My first Bridget Jones Diary fic! I just love the movie and the books, and it just suddenly occurred to me that this scene, is actually quite possible! but very AU, unfortunately.

Please read and review! (its not awfully long or anything)

That was utterly humiliating.

Bridget hunched at the tabletop, fingering the empty glass in front of her, idly twirling it around. Ooh, should I get more of this absolutely divine beer? One, two, three, four, five, six…oh that's 8units.Wait, no, seven. Not very good, but can be excused by utter mortification of previous (but probably will seem like yesterday for as long as I live) moment. Listlessly, she pushed a few strands of blonde hair out of her face, flinching at the memory, at Mark's stony, impassive eyes that stared unnervingly piercingly at her as she gabbled on, flustered, trying to explain her vehement outburst. Natasha's cordial laughter glittered like knives, as she dug her perfectly manicured nails possessively into Mark's arm, pulling him closer. As she had walked out of the door, holding her head high to maintain her composure, each step seeming to resonate hollowly around the room of people gawping at her, people delighted at a new piece of juicy gossip, she had felt tears pool at her eyes, and squeezed them shut tightly as she pushed open the heavy glass doors. Grimacing in the cool air, she leaned against the pillar resignedly. Should have handled this like cool-headed top career woman that surely am. Should have, in clipped voice, aka jellyfish like, laughed and said was thinking of rejecting offer at work to act like common prostitute for a special expose. No, actually would be rather lewd. Anyway, had already accepted said offer, no use reminding self further.

'Another one?' the bartender winked lasciviously at her. Bridget nodded weakly, wishing he would stopped staring at her. Bloody hell. Should not be held, but head seemed to move of independent reflex. Now shall drink up, since has ordered anyway, although will probably have swollen belly wobbling tomorrow, and liver might turn murky green and grow blisters like sachets full of wine, and—ohgod must quit morbid thoughts.

She picked up the brimming glass and gulped some down. The she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and spluttered onto her shirt, turning around in shock. Oh god. She hurriedly blotted at her clothes, averting her eyes.

'Nice to see you too.' Mark Darcy's eyes twinkled amusedly.

Why such a good mood? Probably damn pleased with himself, asshole.

Actually is a bloody gorgeous asshole.

No! No! Bridget, STOP STARING.

Bridget glanced around him. 'What're you doing here?' After a fleeting moment, she wished her voice wasn't so nasty and sour. Where's that bitch?

'Would you mind?' he said mildly, and gestured at the bartender, settling into the stool beside her.

'Where's Natasha?'



"Home, thank god.' He grimaced, and Bridget laughed, a little pleasantly surprised. 'Finally managed to fling her off.'

Bridget stared at her mug. Should I explain should I explain should I explain??

Bridget promptly decided to explain.

'Uh, Mark, about just now, I'm terribly sorry about that slip of tongue during such a…sacred moment. It just occurred to me that my boss fucking Finch—ooh what lovely alliteration!—assigned me this ghastly assignment about buffalo herds and…eggplants. Really, had forgotten to refuse, so I happened to say it out loud, really inappropriate, I apologize. I just can't imagine myself-' Bridget rambled on, starting to feel uneasy by Mark's bemused intent scrutiny, starting to feel panicky.

'-getting onto bloody giant buffalo and waving around little…purple vegetables.'

Mark leaned forward slowly, grinning, staring at her as she stuttered helplessly, and framing her face with warm hands, kissed her briefly on the mouth. What--?

He pulled away to find Bridget staring shell-shocked at him. He felt exhilaration surge through him. 'Is that what you really meant?' he whispered into her ear, his face close to hers. Smells so good! And smoulderingly gorgeous. Oh hell cannot screw up, Bridget, cannot screw up.

Bridget considered replying for a moment, then wrapped her arms around him, Mark's hands caressing at her hips gently. Their lips met again, his mouth moving imperceptibly against hers as he pulled her flush against him.

She pulled away abruptly, struggling to catch her breath. Mark looked at her questioningly. 'Natas-' she began. He placed a finger on her lips. 'Forget about her, Bridget, I told you, I like you as you are.' He smiled wryly. Probably thinking of Daniel fiasco. Damn.

'Oh.' Bridget managed. How amazingly eloquent! Who on earth utters that when on professes immense liking bordered on love for her? Something one would say to mother rattling about turkey curry, perhaps, or to man informing no chocolate-mint ice-cream left, yes, but not to gorgeous man!

'Uh, Mark..' she took a deep breath, 'I'm really sorry about Daniel-'

'Don't make me any more jealous of that fucking bastard, please.' Mark cut in, wincing, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Did he just say-? Lovely man. Bridget leaned in as Mark enveloped her lips in her passionately, her hand coming to entangle in Mark's dark hair, pulling him closer. She moaned subconsciously as Mark's fingers grazed her hip, and slowly slid under her blouse, splaying out on her back, pressing her against him. Her breathing 

quickened as he caressed her maddeningly gently, aching to feel his arms all over her, to feel him inside her…

'Let's get out of here, baby.' He whispered hoarsely, and they stumbled out of the door, still kissing wildly, Bridget gasping and panting in anticipation. Hope do not sound like giant fishy amphibian. That was Bridget's last coherent thought as they somehow staggered up to Han's apartment, and Mark kicked the door close while pushing Bridget up against the wall…

After reading, what is the next step?

To review, of course! v.g.

(this story might not be complete. i'll see the response first ;D)