Hello, lovely readers! Originally, each of these were various ideas that cropped up as potential fics. But after having all of them sit on my hard drive for far too long, I decided to wrap them all together as a filling-in-the-details conversations. Part 1 is pre-Pemberley; part 2 covers the Pemberley arc.

July

William sits on his bed at Netherfield, freshly showered and dressed after a long afternoon bike ride. He's been riding a lot this summer in what he's now come to realize is a vain effort to clear his mind. But for whatever reason, his thoughts seem bent on remaining permanently clouded and his heart is set on completely overwhelming his judgment. This seemingly unending wave of feelings and emotion is most unwelcome, and none of the many miles he's pedaled will make them fade. If anything, the solitary rides have given him more opportunity to consider potential conversation openers, which is what leads to him calling his sister to talk about Top 40 radio.

Gigi finally stops laughing long enough to speak. "William. Oh my gosh. How can you have not heard that song? It's everywhere."

"My car radio is always set to either NPR or classical, you know that."

He knows she does. He says that classical calms him down when traffic is horrendous on the unforgiving San Francisco hills. But part of him listens to classical because their mother and father listened to classical, and it soothes him to know that there's a part of them with him when he goes to work every day.

However, the hit of the summer is decidedly not classical, which is why he's turned to his sister for help.

"Hasn't someone at work at least shown you a cover of it? They're all over YouTube."

"No."

"Well just go type in 'Call Me Maybe' and you'll see it. It's so great. They even did a video where the Olympic swim team danced around to it! They looked like they were having so much fun."

William pauses before he speaks, weighing his options of how to proceed. Swimming is a tough subject for both of them these days, no matter how often Gigi will rattle on about how excited she is for the Olympics and to see Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte kick ass. Not to mention that the thought of a dancing Olympic swim team just brings other dances to mind — other dances that he is increasingly annoyed with himself for enjoying and remembering in vivid detail.

"So it's really good for dancing, huh?" He cringes at his awkward turn of phrase.

Gigi laughs. "Yes, it's popular and really good for dancing."

William is just finishing hooking up the final wire on the Lees' sound system when Caroline stomps in, collapses on a nearby chair and heaves a long, drawn-out sigh. William is glad his face is hidden by the stereo box; it's much easier to allow his disdain for her theatrics to show when she's not staring at him.

"Darcy," she says in a rather annoyed way. "What on earth does Bing see in that girl? Honestly. His little infatuation has become seriously problematic."

William tucks the wires into the back of the stereo box, then reaches down for the final plastic piece he needs to screw in place. Caroline's irritation is palpable, however, and William knows that speaking is necessary.

"I think he's infatuated," he says slowly, attempting to hide his own frustration — with Caroline, with himself, with all of it. This entire summer has been an endless series of vexations and exasperations, mostly centered around the auburn-haired Bennet sisters, one of which Bing can't stop babbling about and the other which Darcy cannot seem to get out of his head. He frowns, wishing yet again that he could clear his mind of Lizzie Bennet once and for all.

"Infatuations are pointless," Caroline says superciliously. "You have to tell Bing that. He's due back at school in the fall, and then what? He's going to come back here on the weekends and hang out with these people? William, they listen to Top 40 radio unironically."

"I know," he says shortly, stepping down off the stepstool he used to install the speakers. He wonders for a moment if Caroline is going to thank him for making the effort to put them in, then brushes the thought aside. Caroline isn't much for saying 'thank you.'

"I even heard Lizzie singing along to the local pop station when she was making dinner the other night," Caroline says with great hauteur. Darcy's heartbeat picks up a bit, completely involuntarily. He rather hates himself for it.

"Which song?" he blurts out before he can stop himself. Thankfully, he's able to keep the color from rising in his cheeks as Caroline turns to stare.

"I don't know, Darcy. Like I listen to that kind of trash. It was just some silly pop number. But she must like it, or she wouldn't have known the words.

"Right," he says, before leaving the room to return the screwdriver to its proper place.

December

Gigi pads into his study and curls up in the chair next to his desk. Her socks have tiny snowmen on them. William has been working all day, throwing himself into end-of-year reports and laying the groundwork for the Domino launch with a vigor he hasn't displayed since their parents died.

She calls it his coping mechanism. William would rather not label it, since it brings to mind the thing about which he has to cope. He looks up from his computer to study Gigi's face, growing immediately concerned about the purple rings under her eyes.

"Gigi—"

"You know, something funny has happened," she says, looking down at her feet. He follows her line of sight. She wiggles her toes, making the snowmen dance.

He tries, and fails, to smile.

"What's that?" he asks quietly.

"I've kind of started liking her."

Her toes stop dancing. William closes his eyes as pain shoots through his chest.

"It's strange because I went into this totally prepared to hate her, and hate her videos, and hate all of it. But now that I've watched them…" Gigi pauses. She puts her hand over William's. "I started liking them. I started liking her."

William turns his wrist, squeezing Gigi's hand and feeling comforted by the nearness of his sister. He opens his eyes. She is looking at him with such sadness that he attempts to crack a smile.

"I know exactly what you mean," he says.

Thank you for reading!