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William and Lizzie had been dating for fifteen days (according to his calendar) and been sleeping together for fourteen (that was not in his calendar, but he knew), when William finally got the courage to confront her.
It wasn't easy, but he managed to catch her when she was nowhere near a camera. She didn't spend her every waking moment in front of one, but he seemed to always find her at the least opportune times. He trusted her when she said she would edit things out, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
"Lizzie."
Lizzie had developed a behavior, whenever she felt William was being 'too serious,' to match his tone. He knew he was... how did Gigi define it? Prissy? However, Lizzie made him sound quite haughty and imperious, and not dissimilar from Costume Theatre Darcy. "William," she answered seriously.
"There is... something I'd like to talk to you about." While her tone was mocking, his was genuinely serious. Her face fell slightly with worry, and he wished briefly that he was a bit gentler overall. (How did Gigi put it? Fluffy?)
"Oh," she said, somehow smaller. She likely thought he was going to say another one of his hideous things. "What's up?"
"There are certain claims you make about me," he said, "in your video blogs, that I feel are untrue."
"Well, Darcy, you know, I mean, I didn't really know you at the time, and I've apologized... I mean, I can't take them down, not with my project, and the company..."
"No! Oh, no, I didn't mean that. You are entitled to say what you want about certain facets of my personality, I suppose you've earned that right, even if some of your earlier claims are unfairly prejudicial and unjustified."
"Okay." Lizzie was suspicious. "What, then?"
"It's the things you say about my dancing," said William. He watched the disbelief wash her face, the confusion, saw the slightest tremor to the corner of her mouth as she tried to deduce if he was putting her on. (He was and he wasn't.) He continued, "Our initial meeting did not leave either of us with a particularly favorable impression of one another, but you repeatedly imply that my dancing is terrible, which is frankly untrue."
Lizzie chewed on her bottom lip for half a second. William suspected she was trying not to laugh. "You danced like you were leaving room for the Holy Spirit."
William knew his cheeks were coloring a little bit. He tried so hard in life to be polite, and it seemed like his every move was interpreted as him being a Robot Newsie. At least this was how Lizzie seemed to view him. "We were virtual strangers," he felt it was important to explain. "Anything more seemed... improper."
"You treated me like I was might throw up on you at any second."
"That's an exaggeration." He thought it over. "Although most wedding attendees at that point were intoxicated, so it was not that far of a reach."
Lizzie rolled her eyes so quickly and intensely he wondered if it caused her physical pain.
"I was trying to ask you to dance at Bing's party," he said. Off her blank look, he clarified, "You and Jane were speculating about my motivations in a subsequent video."
"Then why didn't you just ask?"
"You intimidated me," he admitted. "You often do."
"I... don't know what to say."
"Say you'll dance with me."
Lizzie's eyes widened in amusement. Despite being laughed at, William found himself thinking she had very fine eyes. Intelligent. Lovely.
"This is a formal invitation, lest you think I'm incapable of asking a woman to dance."
"Well, now I'm a little intimidated."
William rose to his feet and held out his hand. "Lizzie Bennet, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?"
Lizzie gave a sideways look to a camera that wasn't there, as if she couldn't believe he was real. She adopted the costume theatre voice she attributed to her mother (an imitation that was disturbingly accurate), and fluttered her hand delicately to her chest. "Why, Mr. Darcy, I do believe I would."
William pulled her to her feet then led her away from the couch and coffee table. Bruised shins would do nothing to prove his point. He laced his fingers through hers and put his other arm around her waist, holding her at a delicate distance in a waltz position. Lizzie smiled up at him. "There's no music."
"You need music to dance?" he said nonchalantly. "That doesn't speak well of your dancing abilities." He was rewarded with laughter. Bing (and Gigi) (and Fitz) had accused him in the past of being too serious. He thought seriousness befit his position. But it was worth making jokes or putting on the occasional wig if it got Lizzie to laugh. Even if it got her jaw to drop for him shattering her illusions of humorless William Darcy.
"Fair enough," she said. "Lead on."
William led her in a slow but elegant waltz, let his hand cup her hip, released her from him in a spin, then brought her back and pressed her to him, tighter and closer. Her lovely eyes glittered with amusement, and something else. "All right, you can dance," she said. "I was wrong."
William smiled. "Thank you. Gigi insisted I learn. Something about how I wasn't fit to take out in public."
Lizzie looked as though she was struggling to bite back her words, probably something snarky about how he was, in fact, not at all fit to be around other humans. He assumed it was reflexive and she no longer truly believed that. What she ended up saying, with a small smile, was, "You? Never. You are occasionally too much of a gentleman." She gave him a significant look.
William bit back a grin; he didn't want to seem lecherous, even though they were in the honeymoon phase and he believed he was allowed. Certain things Lizzie had said the night before, and this morning, indicated that she was allowed. William dropped her hand and instead pulled her in closer, knotting his arms around her waist. There was no room for the Holy Spirit now. William's pulse throbbed, loudly and strongly enough it could easily have been a beat to which they could dance, not that their form of dancing required much movement or instruction. It largely required proximity: hips to hips, hands to lower back, fingers trailing up and down the back of William's neck.
It occurred to William that this was not entirely proper. Partaking in this exercise, he'd intended to prove a point, and Lizzie had already conceded defeat in the matter. He questioned if he was now crossing a line. Propriety was more important to William than most things. He attempted to disengage, to allow for even a half-inch of space between their bodies. "Gigi also insisted I learn several forms of dance. My waltz is excellent, as you've seen, as is my foxtrot. My cha cha is passable. I was contemplating learning the Viennese waltz, but--"
"Darcy."
"Hmm?"
"I don't really care about your dancing right now."
"I see." He noticed her pupils had dilated. For all of his attempts to loosen their connection, she still remained pressed to him. William was perhaps not the best at the subtleties of casual communication, and often found himself being misrepresented when he spoke with Lizzie. Now, however, there seemed to be no miscommunication. "Then, shall we..?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of bedroom.
Lizzie grinned up at him. "Lead on."