A lot of people wondered that Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley could be such good friends.

When one was as charming as could be imagined and the other as disagreeable as he was allowed to be in polite society, which considering Mr Darcy was exceedingly rich meant that he could get away with being very disagreeable indeed.

But, it must be noted, he was not disagreeable to Mr Bingley, or well, he was a little but the latter had a way of brushing off the former's lack of amusement at seemingly anything with a cheery grin and a wave. And, it must be said, Mr Darcy did look out for Mr Bingley, he took him into his home once the younger man had left Cambridge and introduced him to the upper echelons of society and gave him good advice when it came to financial matters. It was a good thing, people said, that Mr Darcy was a close friend of Bingley's, or else the naïve man might well have been cheated out of everything he owned due to his unfailingly pleasant demeanour.

It was also, perhaps, a good thing that Bingley was a close friend of Darcy's, for those that knew the tall, dark haired man, knew him to be a serious fellow, prone to scowling and in possession of a fiery temper. But with the inclusion of Bingley into Darcy's society the man seemed very altered in his behaviour towards his younger friend. To everyone else he remained the same in his actions and words, but to Mr Bingley, you could see, once in a while, a rare smile grace that usually sullen face. A smile that was only reserved for his closest friend, a smile that remained between the two of them.

'You know Darcy, I don't think I've seen you smile once since I made your acquaintance all those months ago at your cousin's Christmas gathering.'

'Bingley, I wonder that you've been taking notice of my facial expressions.' Darcy replied, looking across his Cambridge dorm room over to the chair where a tipsy Charles was lounging, glass of wine in one hand, a book of philosophy he was idling leafing through in the other.

'Of course I have man! You have so often an expression of absolute thunder that I frequently question why there aren't sparks flying from your hair.'

Darcy huffed and turned back to his desk, he dipped his pen in the inkwell and tried to continue with his letter to Georgiana. But Charles was being too distracting in the background. He'd stood up from the chair and was now perusing through Darcy's bookshelves, taking books out, putting them back in the wrong order and moving around the paperweights on the shelves.

'Charles, haven't you got anything better to do?' he asked pointedly, getting up and removing the expensive wax sealer that had been a gift from his father from Bingley's hands and setting it down carefully.

'Not especially,' replied Bingley, grinning.

'So bothering me is your only option?'

The smile faltered on Bingley's face and something twinged within Darcy's chest, he'd said the wrong thing, he always seemed to say the wrong thing to Charles.

'Am I really bothering you?' Bingley asked worriedly.

'No, of course not Charles. I just don't know why you'd rather be here with me than somewhere else, weren't there any pretty girls out tonight?'

'There were some uncommonly pretty girls, but I never seem to be able to talk to them.'

'You talk well enough most of the time,' Darcy pointed out. After he'd met Bingley, a man a few years his junior at Cambridge, he'd never seemed to have a moment's peace, not that he minded of course. Something about Charles's cheerful easy chatter set him at ease.

'Well yes, but that's to you, or to one of the other fellows, or to girls who aren't available. There's just something about young, pretty, single girls which makes me unable to get a word out. You know I've never even kissed a girl?'

Well that was surprising, 'But…' and now Darcy was struggling for words, 'but surely you've…' and he trailed off, hoping that Bingley would get the meaning without him having to spell it out.

'I've what?'

Alas, it was never going to be that easy. Darcy moved across his room to the door and pushed it fully shut, making sure no one could overhear their conversation. He turned back to look at Bingley who was standing in the middle of the room a bewildered expression on his face.

'Surely you've….' Darcy repeated, this time with a vague gesture.

Bingley just gave him a blank look.

Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed out slowly. He then looked up and said quickly 'Surely you've bedded a woman'.

At least Bingley found this situation as embarrassing as he did, the fair haired man went bright red and stammered, 'Well…no actually I haven't.'

And it wasn't a thrill that ran through Darcy's body just then, it wasn't. It was surprise that was all.

'Oh' he managed, 'Right, I see.'

'Oh you must think I'm a fool' cried Bingley, he made to stride past Darcy and to leave the room but Darcy stuck out a hand and grabbed his friend's upper arm.

'No, sir, I don't,' he said in a level tone, looking Charles directly in the eyes. At his words he saw relief flood through Bingley and Darcy carefully guided the young man back to the chair and he went to his cabinet and, unstoppering a bottle of wine, poured them both a glass. Handing a glass to Bingley who took it gratefully, Darcy pulled up another chair to sit across from his friend, close enough that their knees might just touch.

'So,' started Bingley again, taking a sip of the wine, 'If you don't think me a fool, then what do you think of me?'

Well that wasn't a loaded question by half... Darcy struggled to keep thoughts he'd hoped he'd buried from rising to the surface. Thoughts about Charles, thoughts that instead of being disparaged upon discovering his inexperience, were actually now encouraged, stimulated and racing through his mind. Thoughts that were entirely inappropriate.

Darcy sipped his drink as well and let his eyes slide from where they had been looking at Charles's face to the floor. He took a breath 'I think….you are an innocent young man, ' he said, hoping Charles would catch the glint in his eye.

Charles did and laughed.

'Not too innocent I hope…' he said chuckling but then paused, 'Some of the thoughts I have Darcy….well you'd be ashamed to know me.' Bingley ducked his head and gulped down half of his remaining wine.

'I'm sure they're thoughts no different to any other person,' replied Darcy calmly, but inside he was furiously trying to squash his own shameful thoughts.

'Darcy…I…what's it like?' asked Bingley suddenly, emboldened perhaps by the drink. 'Being with a woman I mean.'

Darcy opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say but Bingley cut him off '-No, it is no matter, you do not have to answer, forgive me, I am sorry I asked.' He made to move out of the chair but Darcy spoke, 'No, you are my friend, and if it is in my power to give you something that you lack, even if it is a basic education, then…I cannot deny you.'

'You are a friend I don't deserve' said Bingley morosely.

'I think it might be better said the other way around' said Darcy wryly, 'You are too good by half Charles. You needn't worry about finding a girl, she'll come along soon enough.'

'But can you tell me?' asked Bingley, hesitantly, 'Just so I might imagine more accurately what it is like.'

Darcy hissed out a breath, never mind Bingley imagining things, what things was he himself imagining?

He nodded, trying to find time to calm his thoughts, 'Where-' his voice cracked a little, 'Where would you like me to start?' Lord above! He was too sober for this conversation. He downed the rest of his glass and wordlessly took Bingley's and refilled them.

'Well…wherever you please or think best,' said Bingley taking his now quite full glass from Darcy. As he did so, their fingers brushed and Darcy did not imagine the spark that the contact made, because he actually felt it, running under his skin like a current.

He gulped some more of the alcohol and thought about where to begin, 'When kissing-' he started and he forced himself to keep a steady voice, 'When kissing a woman, she will most likely be unprepared for it, men of course may have more experience, but a lady, well she will not know what to do…so you must take charge' he said quite boldly. 'Move in slowly but unwaveringly, look to her lips to make sure you meet them, then press your mouth to hers. Keep your lips soft' he said and goddammit he could help it but to look at Charles's lips, he flicked his eyes away as quickly as he could, fervently hoping Bingley had not noticed. 'Keep them soft and slightly parted so you can put light pressure on hers before moving away.'

And he must have been looking back at Charles's lips because he distinctly saw the man's tongue come out to wet them. The breath Darcy took in was shaky.

'How long should it last?'

Darcy blinked, he made himself look up to Charles's eyes, they were warm and brown. Darcy realised the Bingley had asked a question, 'Oh….as long as you see fit.'

'But how long is that? And how do I know if my lips are soft? How do I know how much pressure to put on hers?'

Darcy just looked at Bingley and was lost for words. He was pretty sure his mouth was open. He took another gulp of his drink.

'Charles I really think-'

'-No please, don't stop. It was really good advice, just I….I don't know if this is something you can explain to me.'

'In that I think we are in agreement' nodded Darcy, relieved that this conversation seemed to be over. He took another mouthful of wine and looked over to his desk.

'-No, well….I mean…perhaps you need to…show me?' asked Bingley, his voice getting quieter throughout the sentence.

Darcy froze, only his eyes moving back to look at Charles.

'I am unclear as to what you mean' he said carefully, 'Do you…do you want me to find you a girl, a woman…to…to...' he was struggling to find the words to put this delicately, 'to… gain an education with?' he winced at the phrasing.

'Oh no!' Bingley protested, lurching forward in his chair the drink in his hand spilling a little at the movement, 'No Darcy I wasn't asking that of you' and he put a hand on Darcy's thigh to steady himself. Darcy could do nothing but stare at Bingley's hand where it came into contact with his clothed leg.

'What…what were you asking of me?' he questioned in a strained voice.

'I was asking,' said Bingley and his eyes were also fixed on his hand that rested on Darcy's thigh. 'If you could…show me?' and he tightened his grip on Darcy's thigh. Darcy inhaled a shuddering breath. This was not possible; this could not be happening. Bingley's hand on his leg was burning through the cloth of the trouser and branding his skin.

'Is there-' he began in a slightly strangled voice, 'Is there any reason you can give to explain how I might be misinterpreting your words?'

'None at all' said Bingley seriously, 'And I sincerely hope you are not misinterpreting my words for anything less than they are.'

'Charles' he tried to reason.

'Darcy'

'Charles, you do not know what you are asking.'

'No I do not' replied Bingley in agreement, his eyes met Darcy's and they were so open, so honest. 'But that is precisely why I am asking you.'

Lord! It was too much. Darcy closed his eyes tightly. Charles could not, could not, be asking this of him. Something which he had, only at his very worst moments allowed himself to imagine. Only at those times where he was so low as to take himself in hand and find completion when thinking of his friend. Those shameful moments where he abused his friend's sincere belief in him, he took those moments of friendship, of closeness and used it to chase his own pleasure. He had taken advantage of his friend's good nature, in his dirtiest thoughts and wettest dreams. To be offered that in reality? This could not be happening.

'Charles-' he protested again, but it was a weak protestation, he couldn't put any force behind it. Was he that desperate? Yes. Yes he was indeed.

'Darcy' repeated his friend with a small smile. And it was only that which was needed to settle Darcy's mind. For that smile meant surety, meant confidence, it meant sincerity.

'Fitzwilliam' he said, clearing his throat, and setting his drink down on the low table beside them, 'You may as well call me by my given name.'

Bingley nodded, 'Fitzwilliam,' he tried out, then beamed as he ran his hand further up Darcy's leg. Darcy hissed out loud.

Bingley faltered and set his drink down also. 'If this is a request too far, sir, then pray tell me now and the whole matter will be forgot.'

And here he was, giving him an out. Darcy winced inwardly, what had he ever done to deserve a friend like Charles?

'No' he said, 'My good friend, there can never be anything you ask of me that will be too much. But if you-' he said, looking at Charles straight, 'If you wish the matter to be forgot then leave at once.'

'I regret not one thing'

'Lord' swore Darcy, 'Do you know what you are asking?'

'I do not know what I am asking' said Charles with a laugh now, and how can he possess that which makes him so cheerful? 'But I know who I am asking it from.'

'I do not deserve your trust or faith in me.'

'But you have it all the same.'

'Lord.'

'Kiss me Fitzwilliam,' said Charles and Darcy needed no second invitation.

It wasn't a hard distance to close, he merely had to sit forward and they were nose to nose. Darcy remembered his advice from earlier and was determined to live it out to the full. He moved in confidently but slowly, taking the lead. His eyes glanced upwards to check in with Bingley before he flicked them back down to the lips in front of him. Once more a pink tongue flitted out to wet the lips and it was all the solicitation Darcy needed. He parted his lips a little and lowered his mouth to Bingley's.

Bingley's lips were slightly chapped and they tasted faintly of the wine. His bottom lip was between Darcy's own two and keeping it light, Darcy put the smallest of pressures on it before moving slowly away.

He moved his head back steadily. The room seemed to be spinning and the only thing anchoring him was Charles's hand still on his thigh.

'Ah' said Charles softly, opening his eyes which had fluttered closed, 'So that's how you do it.'

'Do you…' Darcy found he had to clear his throat again. 'Do you require further instruction?'

'I have many questions' replied Bingley, 'Questions which I suspect can only be answered by further tuition. Perhaps, perhaps you may instruct me in the finer points of kissing?'

'I'd be happy to oblige' said Darcy, he wasn't sure whether it was the alcohol or just the company of Bingley which was making his head a little fuzzy but it was pleasant enough. He shifted in his chair so he was closer to Bingley and Bingley did the same. Their thighs were now interlocked with one another, Bingley's knee reached mid-thigh point on Darcy. His hand had remained where it was. Darcy looked at it again and pressed his own had down on Charles's.

Charles gasped as Darcy lifted his fingers and entwined them with his own. But the breath was silenced as Darcy covered his mouth with his. Because Bingley's lips were already parted it was little effort for Darcy to open them further and press his tongue forward enquiringly. Bingley made a noise of shock but before he could pull his head away, Darcy brought his free hand up to grasp the back of his neck and keep Bingley's head in place.

Darcy was confident in his kissing. He licked his way into Bingley's mouth, swirling along the inside of his bottom lip, stroking over Charles's tongue and lapping at the roof of his mouth. Charles let out a moan at this from somewhere in his throat and it encouraged Darcy further. He deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue up against Charles's, stroking it, inviting him to participate in the kiss. Charles tentatively moved and pressed at Darcy. Darcy made a noise in his own throat, one of approval.

Then, almost as suddenly as he entered, he withdrew. He licked a stripe over Charles's bottom lip and nipped at it playfully before pressing two firm, closed mouth kisses on Charles's lips and moving back.

The hand which had been steady at the back of Charles's head loosened and fingers moved to gently thread through the curls at the nape of the fair haired man's neck.

'Heaven's above' sighed Charles, 'I had not known it would be so exhilarating.'

'You are pleased?' asked Darcy gently, trying to catch Charles's eye.

'Oh Fitzwilliam!' he cried and Darcy could not contain the shiver that his name falling from Charles's lips caused. 'How could I not be pleased?'

There was a pause and Darcy found his mouth turning up into a smile.

'There! Now you must be pleased to or else you would not be smiling so!'

Darcy ducked his head, but it was in vain, the smile would not leave him.

'If I had known that a kiss was all it took to get Fitzwilliam Darcy to smile, then perhaps I would have propositioned you a long while ago.'

'Oh would you?' asked Darcy archly, 'And had you any assurances I would say yes?'

'Darcy, your company is all the assurance I need,' replied Bingley, 'For I do not know of anyone else you put up with so patiently….or so kindly.'

'That is true….you are a rare fellow Charles.'

'Kiss me again Fitzwilliam, I wish to learn more.'

'Lord, what have I awakened in you?'

'Only that which is the most natural in any person.'

'Which is?'

'The desire to touch and be touched.'

'To think that I called you innocent,' said Darcy in wonderment. How could it be than in the space of a few minutes they had crossed the threshold from friends to...something more than friends? Darcy had never even allowed himself to imagine a time when he could put his mouth to Charles's and for them to still remain friends afterward. But Charles made it easy. Like he did everything. It was not in his nature to be disagreeable, he saw the best in everything…in everyone. Lord! Darcy did not deserve this man in his life, not as a friend, and definitely not as something more than a friend.

'I do not wish to remain innocent any longer' declared Bingley in a quiet tone.

'Do you even know what-'

'Again Darcy! No I do not. But show me, teach me. Explain in actions not words the ways in which a man can lie with another man.'

'You are not doing this to learn for a woman?' Darcy's mind seemed to be working slower than usual. He was having trouble understanding the words coming from Charles's mouth.

'Is it so different?' asked Bingley, 'For a man to lie with a man, than it is for a man to lie with a woman.'

'Well… there are one or two particulars.' Darcy struggled to form the sentence. He praised himself on being a bold man. A man of decision. Here he was struggling to use basic English. '… But I suppose, in essence it is the same.'

'Fitzwilliam, I am tired of asking. Will you allow yourself to show me?'

'I….I will', in all honesty, there was nothing he would not deny his friend if it was in his power to grant it. He was completely at the subject and mercy of Charles Bingley and he could not even bring himself to hate it. Instead, he resolved to own it.

'Stand up' he ordered, raising from his own chair himself. Charles did as he was told. Their hands were still in each other's grasp from where they had been resting on Darcy's thigh for all that time.

'Come' he said as he led Bingley across the room and through the door to the adjoining bedchamber.