Disclaimer: Characters in this story belong to the incomparable Jane Austen. I'm only a lowly fanfiction writer who created this imaginary storyline.
Beta credits: badwolfoncer and crimesofadeadpool on tumblr.
Greetings, lovely readers, this is my first attempt at a JAFF. I've lurked in this fandom for as long as I can remember, but lately I've been plagued with many AU ideas for my favourite JA couple, so please bear with me while you read another silly modern AU of our dearest Darcy and Lizzy.
As usual, constructive criticisms are always welcomed.
Without further ado, enjoy.
Of Green Eyes and Cardboard Boxes
A thump, a groan, a droplet of sweat.
"Four done, six to go," she muttered under her breath, quickly followed by a line of expletives, as she stood glaring at the boxes with one hand on her hip and the other trying to wipe off the beads of sweat on her forehead. She was on the verge of screaming out in frustration, consequences be damned.
It was six o'clock on a beautiful Sunday morning that found Elizabeth Bennet moving ten big and heavy cardboard boxes up to her new university flat herself. The grumpy truck driver from her moving company, who had been complaining non-stop about her 'impeccable timing' all the way from her home to her new flat, had driven off right after lifting out her boxes from his truck.
With a grunt, Elizabeth once again headed down the stairs for her fifth cardboard box. She was managing everything pretty well (considering her 5'3" frame, her room being on the third floor, and having already moved four boxes by herself), when…CRASH! And she promptly went tumbling down the stairs with her cardboard box following not far from behind, its content spilling out to all corners of the floor.
She heard a distinctly low (and sexy, she later grudgingly admitted to herself) male voice swearing, then, "Won't you grow a pair of eyes and watch where you're going?!"
Her eyes widened and her brain immediately cleared of whatever confused state it was in. Her head snapped up and she glared at him. "I was managing exceptionally well until you came! An apology would suffice."
He stared at her disconcertingly for a while, huffed and turned away from her. He then continued down the flight of stairs and walked straight pass her and out of the glass doors of the lobby, leaving Elizabeth and her properties sprawled across its floor.
"Bastard!" she screamed after his (rather magnificent) ass.
"Oh my god. You." Out of all people and places, she just had to meet him in her favourite getaway coffee shop. She briefly wondered what divine power she had offended to deserve this.
"I beg your pardon? Me? Do I know you?"
"Yeah, you're the rude asshole who pushed me down the stairs two weeks ago."
"Wait. You're that new girl with the stunning green eyes! That's why you looked so familiar!" he exclaimed, smirking, but the smug smile quickly fell of his face when she didn't respond for more than half a minute.
"Wha-?" Elizabeth almost blushed when what she just heard finally made it into her still sleep-addled mind. Almost. She stared up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted slightly in disbelief.
Her tussled brown hair was pulled into a messy bun behind her and she was wearing a worn jumper that hung off her shoulders and looked way too big for her petite form. Her dark blue skinny jeans showed off her slim legs that looked, despite her height, quite long. Her tiny hands were wrapped around a cup of warm coffee.
He shifted his gaze from her to his shoes and fidgeted with his long fingers, refusing to meet her eyes. Finally, running a hand through his charcoal hair, he continued abashedly, "Um, sorry. Sorry about that too, last week, you know… the bumping into you and everything. I was in a hurry…"
Knowing he wouldn't be finishing off that sentence any time soon, Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow at him and took a small sip from her burning coffee, just for the sake of theatricality. "You are aware your apology was made, let's see…" she pretended to count her fingers with one hand while the other still held onto her cup of coffee, and after a while, continued, "thirteen days and two hours late?"
He groaned, "Oh, please, don't be so petty."
"Petty?! Did you just accuse me of being petty? Coming from the person who is clumsy as hell, abominably rude, insufferably awkward and doesn't even know how to make a decent apology? How very funny."
"I said I'm sorry!"
"Yeah well, you're thirteen days and two hours late, so apology not accepted."
He groaned again and muttered something under his breath that Elizabeth didn't quite catch.
"Well, I best be going, see you around!" She smiled up at him with fake cheerfulness and was about to turn to leave when she felt his hand wrap around her arm, stopping her. But he quickly let go of her arm as if he was burnt when she spun around to face him.
"Wait! Um, I'm William Darcy," he stretched out an arm for a handshake, "you can call me Will."
Elizabeth eyed his hand with trepidation, glancing at his face then back at his hand, before finally slipping her small one into his for a light shake. "Elizabeth Bennet. My friends call me Lizzy but we're obviously not friends, so I'm Elizabeth to you, or Miss Bennet, if that's what you prefer."
"Elizabeth." He confirmed, loving the way her name rolled off his tongue with such ease, and then with a nod, they went their separate ways.
Will's face or name never once popped up in Elizabeth's mind after their second meeting, for she had been having a rather enjoyable few days with a bloke named George, who claimed to have just graduated from the university Elizabeth had just started in and was working part-time as a barista in her favourite coffee shop while taking a gap year.
On the other hand, Elizabeth had unknowingly made herself quite at home in the back of Will's mind. Somehow, that fiery brunette and her pair of captivating green eyes had all of a sudden been occupying most, if not all, of Will's daydreams. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about it, or more specifically – her – for that matter, but one thing was for sure: they had definitely started off on the wrong foot.
Elizabeth's third coffee date with George had been going very smoothly when Will Darcy appeared out of nowhere and threw a punch right at George's face, breaking his nose. The waiters had immediately ushered them out onto the streets and a small crowd had gathered to watch their dual.
"What the fuck was that!?" Elizabeth shouted at him after she finally managed to separate the men, her green eyes blazing, and her cheeks tinted red with indignation and slight embarrassment.
"Leave, Elizabeth. He isn't someone any sane person would want to associate themselves with."
"Ah, so now you're accusing me of being insane? That's definitely a few levels higher than just 'petty', huh?"
"No! I didn't-" Elizabeth lifted up a finger to silence him.
"Honestly, I don't really care what you did or did not mean, nor do I really care what and how you think of me. Who gives you the right to order me around anyway? George's funny, charming, and gentlemanly, unlike someone else I know. I really don't see why anyone wouldn't want to be friends with him." She paused for a while, seemingly deeply contemplating something, and then added, "apart from you, of course. I wonder why." And with that, she walked back into the coffee shop, to George (who had by then went back into the shop for ice to stop the bleeding), without glancing back, leaving a fuming Will with bruised knuckles standing among a dispersing crowd staring at her retreating form.
Apparently, Will and George had been best friends (almost like brothers, as George told her wistfully) before a 'most unfortunate event drew them apart'. They were never close after that.
Elizabeth thought she had never despised someone as much as she despised William Darcy the moment George finished recounting his tale of woe that Saturday afternoon on their first dinner date.
She couldn't be more wrong.
Somehow, Elizabeth and Will kept on bumping into each other around campus, near their flat and in Elizabeth's coffee shop (she liked referring to it as hers; it somehow gives her a sense of satisfaction). In those little meetings, they talked about books they liked and TV shows they enjoyed, they talked about their school, their families, and their aspirations. But during all that time, she never once forgot about George's words. Elizabeth had started to suspect their innocent little meetings were not so 'innocent' after the third of its kind, but she couldn't think of any reasons why William Darcy, the person who she had sworn to despise for as long as she lived, would be stalking her, so she kept on pushing the thought away into a dark corner of her mind.
After their sixth meeting, which involved Will literally running into her when she was walking back home from school, he had looked so (adorably) flustered, with his clothes and long curly black hair unkempt, Elizabeth was determined to ask her flatmates about him.
That night, she learnt from Charlotte, Lydia and Cathy, her three flatmates, that Will Darcy was doing his third and last year of his Law degree, that his extremely wealthy father (owner of Darcy Solicitors LLP., which was among the top three firms in the magic circle) owned the flat they were living in and that his (single) room, which was double the size of theirs, was the most luxurious room in the whole building, and of course, nobody had ever been inside apart from his long-time best friend Charles, his cleaner, and the man himself.
"No wonder William Darcy is such a stuck-up asshole. His parents had probably spoiled him his whole life!" Elizabeth came to this conclusion after three hours of listening to her three flatmates' idle gossips. She almost pitied the man.
William Darcy told her he 'thinks he loves her' on a cold and wet Wednesday afternoon, after walking her home from classes. She had (quite unwillingly) invited him into her room when he stood outside her door awkwardly for more than half a minute just staring at her expectantly. He also told her he found her 'eccentric but a refreshing change', that he loved 'how well-read, humorous, philosophical and deep' she was, that he had 'never felt this way about someone before' and that he knew 'his father would never approve of her', but 'he still likes – maybe loves – her, despite her clumsiness, her weirdness, her tendency to associate herself with the wrong people and what his father would say, and would like to take her out to dinner in a five-star steak house where he had already made reservations for two at 6pm sharp.'
She had gawked at him with mouth agape and unblinking eyes, completely shocked, while Will paced around her tiny living room in agitation, waiting for her reply.
"Can you please stop?"
"Huh?" he whirled towards her, dark hair dishevelled from being swept at for too many times in the last ten minutes.
"Can you please stop pacing? It's making me dizzy."
"Oh. Oh, yes, of course, I apologise."
Three heartbeats, which, to Will, seemed like a century, passed and he started again. "So…? Aren't you changing?"
That immediately snapped Elizabeth out from her daze.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not going anywhere so I won't be changing," she replied, trying her best to remain calm and civil.
"You're rejecting me?"
"Yes."
"May I know why?"
"I'm pretty sure you're aware of the countless reasons."
"Well, please do me the great honour of explaining it to me then, for I have not the slightest idea what you're referring to."
The determination to stay calm became the last thing in her mind as she promptly told him all about his rudeness, his conceited pride, his ungentlemanly behaviour, and his treatment of George.
He lingered in her flat for only a few minutes after that, unable to decipher how his evening had gone so horribly wrong, apologised briefly, then fled.
Later, while on the train heading home for Christmas with a neatly handwritten letter in her hand which was signed 'Yours, William Darcy', Elizabeth reflected that she wouldn't have been so prone to believe all the lies George had fed her, if Will and herself had not started off so badly. She still couldn't recite the whole letter word by word, line by line, but some segments repeated themselves in her head like a curse.
It turned out that George was a cad who regularly appeared in clubs just to chat up ladies, spike their drinks, then take them back to his dump of an apartment and devour them. Will's sister, Georgia, only thirteen years old at the time, had almost fallen victim to his games once when Will and George were still close friends. He told her in his letter that he had never approved of George's way of treating the opposite sex, but he couldn't lose his friendship as they had grown up together, and that George had always been the easy-going one between the two, and Will wouldn't have made any friends at school without him. Will had been torn apart by hatred, betrayal and guilt after that incident, and Charles was the only person who he had trusted since then. George was kicked out of college a year later when he was accused of two accounts of rape, but he got away quite easily as there wasn't enough evidence to prove him guilty.
Will also included Charles' number at the end of the letter, in case she wanted some sort of verification, as he was the only other soul on Earth, apart from Georgia herself and George, the culprit, who knew about what happened three years ago.
This man had 'maybe loved' her, Elizabeth thought ruefully. This caring, loving and responsible brother, this loyal friend, this protective yet awkward, gorgeous man, this…
She could do nothing to stop neither the tears that were leaking from her eyes, nor the hollow, aching feeling of despair, and something else entirely, eating away at her heart.
On Christmas Eve, Elizabeth received a call from Cathy. Cathy had decided not to go home for Christmas and was staying in their flat with Lydia, and was freaking out while trying to tell her that Lydia had disappeared. They had gone clubbing in town and were dancing together when Lydia suddenly excused herself for the loo (Cathy suspected that she had probably spotted a handsome stranger) and never came back. Cathy went back to their apartment feeling tipsy, but had not been too worried as she thought Lydia would probably give her a call or something the next day, but the call, the voicemail or the text message never came. That was three days ago.
"Why? Why on earth did he do that? Why, why, why, why, why?" Elizabeth cried as her two flatmates watched her fling herself face-down onto her single bed.
It was New Year's Eve. Elizabeth had taken the last train from her hometown back to their flat at night after spending Christmas day with her family, and Charlotte had also gone back to help Cathy find Lydia straight away after receiving her call. The trio ran into Will the day before while leaving their flat. He had somehow sensed their distress and compelled Elizabeth to spill the whole story. He then immediately offered to help them, which Elizabeth, of course, refused, in which pig-headed Will, obviously, did not listen, and helped them anyway.
When he couldn't find them in the clubs he knew George frequented in, he broke into George's apartment (which was technically his father's) and found Lydia naked and knocked out on his couch. He had found Lydia, brought her back to their flat, and got her a psychiatrist and a private doctor. He also pulled some strings and somehow got George arrested, all within five short days.
'Thank you so much for everything you've done. Lizzy'
Elizabeth sent Will a text message after hours of deliberation, and nervously asking Charles for his number. She then literally jumped and dropped her phone when it suddenly rang in her hands a second later, when she was still deciding whether or not she had done the right thing by sending that text.
"Hello?"
"Hi. Elizabeth? It's Will."
"Will."
"Yeah… so… um…" an awkward pause, then, "How's Lydia?"
"She's fine, well she's not, but she's handling it all quite unexpectedly calmly."
"Oh. That's good."
"Yeah… it is..." she trailed off, trying her hardest to formulate coherent thoughts and sentences in her mind. "Look, um, I just really want, no, need to thank you for all that you've done for us and-"
"Wait, stop, I don't need your gratitude, I should have done something after his episode with Georgia but I let him escape. If I had brought it to the police, and well, this would never have happened to Lydia. I'm sorry you all had to go through this during Christmas, it's such bad timing. Wait, that sounded wrong." She imagined him gesturing with his well-formed arms as he said that, and then running his fingers through his dark ebony hair as he groaned. It suddenly struck her how she had always been so hyper-aware of his presence when they were together, and how she found all his little gestures so very endearing. "What I meant was, I'm sorry you had to go through this at all, and Lydia…"
"But this isn't your fault! You told me about him. I could have warned her!" she groaned into the phone, "Look, if it's anyone's fault at all, then it's George's and George's alone. Let's stop arguing about this, okay?"
"Okay."
"Okay."
"Elizabeth?" He started somewhat hesitantly then trailed off. "Are… are we friends now?"
She gave an exasperated sigh which he obviously misinterpreted because he immediately begged her to ignore his previous question.
"Do you still 'maybe love' me?"
"No. No, I don't." She felt her chest tighten, heart plunge, while tears threatened to fog over her eyes. "No, I think I love you. I love you."
"Wait, what!?" And all of a sudden, she felt like she was floating, flying, walking on cloud nine.
"Shit, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Shit, I've scared you away again now, haven't I? Bloody hell, I'm so bad at these things!" That last sentence was almost a scream that Elizabeth had to hold her phone an inch away from her ear to prevent him from deafening her.
"I think I love you too," she whispered after a few moment of silence.
"You… you love me? Are you sure? I mean, you think you love me? So you 'maybe love' me? Really?"
"Remind me again why we're doing this over the phone?" At this, Elizabeth received a deep, throaty, genuine, and most brilliant laughter, that rang at her ears every day after that.