"Not your cup of tea?"
He squints to see the bartender - the young man's form growing blurrier by the second. He squishes his face, discontent, and shakes his head violently. It's been six hours since he found Georgiana in that dirty, hellhole of a motel. It's been one hour since he finally, safely ensconced her in the most expensive room on this wing of the hotel. He doesn't know what liquid he's just downed, but he knows the drink - and the circus that is his life right now - is not his cup of tea.
"Not mine either." The girl's voice hits his right ear.
He swings his head towards her, and he catches his breath.
She's beautiful - fit, not too tall, with shoulder-length brunette waves framing her invisible face.
"You're beautiful," he says because he does. Alcohol - copious amounts of it - can be a very emancipating thing.
She giggles, and her laugh is beautiful.
"You're nice too, aren't you?" Darcy mumbles. His nose catches a whiff of her scent - something strong, yet feminine. "You don't betray people."
"That's right. I don't." Her voice grows a little harsher as she rights herself on the stool beside him. She demands a replacement drink from the disgruntled bartender.
Her movements feel exaggerated, but she's enchanting - entrancing. She hasn't asked him to get her a drink, and he likes her even more for that.
"You know what it feels like, right?" She says out of the blue. He leans his head on the bar, facing sideways, to listen to her.
"What feels like what?"
"Betrayal." She downs her shot and asks for another. Twenty feet away, people gyrate on the dance floor - and the band is way too loud.
"Yes," Darcy hisses. His focus is completely on her - Miss Enchanting Stranger. "My sister didn't deserve it."
In an instant, she's standing beside him, body pressed against his. It takes him a few long seconds to realize she's holding his collar in an unforgiving grip.
"What do you know?" She demands, eyes hot.
He wants to kiss her - wants to bed her - wants to do so much that he can't really fo -
"My friend sold my sister." His words come out broken, interrupting his own thoughts. The fresh heartbreak takes over him like drowning waves. "To be a call girl."
She looks unfazed for a moment, like she's taking it all in without surprise. Then she lets him go and slides back on her seat.
"My sister's fiancé dumped her - a week before the wedding." A stray tear escapes her. He reaches over to wipe it, but she swats his hand away.
"I'm so sorry," he says sincerely. There's something vulnerable about this woman - the limitations of her inner strength.
"It's not your fault." She shifts to face her new drink. "And neither is your sister's horrid suffering."
For the first time in three weeks of frenzied hacking, tracking, and chasing - he smiles just a little, even if it's on the dour side. "Thanks."
She nods, eyes zooming in on her drink.
"Were they supposed to marry in Vegas?" He asks a minute later, when his mind starts connecting the dots of the sporadic details she's just given him.
"No." She winces. "This was supposed to be her bachelorette trip."
They talk at the bar for the next few hours - exchanging mumbles and groans about how much life sucks. They talk about Vegas and how, at its core, the place is disgusting.
"Why did she want to come here?" He asks the blob of colors that is his surprise therapist. His head hurts. His limbs fly. "Vegas sucks."
"No argument there." She laughs coarsely. After she downs her eighth-or-tenth shot of the night, she frowns. "It was my idea."
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's fine." She moves around on her chair. He can't really tell if she's moving closer. "They were perfect for each other - sweet, kind, amazing. The whole Vegas thing was supposed to be a joke."
"A joke?"
"Puttin' devil horns on angels thing." She buries her face between her hands. He can't really hear what she's mumbling face-down.
"Sorry?"
"Jane was perfect!" She bolts upright. He barely discerns her throwing her arms around wildly. "What kind of heartless jerk dumps the best woman in the world?"
"Yeah."
There's a stinging in his heart, in his brain, in his eyes. It's miraculous that the stranger at the bar is the only person who understands him right now.
"What kind of jerk sells a friend into the sex industry?" He talks bitterly. His heart and his trust are both irreparably broken.
"Villains." She sneers.
"Yes," he agrees.
They both drink in silence for a few seconds. The row of shots in between them dwindles down just a little more.
"I'm Will," he says all of a sudden. He feels her moving closer. "Will Darcy."
"Lizzie Bennet." She hiccups. There's an abandon about her that he will never forget. Heartbreak knows heartbreak. She grins at him. "Now we're not strangers anymore."
"No, we're not." He smiles a little.
The thing is with Vegas - late hours don't really drive people away.
Another hour later, according to his watch, the number of people gets ridiculously stifling.
"You wanna take a walk?" He yells over the music, over the head of the person trying to get to the bartender by squeezing in between them.
She hiccups loudly. "Sure!"
It's been a long time - maybe two hours, maybe more - since they began their 'walk.' Will is her new best friend. He scoffs at Charles without ever having met him. He's super handsome when he smiles. He giggles like a boy at the height of his drunkenness - all gangly limbs and slippery steps and avowals of eternal friendship.
"You want shrimp?"
"Gonna wine and dine me?" She smiles up at him, her weight split between the wall and his sprawling chest. He's tall - and devilishly handsome. The scowl on his face when she first found him at the bar evaporated about an hour ago. He's smiling now - even if there's still a hint of a frown on his forehead.
"Can't let a girl go hungry."
"What a gentleman." She hugs him tightly. He lets her.
Somewhere down the corridor, something squeaks, then stop.
"Wait," Will Darcy whispers into her hair. She stumbles a little when he pushes her away.
"Where are you going?"
"Shh," he hushes her. She frowns after him, fascinated. Two shakes of the head and a slightly clearer mind later, she follows him.
"Will, what are you - "
His arms swing backwards to hold her in place. She tries to peer over the corner to see what he's seeing.
The room service cart - which just has to be the source of squeakiness - lies motionless. The dull steel cloche sits idly on top of the wintry white sheet.
"Da - "
"Wait." He leaves her behind and runs for the cart. His arms dangle beside him as he hunches over. His movements are almost ape-like.
Somehow, she finds it funny and attractive.
"Wi - " She stops when she sees him check his surroundings, grab the top of the cloche, lift it, grab the plate of shrimp beneath it, and drop it again.
The sparkle in his eyes when he shuffles back towards her is priceless - mischief and charm and elation.
"Will!" She squeals when he reaches her. He grabs her hand, and they break into a wildly fun run.
"Don't spill the shrimp!" She laughs when their steps start to falter.
"Anything for my lady." He grins.
She loves that she's his lady.
"What the heck?" A loud cry volleys down the hallway from the end they previously occupied. "Who took the shrimp! Why would anyone - "
Their frantic giggles and staggering steps pull them away from whatever remaining curses the waiter had in store.
"Are you broke?" She half-laughs, half-shouts when their scampering dwindles down at the other end of the hotel courtyard. The plate in his left hand carries a whopping total of one decapitated shrimp. She takes the plate from him and smells the sole sea critter with exaggerated gusto.
He laughs. He's a little less wobbly now, just swinging from side to side.
"Actually, I'm loaded."
"Too loaded to buy me shrimp?" She smiles. She hasn't smiled like this for so long. The garden landscape makes her twirl - makes her feet light, airy, and happy.
"But not too loaded for a diamond ring." He leans towards her and presses her against the nearest bench. She sits back against it instantly - her lips against his lips in tow.
She's thought of kissing him all night.
The sensation of actually kissing him is a whole different story.
The fountain behind him wakes, sending another three-tiered spurt towards the sky. Inside her, Lizzie feels the exact same way.
"Will." Her voice is coarse when she whispers his name. His lips travel to her cheek, her jaw, her neck.
With her eyes closed, she can almost pretend she's known him forever.
"Lizzie Bennet." His voice caresses her name, his hand her face. She opens her eyes to see how close his bottomless gaze is. The feel of his mouth still tingles on her lips. He's a good kisser - a great kisser - all things considered. "Will you marry me?"
And, just because he's proposing after three hours of acquaintance, sort of like a Disney prince - she responds like a Disney princess.
"Yes."
"The minister was funny - don't you think?" She wobbles into the room, giggles alternating with her words. When the latest wobble shoves her too far to one side, she shoots a hand out towards the posh hotel wallpaper.
Her new husband catches her before she does the wall.
"William - oh wait! Will!" She finds herself in his arms, embraced and beamed at, while he whirls them across the room.
She screams, then beams, then laughs. He keeps her off her toes - moving resolutely towards a single direction.
Given the spacious quarters and the fact that it takes them two doorways before they get to the bed, she figures he's gotten them the honeymoon suite.
"Oomph!" She feels like the wind's knocked out of her, when she lands on the bed.
He climbs on it right after her - and looms above her, a mountain of masculine might.
"My husband." She trails a finger from his temple to his chin, in wonder at the words. Somewhere along the way to city hall - sometime between their fumbling into the taxi and the taxi's driver glare when they started making out too much - she'd stopped being that drunk.
But, even half sober, he's handsome and charming and protective to a fault.
So she married him anyway.
"Do you like your ring?" He lands on his side. She feels the warmth of his torso pressing firmly against her own. She smiles up at him. Even in bed, he's taller.
"It's a little big for a humble indie theater producer," she admits while lifting the back of her left hand into both their view.
He catches it with his large, warm, right hand fingers.
Then he kisses her hand, his nose avoiding the 3-carat diamond sitting on top of her ring finger like a giant rock on rivulets.
"It's perfect for you," he says.
"Not too flashy?" She laughs - then starts to moan when his lips start exploring her bare neck.
"Beautiful - just like you."
For the next fifteen minutes, memories of the grumpy minister, her off-the-rack-yet-somehow-magical wedding gown, and the corny chapel decorations fade away. She's making new memories - they're making new memories - of his hands on her waist, her tongue in his mouth, his stubble against her skin, and their clothes on the carpet floor.
Her strapless gown zips down easily. His tuxedo takes just a little more work. Soon, it's skin against skin - hip against hip. His hands leave fire wherever they trail. Her gasps grow heavier, breathier. They move in unison - kisses and whispers and caresses as synchronized as if they've been doing this for years.
He stops briefly when the heat warms up to a fervor.
"Lizzie?"
"Yes." She grabs his face with both her hands. Her eyes, heart, and body are his - now and forever. "Yes."
She attacks him with kisses.
He welcomes her with his arms, heart, body, and soul.
Here, in the thrill of their unexpected marriage - here, in the privacy of their honeymoon sweet - any other troubles lie temporarily and dangerously forgotten.
A/N: I've been wanting to write a "redo" romance for ages, but this was fully fleshed out only after a random hotel rewatch made me realize the mom in The Parent Trap is called "Liz." I do not follow the movie's plot, but many moments and scenarios are inspired by it. For now, we've only gotten as far as the impulsive marriage, but things will expand beyond their drunken revelries soon.
In many ways, this story will be the antithesis of "But That's What Makes It Love." One will be distinctly modern and the other completely Regency. One will be light-hearted while the other much more serious. I just hope that you guys will enjoy this too!