NOTES: Lizzy's POV. Most of the chapter is a flashback to their date, filling in fluff and details. Also, are y'all surprised by the direction I took this new chapter? i like to keep readers on their toes ;)

(Also I'm a sucker for a trope lol)

Anyway, the next chapter will be coming as soon as I finish studying for Biology (god help me it's memorization of organ systems). Stay tuned, and leave a comment if you so wish. Have a nice day! 💕 ~Vinny

Elizabeth Bennet, one this morning— of ALL mornings— felt more like actual shit than she ever had in her life.

"Mmmhnaegghhhh," she groaned, before her in-depth monologue of intrinsic emotion was interrupted by her practically coughing up a lung.

Lizzy flopped back onto the bed, squinting at the slots of light that filtered in through her cheap blinds. Her sheets were tangled, but cold. What… had.. happ—

Ohh, right. She remembered.

"You SURE you're okay?" Fitzwillaim had asked, for what might've been the eleventh time since they went out for dinner.

"I told you, I'm f-f-f…," Lizzy's exasperated dismissal was negated, somewhat, by a gross-sounding sneeze. "...fuck."

"Aha! I knew it!" Fitzwilliam cried, slapping down his greasy pizza slice with finality, "That Arcade was a cesspool! You're sick already!"

"No I'm not," she replied, stubbornly wiping her nose. "'S jus' allergies."

Fitzwilliam gave her a patented 'do-you-think-I'm-stupid' look. "Lizzy..," he said, warningly.

"Fitzwilliam….," she attempted to tease back.

"If you're not feeling well, it's okay if we cut our date short. Really. It is."

Lizzy heaved a sigh. She REALLY didn't want tonight to end. They had finished two more rounds of laser tag, hit the bowling lanes (Fitzwilliam turned out to be a pro, who knew), and ended up at a sleazy pizza joint a minute's walk away. Fitzwilliam was so nice, and engaging, and understood her. It was incredible. He was incredible.

And Lizzy was damned if she was going to cut their time together short, just because a freak cold came out of nowhere.

But then again… her head hurt. She (the world-renowned 'STOMACH OF STEEL') felt sick on cotton candy and soda, and she kind of just wanted to go home. And Fitzwilliam was giving her that concerned, almost pleading look she couldn't resist.

Who knew the Big Man of Pemberley Studios had puppy-dog eyes.

"Fiiiine," Lizzy said, leaning back, defeated. "But only because you're so cute."

"Glad to hear my physical attributes are a deciding factor of your self-care," Fitzwilliam said, wryly.

He couldn't hide his blush though— Lizzy really liked that about him. That once you got to know him, he was so easy to read. An open book, through and through.

He cleared his throat and stood. "I'm gonna go get some napkins."

"Mmkay," Lizzy hummed, tiredly laying her head down on the paper placemat. Her sinuses felt more clogged than the Swiss alps. Ughhhh.

"You alright there?" A young waiter asked, looking worriedly down at her.

Lizzy swiftly sat up, then winced at the sudden tilt of the room. She tried to smile at the young man, who looked young enough to be in high school. "Yeah..," she said, shaking her head, "yeah, I'm good."

"Okayyy," he said, unconvinced. "Are you.. ready for your check, ma'am?"

"No thanks, my boyfriend already handled it," Lizzy smiled, her eyes on Fitzwilliam as he walked to the booth.

The young waiter nodded, and left them alone as Fitzwilliam slid into his seat.

"...what?" Lizzy asked, her mouth halfway to a bite of pizza when she noticed Fitzwilliam staring at her.

"What did you just say?" Fitzwilliam asked. His voice had a strange, soft and disbelieving quality to it, that Lizzy couldn't place.

"Uuummm..," she said, "I told him thaaaatt.. he didn't need to give us the check, because my PRESUMPTUOUS ASS of a boyfriend decided to be a sweetheart and pay for dinner WITHOUT ASKING ME."

"Boyfriend," Fitzwilliam echoed.

"That's the word you picked up on?" Lizzy arched an eyebrow, amused.

Fitzwilliam didn't tease her back. Instead, he just took her hand across the table, gently, and watched her with a sideways grin.

"I'm.. your boyfriend."

"Yes," Lizzy smiled, then hesitated. "I mean.. if you want to be."

"If I want t—," Fitzwilliam spluttered incredulously before cutting himself off. "Yes. YES. A million, hundred, thousand times, yes. Boyfriend. Yes. Wow."

"Okay, if I didn't think I was getting sick, I would 100% kiss you right now just to shut you up."

"Flirt," he grinned.

"Prude," Lizzy shot back happily, with an air kiss.

Fitzwilliam laughed, gripped her hand tighter, and pulled Lizzy to her feet. "C'mon," he said, pressing a chaste kiss to her hair as she leaned sleepily into him, "let's go back to my place."

"To YOUR place!" Lizzy squawked (though she did not move away, in the slightest, from her new home under his arm). "My, my! COCKY Aren't we?"

Fitzwilliam blushed (which was adorable) but just shook his head at her. "Get your mind out of the gutter, beautiful," he grinned, before the look faded. "I just.. I wanna make sure you're okay. Okay?"

Lizzy nudged him slightly. "Hey. That's.. very, very sweet of you. But I think I just need to get home and rest."

At Fitzwilliam's almost hurt look, she squeezed his hand in reassurance, and smiled. "You'd distract me too much to get ANY rest. And believe me— that's a good thing."

"Alright," he finally relented, after a few seconds of heartfelt brooding, "but you HAVE to call me in the morning. Soon as you get up. I wanna know if this is just," (he made mocking air quotes) "ALLERGIES, or not."

"You, mister, have got yourself a deal."

"Good." Fitzwilliam ducked his head. "I worry about you."

They made their way back to the car, and settled in for a long drive of goofy smiles, sneezing attacks, and stargazing. All in all, it was a great end to their date.

Except, of course, for the fact it had to end.

"Dammit," Lizzy swore to herself. The bedsheets were all knotted together, and she didn't have the energy to unwind them. Every move of her muscles felt like she was discovering a new ache or pain.

She fell out of bed trying to get to her phone. She didn't have the strength to get back up, so she just dialed Fitzwilliam from there. It was just after 6:30 in the morning,

"Heyyy," she said to the answering machine. Then she cleared her throat roughly. Ew. She sounded like a zombie. "Hi, it's um, Lizzy. Yup. Just… checkin' in, like you asked me to… uhhhh… Analysis? I feel like shit. Like, actual shit. I can't get up off the ground and everything hurts. Fun times."

She coughed, and held the phone away from her so that Fitzwilliam didn't have to hear that.

"Anyway, yeah, last night was pretty perfect, but I'm kinda glad I got to turn in early. I… ughhh. Not good. Pr'bly won't come into work today." She rasped a laugh. "By the way, if my 'allergies' get any worse, I want to have oregano and lilies at my funeral."

After that, she hung up the phone, and passed out without another thought. A few minutes later, it rang. Lizzy didn't answer it. It rang again. A few messages buzzed to life on the screen. Then another call.

As Lizzy Bennet slept on the floor of her apartment, sick and exhausted, not too far away, a very determined newly-dubbed 'boyfriend' was leaving tire tracks on his driveway, racing to come get her.