Rated T for language and implied sex. Fluffy one shot.

One

They are invited at a barbeque party. The weather, he is told, is perfect for barbeque: not too cold and certainly not too hot. It's true; the weather is quite mild - for an October day with a slow steady drizzle. It could've been worse he thinks, in more ways than he cares to imagine, and Charles would've still dragged him to spend time with his newest Angel and her earthly family.

Mr. Bennet is pissed off for being ordered to see to the grill and Mrs. Bennet loudly explains that it's all for the benefit of the Bingleys, otherwise "casseroles are the way to go when feeding a crowd."

Caroline and Louisa are horrified at the sight of greasy sausages and burger patties of unknown provenance and uncertain ingredients.

There are no eating implements and Darcy stopped using his hands to grab food by the time he could say Coq au vin and Fillet mignon. He looks around a little alarmed - surely they would bring out forks for the salad? They do, but they are plastic ones and why would Mrs. Bennet supply him with a real steak knife, but not a good fork is very hard to comprehend.

"Burgers are meant to be savoured with all of one's senses, Charles," a voice floats from behind him. He turns around just in time to see Elizabeth licking her fingers clean of barbecue sauce. He suddenly needs to clear his throat, so he does. "Unless I'm offending the delicate sensibilities of your fitzwilliam friend?"

Darcy can actually see his name stripped of meaning, transformed in attribute and de-capitalized; he smiles thinly, picks a sausage with two fingers and experimentally takes a bite - not bad.

Jane Bennet smiles and quickly looks away; Charles gives a short bark of amusement and pats him on the back; Elizabeth's mirth overflows in great peals of laughter; and Caroline is suddenly pale.

There are only a couple more hours to endure the party while being the only one with a stained shirt.

-§§§-

Two

Another damn party. Don't these people need to work? Party after party, after party, after party: at the Bennets, at the Lucases, the Longs (or is it Ling? Or Lee?), the Gouldings, and let's not forget the Phillipses and who knows who else. And now, of course, Charles feels - feels - he has to host a party himself.

At least Wickham had the brains to not show his face; this ought to count for something.

"I'm telling you, Jane, he's got a giant pole up his ass."

"Give the man a break, Liz. I really don't get what he ever did to you; besides, not everybody dances."

"Girls! Girls! What are you doing here? What did I tell you before we came? Tonight's important, especially for you, Jane."

"We were ogling the studs, Mom."

"Oh," Mrs. Bennet's train of thought is derailed for a moment while she sweeps her eyes over the mass of bodies. "Oh, yes," she says with a little smile. "Remember what I taught you. You can always tell what he'll do in bed by how much effort he puts into foreplay."

"And dancing is most certainly foreplay!" The three women chorus and break into raucous laughter.

It's late or very early, depending how you look at it, and Charles' party has moved into one non descript club playing non descript music for people to grind and sweat against each other. He hates the clubs and the music and the sweat and the grinding and the… Wait a moment! Yeah, Charles and Jane are definitely engaged in foreplay. He should warn his friend to cool things off a bit - right now.

Instead his feet had carried him where Liz dances alone, her arms extended above her head, her midriff almost bare, her breasts pushed up and forward. He doesn't say anything, she wouldn't hear him in any case, just fits himself behind her, his hands on her hips, steadying her to his rhythm. She looks back once and adds a bit more sass to her movements, then suddenly breaks away and leaves him all alone. She only turns again to smirk at him. What's that suppose to mean?

-§§§-

Three

"You think we should date? Although you can't stand my mother? Or my sisters? But you're willing to overlook it all for my sake? Is that what you're saying?"

It doesn't really go the way he imagined it would. She doesn't seem to care about his feelings, instead she dwells on the inconsequential stuff. He is already over all that, but still.

"You cannot argue that some members of your family are goddamn awful."

"Why the hell do you think I care about your opinion of them?"

"If we are going to date and maybe, in time, develop our relationship further, they could well become an issue, Elizabeth," he answers reasonably, although it's clear things are out of his control and he's not sure how to fix it.

"An issue, huh? Is that why you broke up Jane and Bings? She became an issue for you to deal with? And why the fuck did you even -"

"Elizabeth," he says and then he stops and shrugs. "Yes, your sister was becoming an issue. I know what I saw."

"My family is my family! They are not an issue! And you don't get talk like this about them!"

Liz has completely lost it by now, yelling in his face and what is he supposed to do?

"There's no point in denying that some of our respective relatives are less than stellar," he says when there's a break. "I respect your intelligence too much to pretend otherwise.

"Yeah, I bet you do," she answers and the derision he hears chills him. "But do you respect me?"

He misses a beat, doesn't answer right away, doesn't even understand what's her question and when he blinks again she's gone.

-§§§-

Four

"Just shut up, Caroline."

"What?"

"You are beyond ridiculous."

"Will!"

"Elizabeth is the most wonderful and genuine person I've ever met. She's not here to stalk me or throw herself at me, but if I'm very lucky she'll let me throw myself at her."

Ah, the door is massive oak and survived more than one dramatic exit in its lifetime.

"I'm sorry, Charles. It was rude of me; and cruel. I'll apologize," he says and he is sorry for getting ahead of himself and blurting everything to Caroline; and a little for being cruel, but only a little.

"Yes, it was," his friend replies absentmindedly. "True as well, no doubt."

"Yes."

"Tell me again why I, on the other hand, just had to leave Jane?"

-§§§-

Five

"I don't think so, Darcy," George says without any trace of worry. "In fact you should think how much you're going to pay me to keep my mouth shut about her," he continues smirking at Liz's sister. "She was more than willing, I assure you. In fact it was her idea to sell in my stead. Wasn't it, Lyds?"

Lydia just sobs harder and that's admission enough. They probably won't put her behind bars, but the questioning and the trial, if it comes to it, and the knowledge that everybody will forever know how stupid you've been is enough to bring anybody down.

"Yeah, she loves me so much. She can't help herself; just like Geor-"

He doesn't get to finish - Darcy has promised himself he'll kill George if he ever does so much as think of Georgiana again in his life, let alone speak her name. Two minutes later George has a broken nose and his front teeth are dangling at an odd angle.

Lydia watches him in awe.

On retrospect it wasn't probably his best idea. He took Lydia to her aunt and uncle and had to endure an almost one hour drive during which the teen pawed him with impunity under the guise of checking his thighs for injuries. His thighs? Injured in a fist fight?

And then she insisted she be the one to care for his hands.

No, he could not stay for dinner, maybe some other time. Yes, he'll deal with Wickham, they should not worry. It was nothing, really, no thanks needed, he's positive he has to rush, but they'll meet again for sure.

-§§§-

Plus one

"You're sure?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Of course I'm sure."

"I do not want to rush you; to rush us."

"You don't, my fitzwilliam hunk."

He still cannot stand (or understand) her obsession to spelling his name like she would an adjective to be attached to various proper nouns - her words, not his. It cracks her up though, every friggin' time she manages to fitzwilliamize stuff - her words, not his, of course; so he puts up with it the best he can.

"Hey, what's on your mind?"

He's been silent for some time now, he doesn't know how long. He didn't even made it past the door into her tiny studio.

"I guess I'm nervous. I don't want to screw this."

"You won't; I won't let you."

Some forty minutes later (or maybe less, although he hopes the whole episode lasted at least twenty minutes) they are both trying to catch their breath all the while looking at each other from a new perspective. Very new, very wonderful, totally hot perspective.

"This was, hands down, the best sex I ever had; with or without a partner," he thinks.

"Totally," his lover agrees and laughs so hard she hiccups.

"Shit. That was crass."

"Oh, come on, a girl likes to know she's the best lay in town," she replies seriously and doubles down in laughter again.

"Just kill me now."

"Nah, I'm thinking I'm gonna keep you around for a while. For research purposes; see if we can top this."

"Marry me?" She doesn't answer, doesn't make a joke, just looks at him frowning. Why, oh, why can he not keep his mouth shut? "I mean," but she cuts him off.

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Sure."

He would like to talk more, to tell her of his love, of what she means to him. She doesn't let him though, she has no need for words, she only wants him.