalled for. Nope. Not one bit.

The meeting wraps shortly thereafter, with Darcy requesting the creative team to stick around for another fifteen minutes. Lizzie tries not to frown. She's not sure if she can do another fifteen minutes. Hopefully he won't make eye contact.

Eh, too late. Just did. Now her retinas are burned. Because he can totally tell that she just imagined his fingers in her —

"Lizzie? Are you okay?" Gigi peers at Lizzie with concern. Lifting a hand to Lizzie's forehead, Gigi frowns. "Your forehead is really warm and you're flushed. You were breathing really fast earlier. I thought you were going to pass out."

Completely mortified, but quick enough to take an exit went it's offered, Lizzie shakes her head, unable to meet Gigi’s concerned look. "You're right. I don't feel that great. I think whatever I ate at lunch isn't sitting well with me. I'll uh. I'm going to return downstairs."

"Okay." Gigi gives Lizzie a warm smile. "I'll swing by after, see how you're doing. I’ll cancel Karaoke if we have to."

Lizzie nods, barely hearing Gigi. She just needs to escape that room and the man inside it.

Of course, later that evening, when Lizzie is miraculously better and able to go to karaoke, she won’t be able to hide the flush that overtakes her face as she sputters an incoherent response when Gigi asks her what happened during the meeting. Lizzie will blame the three shots of tequila and lack of sleep.

Gigi will giggle mercilessly and clap her hands.

Lizzie will deny everything.

Repeatedly.

Vehemently.

And then, perhaps William Darcy will get an instruction the following morning from his sister, his evil sister who put salt in his coffee prior to the staff meeting the previous day. She will relay that Lizzie wants him.

“I mean,” Gigi will grin impishly, “she wants to know if you can drop by her office. She needs you for an interview or something. For her… independent study!”

 Darcy, eyebrows arched, will heed the summons and take the stairs, because they are good for exercise (not at all because they’re faster than the elevator) the two floors down to her office.

He will knock on the door and take a step inside. He will see Lizzie Bennet in a green dress with polka-dots and a wide smile, and his heart will go kerthump.

“Come in,” she will say, and her lovely eyes will make his throat tighten. He will shove his hands in his pockets, because that is a safe place to put them.

“Excuse me Lizzie, um,” he will try not to cringe. Darcys do not say um. “Gigi told me you wanted me.”

“She did?” Her tone will be low and curious and he thinks her cheeks may get a little pink.

“Yes. For an interview… for your independent study?”

She will smile and look away, nodding. “Yes. Yes. Um. That is… if you have the time.”

Darcy will take a seat beside her. He will not know that inwardly she is screaming. She will ask his permission to be in her video and will try her best to look him in the eyes. When he agrees, her hands and the tight layout of the office will betray her, and she will use his shoulder, the shoulder, for balance as she squeezes between him and the small table. Her eyes will widen in absolute humiliation, he… Darcy will need a second to collect himself.

And then?

Then they will sit shoulder-to-shoulder and discuss ‘boring stuff.’

Chapter Text

William wakes to an empty bed and the indent of Lizzie's head on the pillow next to his. He glances around the well-decorated room in Brandon’s home, squinting as his eyes adjust to the light. He stretches a long, full-bodied stretch, and then allows a yawn to escape.

Fitz's husband, Brandon, is hosting a summer soirée (his parent’s fortieth wedding anniversary) at the family vineyard in Sonoma Valley. William and Lizzie arrived late the night before with Chester, William's seven-month-old puppy. Neither William nor Lizzie wanted to risk leaving him at a kennel for a couple days. They'd fallen asleep quickly the night before, both tired after working full days and the adventure of traveling even a short distance with an anxious puppy had taken its toll. The story of how Chester was acquired is a good one, though now is not the time for that.

William turns on his side in the luxurious bed, catching a warm breeze from the open French door, the gauzy curtains fluttering in the air. On the nightstand beside the bed is a tray with a pot of tea, a mug, and one of the flowers from Brandon's garden. Beneath it is a note in Lizzie’s pinched handwriting:

Chester wanted to explore. I can deny him nothing. We'll meet you downstairs once you're human again. Gigi should be arriving this afternoon. Enjoy your tea. Xoxo

William grins into the pillow, loving that woman just a little bit more. He pulls away the covers and sits up, pouring what smells like Earl Grey tea into his cup. Walking to the open French door, he steps out on the balcony to take in the impressive spread. As far as he can see there are rows upon rows of grapevines, with an orchard at the peak of a nearby hill.

Sound to his right brings his attention to the car park where the catering service and event planner are creating quite a commotion. Glancing at the clock, William finishes his tea and heads to the bathroom to shower quickly. Knowing that most the day will be spent roaming and sampling wine, he opts for casual attire. He sends a quick email then goes outside in search of Lizzie and his friends.

If their laughter is anything to go by, he assumes that mimosas are being served at breakfast.

"Oh look!" Lizzie smiles at him over a cup of tea. "Sleeping Beauty finally decided to join us."

"Very funny." William nods at Fitz in passing then leans down and kisses Lizzie quickly. "Is there anything left?"

"We wouldn't eat without you!" Lizzie reaches out and snatches his hand. "Brandon is inside making a mess. Fitz is giving me minute-by-minute updates. It's very enthralling."

Chester, irritated at not having been acknowledged, marches to William’s chair and nudges his wet nose into William’s hand. Looking down, William scratches the scruffy dog behind his ears, earning the earnest tail wag of his canine companion.

"Did you sleep well?"

Lizzie glances up with a smile, nodding. “I slept like the dead. As did you, Mr. Darcy. You barely budged when I tried to wake you this morning.”

“Sorry, it’s been such a long week.” He frowns, grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss against her fingers. “Now I am here. So let us not speak of it.”

Lizzie nods in agreement as William pours himself another cup of tea. Lizzie slides over the sugar and a section of the newspaper. William’s brow furrows in confusion. "Lizzie, I think you gave me the wrong section."

"Hmmm?" Lizzie doesn't bother looking up from her crossword puzzle. "No I didn't."

"But it's the leisure section."

She smirks at him, stretching out to scratch the top of Chester's head. "Exactly."

Rolling his eyes, William murmurs, "Point taken."

Instead of reading the newspaper, however, his eyes wander over to Lizzie, as they are wont to do. She's leaning back comfortably, wearing one of those sundresses that make her eyes seem even bluer and hair redder. Her shoulders are already pink, indicating they should head inside or he should grab her cardigan. He watches as her fingers card through her hair, picking up a section and twirling it absently as she devours the words before her. He suddenly thinks of the ring sitting in his closet at home, tucked out of sight in his closet.

Sometimes at night, when he can't sleep and Lizzie is dead to the world, he'll turn on his side facing her and practice asking her to marry him. Occasionally she'll respond with unintelligible words, but mostly he's met with silence or a soft snore.

He can't ask her yet, not until she's ready. Not until they are ready. Not... not until he can lapse into a period of pensiveness or irritation without her getting that look — one of combined fear and doubt. It's his own fault; he knows this. It's been four months since he almost ruined everything; and ever since they've been working very hard to keep it together, to remain open, to trust each other. Over time, that look in her eyes has faded, but only as a direct result of not allowing himself to return to his default state of introspection and allowing adverse feelings to fester.

Feeling his unabashed staring, Lizzie glances up with an arched brow, her cheeks flushing under his gaze. William derives pleasure in knowing he still has the ability to make her blush. He reaches out and grabs her hand, brushing his lips along her knuckles again.

Fitz comes returns to the patio carrying a tray of glasses and a pitcher. "Nice of you to finally join us, Darcy. I was beginning to wonder if Lizzie broke you last night."

Flummoxed, both Lizzie and William glance at each other, then Fitz.

"Wow. Kidding, I'm kidding. I saw both of you get in last night. Looked like night of the living dead."

"And that's so much better?" Lizzie raises her eyebrow at Fitz as he continues to dig a hole for himself.

"Right...” Fitz sets tray on the table, the rises, clapping his hands together. “So, Brandon is trying out a new waffle recipe. Do me a favor and love it no matter what."

"You know I am no good at pretending." William sighs as Fitz breezes back inside.

"Just chew and don't make your 'I'd rather be getting a root canal' face and you're set." Lizzie pats him on the hand as William ruminates on said expression.

Fitz returns moments later with a tray of fresh fruit and plates. Brandon follows with a platter stacked high with banana chocolate chip waffles. William remains indifferent until Brandon produces two multigrain waffles for William. 

"How did you know?" The corner of William's mouth pulls upward in delight.

Giving Fitz and Lizzie a knowing glance, Brandon shrugs. "Just a hunch."

Fortunately, Fitz's warning held no ground. The waffles are delicious and the four spend a leisurely morning enjoying their breakfast and discussing locations William and Lizzie should visit. In doing so, they determine that waiting until tomorrow is the best option, giving then the full day to explore and enjoy. Today, they will relax and try to keep Brandon and Fitz from killing each other, however comical it may be.

Lizzie is adamant about no technology for the remainder of the weekend. She agrees to William keeping his cell phone on his person for emergencies, otherwise — she wants all his attention. Which he provides her with, gladly. He has much in common with his puppy, because they are both hopelessly besotted with Lizzie Bennet. The only thing William has to his advantage is the discipline not to follow her everywhere and the joy of sleeping in the same bed and all that entails.

That was a rule of Lizzie's: No dog in the bed. She cheats sometimes. He lets her.

After cleaning up from breakfast, the pair assist Brandon in ensuring everything is squared away. He's mellowed out since the early morning and is now laughing and enjoying helping Lizzie torment Fitz.

Brandon's parents arrive in the early afternoon, greeting everyone warmly. Fitz and William take their luggage upstairs, leaving Brandon and Lizzie to charm his parents. Once Fitz and William return, Brandon's parents beg off, stating that they'll be taking a nap before the evening's festivities. William thinks a nap is an excellent idea and looks at Lizzie with the same intention.

"Ha, don't look at me like that, William. There is way too much to do and I know for a fact we'd get very little napping done."

William's face flushes as Fitz and Brandon laugh. At William's chagrinned look, Fitz holds up both hands innocently, "Hey, she said it this time. Not me."

“We should be done in about an hour anyway," Brandon states in a placating manner. He's very even tempered most of the time. He's also a perfectionist, which goes against his natural inclination towards laxity. "You guys should take a walk once we're done! Plenty for you to see before tonight. Besides, I think Lizzie has somewhere she wants to see later."

Lizzie's face lights up in understanding. "Right! I nearly forgot. Let's finish everything under the tent so I can get my boys outside and we can go on an adventure." William’s lip quirks in amusement at the way Lizzie refers to him and their puppy as 'her boys.’

Soon the four return under the great white tent in the back yard, helping the event crew to apply the finishing touches. Fitz wisely tasks William with ensuring the sound system is set up properly, something William enjoys immensely. While working, he'll glance over and see Lizzie laughing at something Brandon is saying, or Fitz leading Lizzie around on the dance floor. Fitz is certainly an excellent dancer, but Lizzie is much better than William ever gave her credit for. Apparently dance dance revolution is not the best measure of one's ability to dance.   

Finally the four have done all there is to do and William and Lizzie set off with Chester, meandering in and out of the grapevines. Lizzie dares William to try a grape, so he does, his resulting sour pucker earning him the musical laughter he so cherishes. They continue on with no destination in mind, just casual conversation and comfortable silence. 

Soon it is nearly twilight, Lizzie's favorite time of day. Before heading inside to get ready for the soirée, Lizzie tugs his hand, pulling him away from the house.

"C'mon," her voice is soft and mysterious. Since she has that mischievous look in her eye — the one that promises good things, William entwines their hands and continues on toward the orchard he noticed earlier. Turns out, it's not an orchard, but a garden enclosed in large granite stones full of greenery and flowers of all sorts of colors. 

There's a fern path leading toward the garden, which makes Lizzie feel the need to slip off her sandals. Chester snaps them up immediately, running ahead under low-hanging branches and a wall of ivy. Lizzie takes off after him, laughing and calling him silly names.

It's at this time that William finally understands what Lizzie means when she says ‘It’s the best time of day. The sun hits the right level where everything seems like it's in Technicolor; time seems to slow down, and somehow for a few minutes, everything is perfect."

After she shared that with him, he started looking for it — that elusive time she always refers to. Perhaps he's not as perceptive or maybe it's Lizzie being Lizzie, but he's never experienced it.
Until now.

She's right though - the indirect light from the setting sun is breaking through the wall of foliage, catching particles of dust in the air and reflecting off them in such a way that makes it all seem untouched and hazy gold. The air is sweeter: lilacs and jasmine and honeysuckle assault his senses in a fascinating way that isn't overpowering, but utterly intoxicating.

As his eyes trace the length of ivy along the stone wall, he watches as Lizzie kneels next to Chester, running her fingers through his scruffy hair as he looks up at her adoringly. Lizzie laughs at Chester breaking away to chase a rabbit, and then takes in her surroundings with much the same pleasure as William. 

He's never really thought of his heart embodying love, but when there's such a strong, pinching sensation in his chest when he watches her, he starts to think that maybe he is incorrect. Completely unaware that he’s moving, William takes another step, breaking a twig and attracting Chester and Lizzie's and attention. Chester runs toward William; but even that seems like it's in slow motion, the way his dog flies through the air, the way Lizzie tips her head back to laugh, the way it seems to echo in the absence of all other sound — all fuzzy and trance inducing. William starts to wonder if he is more inebriated from the afternoon wine than he thought.

Chester continues to hop around his legs until William reaches Lizzie, her eyes glittering with mirth. She slides her hand into his, tugging him to a bench near a Koi pond beneath an ancient Weeping Willow. Lizzie keeps his hand in her lap, falling into comfortable quiet as the twilight fades into dusk.

After a few moments Lizzie lifts his hand to her lips, palm upward, and places a soft kiss on the inside of his wrist. It's a thing she does, sometimes they're walking or watching a movie or eating dinner. She'll simply kiss the inside of his wrist and rub her thumb over the skin, as though she can seal her love and affection in the fabric of his person, the skin and bones and muscles and tendons that keep his body together.

She returns his hand to her lap and exhales softly and pillows her head against his shoulder. He braces his chin near the crown of her head and kisses her once, then again near her ear, causing her to shirk a little at the tickling sensation. 

"Hey Lizzie?" he whispers, so as not to break the delicate silence that even Chester observes. "I get it now. The Technicolor time of day?"

A smile creeps across her face as she turns, her eyes light and utterly mesmerizing. "I know."

She says it in such a way that makes him realize that for as much as he studies her, she does it right back. Lizzie pushes up and gives him a soft kiss, one that quickly gets away from them.

"William, we need to go..."

He exhales, pressing his forehead against hers. "Not yet."

"I need to get ready."

"You already look fantastic."

She raises her eyebrow and fixes him with a mock stern look. He steals another kiss and then stands, pulling her to her feet. They return at a brisk pace, a chill filling the air despite the heat from earlier. Just as they reach the base of the stairs heading towards their room, William reaches out for Lizzie’s hand, slowing her movements. She turns and looks at him, brows drawn together in confusion.

“I just wanted to thank you for the walk.”

Smiling, Lizzie gives him a wink and a quirky smile. “My pleasure.”

William bites his lip as she starts up the stairs, waiting a moment before calling her name again. She turns with her eyebrow raised.

“I also wanted to thank you for…” William looks down, feeling suddenly foolish. “For opening my eyes... to something I never knew I was missing.”

Lizzie flushes at his words, looking down at the step below her. When she brings her eyes back to his, William detects what might be tears.

“William… you do that for me, every single day.” She closes the gap between them quickly and wraps her arms around his shoulders, giving him a deep, languorous kiss. When she pulls away, she places her hands on his cheeks and kisses him once more for good measure.

“But then again, that could just be the love talking.” Lizzie smirks as she pulls away, never having mastered the art of sentimentality. "Oh also, this is your warning. I hope you came prepared, mister. Because my dress?”

“Beautiful?”

She continues up the stairs and once she reaches the top, gives him an impish grin. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

William swallows hard as Lizzie disappears down the hall. Maybe she’ll break him after all.

Chapter Text

The soirée is getting underway and the music is pumping out of William’s expertly installed sound system while the jazz quintet sets up. Glancing around, the tent is already quite full and the two ladies in his life have yet to arrive.

"I am going to see what is keeping Gigi and Lizzie." William turns to Fitz, who is in prime hosting mode. "Can you order us some wine?"

"Darcy, I've already set aside three of the best bottles for our table. Go get your ladies."

Returning inside through the kitchen, he sidesteps the mayhem deftly and walks through the grand foyer to the main staircase. Even before he reaches it, he hears the sharp staccato of high-heels on stairs. Both his sister and Lizzie are clutching each other as they descend carefully, afraid of impending doom should they take the wrong step. He comes to an abrupt halt at the sight of his girl. She’s wearing a floor-length, beaded, silvery-blue dress with a dangerous slit up the side, showing an ample amount of leg when she steps. He briefly recalls a similar situation months ago when he stood at the base of a staircase, nervous as a doubtful Lizzie stood firm. Pushing the sad memory aside, he blinks hard as his sister emits a high pitched squeak.

"Why didn't we wait to put on our shoes until we reached the bottom?" Gigi huffs out as they pass the halfway point.

"Flowers? We were distracted by flowers." Lizzie glances up and sees him standing at the base of the staircase, his eyes slightly glazed.

Both of them look absolutely gorgeous and he can't imagine entering that tent with two more beautiful women. Eyes still trained on Lizzie, he feels the back of his neck start to heat up. If his jaw falls slack, they're kind enough not to mention it.

"Earth to William!" Gigi laughs as she waves her hand.

"Pardon?"

"I asked if you were just going to stand there or are you going to be a gentleman and help us?"

At this point, Lizzie and Gigi have reached the very last step, both enjoying their elevated height while speaking with William. The two women share a conspirational smile then turn to him. William frowns, dismayed by his own rudeness.

"I apologize. I was —" Lizzie reaches out and cups his cheek, halting him.

"We're just teasing you. Ready?"

William hesitates, but his sister takes a hint and sidesteps him. "I'm going to head in and see if Brandon needs help. See you inside."

Lizzie smiles as Gigi rounds the pair and turns toward the party. Turning back to William, she starts to say, "You sure you don't —"

But then he's kissing her with everything he's got, because she can't stand there and look that beautiful without eliciting some outrageously physical reaction from him. They forget where they are and succumb to desire for a few fleeting moments until a door slams down the hall, startling them apart — dazed and breathing deep. Running her hands along his shoulders to smooth out the fabric of his suit coat, she takes in a deep breath.

"You can't do stuff like that and expect me to be able to focus all night."

"Well, you cannot wear a dress like that and expect me to be able to focus all night."

Lizzie grins impishly. "Touché."

He's still too close and not close enough and he just wants —

"William, stop. We need to join the party. You need to quit looking at me like that."

Confused, he pulls his eyes away from her lips and looks her in the eyes. "Like what?"

"Like you want to ravish me on a table in front of everyone!"

The corner of his lip quirks upwards as he leans in. "Ravish? Is that still part of our daily vernacular?"

Lizzie sighs, the moment broken. "Besides the point." She moves around him and takes the last step, putting her a few inches shorter than him again. He turns to follow, but realizes that he... needs a moment. He sighs, remaining still as she looks back at him expectantly.

"Coming?"

"You go. I'll be right there." Her brow furrows then she follows his eyes as he looks downward at his situation. The look on her face is positively evil when she approaches him slowly. She places a heeled foot between his, pressing the length of her leg against the length of him and wraps a hand around his neck so she can whisper in his ear.

Her voice is raspy and low as she breathes out a hot promise: "Later." 

William groans as she pulls away, walking with just a little bit more sway in her strut.

It's then that he notices she's wearing a backless dress. Backless. As in every single vertebrae is exposed for all the world to see. She's going to be the death of him. Once he gains control of his situation he returns to the party with one goal in mind: making Lizzie Bennet break before he does.

He makes his way to the terrace where cocktails are being served. He spots Lizzie talking with an impeccably dressed couple she met at Fitz and Brandon's wedding. William steps up behind her, close enough to smell her perfume and feel her warmth, but doesn't touch. She turns slightly, feeling his presence.

"How ya doin'? Got everything under control?" Lizzie smirks as she takes a sip of wine. He watches her for a beat too long, causing the smirk to leave her face. She straightens with concern.

"I propose a challenge," William whispers, conscious of their proximity. "No touching. For the rest of the party. First one who breaks, has to pay."

Immediately intrigued, Lizzie relaxes. "Hmmm. Wait. Pay what?"

"Acts of contrition?" William sputters. He hasn't gotten that far in his thinking and being this close without placing his hands on her is proving to be a challenge.

Reading his thoughts, she grins slowly. "Obviously you haven't thought this through. What if we have to dance?"

William shrugs. "That is acceptable. Temporary truce. Just play fair."

Raising her eyebrow, Lizzie looks at him closely. "I will if you will."

"Deal?"

"Deal."

And thus begins the most tortuous three hours of foreplay known to man.

It starts out innocently enough.

Lizzie strikes first, appearing like she’s absently playing with the stem of her wine glass as she talks to Brandon’s mother. She slides her first two fingers along the length, drags her index around the round base, then returns to tap her finger along the bottom. She does this for the duration of their conversation, halting only when she gets distracted. A glance at William shows a direct hit, his face flushing at her ministrations.

The gauntlet has been thrown.

From his perch, William downs the rest of his whiskey, ignoring the sting at the back of his throat. He searches for retaliation, exhaling with satisfaction as he spots a bottle opener on the group’s table. He examines the wine bottles Fitz mentioned, selecting one he deems appropriate, then picks up the bottle opener. Anchoring the tip of the screw firmly in the cork, he looks up and finds Lizzie’s hooded gaze on him, her bottom lip caught in her teeth.

He twists slowly, eyes never wandering from hers as he moves the object in his hands. At one point he pairs his index and middle fingers, pressing hard against the arm of the opener and hooking them around the device. Setting the bottle on the table, he pushes the arms of the opener down and the cork slides upward. Holding the opener in his hands, he unscrews the cork from the metal spiral, running his pinky through the red wine gathered at the base. He glances up, places his pinky on his tongue and sucks, licking his lips afterward.

Lizzie feels herself flush, suddenly grateful for the design of her dress — the halter neck covering what would be so obvious to the casual observer. She can’t, however, hide the blush on her cheeks and finds it necessary to look away, nodding absently to an innocuous question. This is unacceptable. William will not unhinge her. She will have retribution. Somehow.

The odd look on her face and her inability to make eye contact with William ensure his success. He allows himself this small victory until Fitz comes up and engages him in an engrossing conversation over the Star Wars franchise. It's not until a solid ten minutes later that he realizes that he's lost track of Lizzie. The light, musical sound of her laughter draws his attention to a table behind him.

Lizzie is conversing with a couple and two other gentlemen. William inwardly scowls as he catches the way one of the men is obviously flirting with her. Unfortunately, Lizzie is as dense with male attention as he is with most social situations. He briefly considers whether he should walk over when Gigi sidles up to the table, placing her hand on Lizzie's shoulder and nodding toward a nearby buffet table.

Lizzie's face lights up and William's heart constricts in his chest at the luminous smile that crosses her features. Lizzie makes some comment and then quickly makes her way to the table with Gigi. Once she's there, William moans in despair.

A chocolate fountain. Three.

Lizzie can't believe it. Chocolate. White, dark, and milk. Pouring from tier to decadent tier most fantastically with goodness and joy. Her lady genes start clamoring with delight. Like flies on honey, several guests descend upon the chocolate fountain, sampling various fruits and other items. Following Gigi, Lizzie loads up her plate with an assortment of deliciousness and semi-patiently wait for the line to dwindle.

"You'd think it was liquid gold," Gigi quips, watching as the cluster in front of them manages to fill half a wine glass with chocolate and remains in front of the joyfountain testing which combination works best.

"I swear to God, if they don't move soon I'm going to shove this cinnastick so far—" Lizzie's diatribe halts when the crowd departs. Brandon joins them at the fountain and points out which wines pair well with the chocolate.

She selects a strawberry first and it's like angels start singing. Quickly, she gets a suitable supply of chocolate, ensuring Gigi also has enough, then moves aside for the next group. At Brandon's suggestion, Gigi and Lizzie feast on pineapple, bananas, brioche, and cheese. She essentially induces a food coma and it's amazing. The chocolate is messy and she finds that licking her fingers as she goes is a better option than waiting until she's splattered like a Pollack painting.

Finally she moves to the fated cinnastick. She went a little too heavy on the white chocolate and when she lifts, it dribbles off the end. Not wanting to lose any more, she quickly places it in her mouth, taking a bite. A little chocolate gets on her lip and more on her thumb. She fears that she's made a mess of herself. Setting the cinnastick on her plate as she sucks her finger, she glances up and feels the impenetrable gaze of one William Darcy looking like he just got punched in the stomach. Oh. Oh.

She forgot about the bet.

"I'm going for seconds, want anymore?" Gigi motions to the table.

Lizzie grins wickedly. "Why not? How about a couple… strawberries."

"Sure thing." Gigi seeks her plunder as Brandon turns on Lizzie, fixing her with a rare, serious expression.

"So, no pressure or anything," Brandon whispers, "I mean, I know you and Darcy are in it for the long-haul, but have you both talked about it? The uh… the next-step?"

It's like a train crashes in her mind at Brandon's question. This night was going so well, she was getting amped up on chocolate and eye-sex. Suddenly the tent is falling and the earth is swallowing her whole.

Clearing her throat, she gives Brandon a stern look. "You know better than to ask questions like that. But if you're so bent on knowing, we're getting close. We're just… not there… yet."

Brandon nods in a way that makes it seem like he knows something she doesn't. Before she can pursue the matter further, Gigi reappears with another fully-loaded plate. The girl is like a black hole when it comes to food.

"Brandon, are these local? Can we go strawberry picking tomorrow?" Gigi hums with excitement. Lizzie dips her strawberry in the chocolate, refocusing on her priority, which is to make William break. Ensuring plentiful coverage, she licks up the side to the tip and takes it in her mouth, the sweetness countering the intense stare she is receiving.

By the time she gets to the third strawberry, William is making his way over. The look on his face is less turned-on and more angry. Confused, Lizzie quirks her eyebrow as he approaches.

"Library," he grits out, "now."

Startled by his tone, Lizzie turns, watching him march away. She glances to Gigi who also looks a little perplexed. Shrugging, Lizzie hands over her glass and follows William's path. Unfortunately, Lizzie has no idea where the library is. She wanders around the lower floor a few minutes before entering a short hallway with only three doors. Upon reaching the last door she sighs as she twists the knob, opening the door a crack and sticking her head inside.

"William?" she whispers. The room is dimly lit with tall ceilings and walls of books. She takes another step inside, calling out again. "William? What's wro —"

A hand grabs her wrist, pulls her inside, and the door shuts behind her. Before she can say anything, she's pressed against the door, William's lips upon hers, his warm, clean scent overpowering her. Kisses rough, his teeth scrape against her bottom lip, his too-hot hands clasping her jaw and neck. A soft moan escapes as he presses even more of himself against her, his fingers fisting in her curls.

She slides her fingers through his hair, digging them into the soft skin at his nape. His hands leave her face, running along her arms as he grabs her wrists and pulls them away, pressing them against the wall behind her. He moves to her neck, nipping at the underside of her jaw as she angles her head for better access. She shuts her eyes tight against the sensation, catching her lip between her teeth.

Eventually returning to her mouth, he tastes the red wine and strawberries on her tongue and it's utterly intoxicating. He pulls away for a second and looks at her. William feels as dazed as she looks, as though her kisses and not the alcohol are rendering him completely without inhibition. Leaning forward, he bites her lip and she lets out this puff of air and a soft growl.

Suddenly the tables are turned and she's pushing him against the bookcase in the corner. Her hands creep beneath his suit jacket, nails scraping against his dress shirt. It feels like his bowtie is strangling him until Lizzie distracts from his lack of oxygen by reaching for his belt buckle.

"Lizzie!" he gasps, grabbing her hands.

"What!?"

"Here?"

She frowns petulantly and presses her hot palm against him, eliciting an unbidden groan. "Do you really think you can make it? You already lost the bet."

"It's the library!"

Lizzie drops her hands and takes a step back and makes for the door. "Hey, you brought me in here."

William doesn't hesitate. He grabs her hand pulls her back to him, pressing his lips against hers, desperate and impatient. His jacket goes to the wayside as they fumble around inconvenient furniture and unhelpful bookcases. There are no couches or ladders or bookcase ledges, but there is a desk.

A desk upon which William lifts Lizzie, a paperweight pushed aside in their haste. Lizzie gets caught up in the dizzying sensation of his tongue against the hollow of her neck, his teeth hedging along with singular intent toward the vally between her breasts. His hand finds the slit along the left side of her dress, pulling the beaded fabric away for better access. He runs the back of his fingers against her inner thigh, making her back arch and hips buck in response. Reaching down, Lizzie unbuckles his belt completely, freeing his shirt from his trousers and tugging lower on his boxerbriefs.

What little underwear she was wearing is quickly destroyed as William rips the thin material, pulling her hips closer as he presses forward while her legs hook around his waist. Lizzie's hands clutch his buttocks tighter with every thrust. He nearly lifts her off the desk with his fervor, their breaths coming quick and labored. His other hand slides up her spine, beads of sweat making it slick as he traces each vertebrae, marking the trail his tongue will take later that night.

Their movements lose synchronization and become frantic. Lizzie's soft whimper of "Will…" tells him that she's close, for she has never been able to say his full name when they make love. He starts whispering admissions he'd never be courageous enough to say if they both weren't half mad with desire. Losing patience, she pulls his mouth to hers, trapping the words between them as her entire body tightens around him, drawing him along in her wake.

Several minutes later when their breathing levels out, Lizzie brushes his hair back, presses a kiss close to his ear and whispers: "How are we supposed to go back?"

William pulls away and presses a light kiss on the tip of her nose. "I have an idea..."

Gigi smiles and thanks one of Brandon's friends as he escorts her to their empty table after a round of dancing. She glances around, wondering where the rest of her party has gone. As if being summoned, Brandon and Fitz appear, laughing over something.

"What's up Gigi D?" Fitz asks as he downs a glass of water quickly.

"Not much, just enjoying this fine celebration," she smiles at him and takes a small sip of wine. They talk for a few minutes, discussing Brandon's parents and their plans for the following day. Brandon takes his leave and strolls over to the piano, winking knowingly at his parents who look suspicious.

"What's he doing?" Gigi leans over to Fitz, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Just watch. My man has many talents."

"Including the piano?" Gig is curious as Brandon taps a few keys. Soon, the music starts and Gigi laughs at Fitz who he starts humming in his seat.

"The look of love…" the jazz singer with the smoky voice intones from her seat beside Brandon, the quintet playing along as he plucks away. Brandon's parents are dance smoothly, gliding around the dance floor as only long-married couples do.

"Have you seen William and Lizzie?" Gigi turns in her seat, looking around as Fitz does the same.

"There they are," Fitz motions to the dance floor where Gigi spots them in the quickly growing crowd. She shares a look with Fitz, intrigued by the pair before them.

William leads Lizzie slowly, his hand dangerously low on the small of her back as his other clutches hers to his chest. Their bodies are much too close as they move in time with the music, oblivious to those around them. He slides his leg forward as hers eases away; they sweep their feet around the floor and change direction fluidly. He releases her hand as she spins, a smile on her face that matches his: warm and soft. When he pulls her back his hand moves even lower on her back, slipping underneath the fabric and drawing her close.

Gigi watches her brother with Lizzie, feeling intrusive. The way they look at each other with their subtle smiles and whispered words transfix her. There are people who dance with each other and there are people who dance together, her brother and Lizzie falling into the latter category. He dips Lizzie, causing her to toss her head back and laugh, the display bringing a smile on Gigi’s face. When Lizzie rises, she’s close to his face and Gigi squirms a little, fearing they may forget themselves on the dance floor. Just as William leans forward, Lizzie pulls away, an evil smirk as she shakes her head, making Fitz chuckle beside Gigi.

“Don’t worry, Gigi D, they’ll keep it PG.”

Gigi arches her eyebrows at Fitz, dubious. Just as she turns her gaze back to the dance floor she catches Lizzie giving William a kiss.

“Ha. You sure about that?” Gigi bumps him in the shoulder.

“Like you can talk; I saw you dancing with Tall Dark and Handsome earlier.”

Gigi squeaks, looking at him in alarm. “That… that was nothing. Besides, you can hardly compare a simple dance to… to whatever it is that they are doing.”

“I believe it’s called foreplay.”

“Ew. Just ew. Gross. No.”

Fitz laughs at her side as the song starts to draw to a close. It’s just Brandon and the singer now; a slow tinkle and her raspy voice, bringing the dancers around for one last spin. Gigi sighs, overcome by the music and the scene before her. William presses his lips against Lizzie’s forehead as the music ends and the dancers pull apart, clapping. And yet her brother and Lizzie remain still, wrapped up together, wrapped in each other.

How long I have waited
Waited just to love you
Now that I have found you
Don't ever go
Don't ever go
I love you so