Why hello! I'm recently getting back into writing fanfic, and I've had this story on the brain for awhile. I know parts of it will sound conventional, but I promise you this will not be. I will be sort of sticking to the original plot. Sort of being operative here. I don't know. It's late and this chapter is inspired by a song.

When my baby is a mess, my baby is a dancing queen

When my baby wears a dress, it's like she's not even a human being

Lisa Baby, Walk the Moon

William Darcy was thankful for a lot of things in life these days. He was thankful to have such a loyal best friend like Charles Bingley who also doubled as an impeccable personal lawyer that people in such high standings as himself (the CEO of a criminally successful publishing company) desperately needed. Not only did Charlie provide solid skills in handling court cases, he was impeccably able to perceive, correctly, human nature making him the best judge of character out there. Plus he was a great drinking buddy.

He was thankful for his beautiful, healthy sister Georgiana because one couldn't ask for a more compassionate, talented sibling.

He was "begrudgingly" thankful for his eccentric cousin Richard that always reminded Darcy to relax and take off the suit every now and again.

But most of all, he was thankful for the warm body sleeping beside him, flopped on her stomach with arms supporting her head and dark brown hair splayed over dusty blue sheets. He would never be able to fully comprehend how thankful he was to have her in his life.

"Richard you're the biggest shit I know and I just want you to be aware of that," Darcy nearly spat out because his resentment was so great.

"Oh come on cuz," the aforementioned "shit" countered, "I know you love me."

"No actually I really don't," Darcy grumbled.

"And even if you did think I was a little shit, which you don't, I'm the good shit that fertilizes the fun guy in you," Richard continued without acknowledging his cousin's previous dissent.

There were few things that William Darcy really truly hated. On the list was cheap liquor, girls who were unreal with him and clubs. And seesaws.

And yet here he was, dragged by Richard to a club filled with women just trying to get a lay and cheap liquor. If there was a seesaw somewhere here Darcy was sure he'd lose himself.

"Besides make the best of it mate," his cousin continued in a phony Australian accent he'd undoubted would use to ensnare some poor dumb thing into sleeping with him. "Hell, if it'll make you feel better, drinks on me."

Darcy affirmed that it would, because if he was going to be stuck here all night (as Richard had secured the car keys in his briefs), at least he wouldn't be stuck here sober.

After his third shot of Jack, Darcy, while not wasted, was tipsy enough to think that dancing would be a wonderful idea. The DJ in the club was admittedly good, and tapping his foot while sitting at the bar no longer satisfied his urge to get down. Besides, Richard had ditched for the dance floor not long ago, and Darcy didn't want to have to pay for his fourth shot.

Without considering how mortifying it was to have an "urge to get down", Darcy moved in on the cluster of gyrating bodies and threw himself into the throng. He didn't know how long he had been dancing, until he lifted his eyes away from the cleavage of his current partner, and met the eyes of a woman a little ways in front of him on the floor.

She had dark brown hair and a tight red dress that was like second skin to a body that begged to be touched. He noticed a few other males in the vicinity who noticed her, but all seemed too intimidated to make a move.

He smiled to himself, accepting the challenge. William Darcy was never the one intimidated, but rather the one who did the intimidating. Dropping his arms from the girl's hips he slowly stalked forward to the brunette much like a lion stalking his prey and siddled up beside her.

Easily slipping his hands around her waist he matched her rhythm perfectly, touching the back of her hips firmly with the front of his own. He was really a good dancer, though he never liked to admit it to anyone.

He could smell gin on her hair when he dipped his head low. Wasted. The word crossed his mind with no feelings attached. All he felt in this moment was hypnotized by her body and it's rhythm. This was the relief he had been looking for.

Later, when the air in the room was thick, and the tension was high, the girl pulled a move on him that left him aching. Hands clenched he murmured something about him staying not too far away. He could feel her smile.

Names were hastily exchanged. Clothes were taken off even faster.

And all Darcy could think of was, This is exactly what I needed.

Not every chapter is going to be this um... dirty? So if that doesn't tickle your fancy, don't worry this is probably about as graphic as it'll get.

So what do you think so far? I have the story planned out-ish, and while my old stories are still on hiatus, I hope to not give this one the same fate.

Pretty please review?