NOTES: I'm not sure who's POV this chapter is tbh, I kind of wrote it strangely. It is very fluffy and cute tho, and more of that's coming. There is SOME conflict coming up, but its just rising to get to the climax.

Yeah I'm going full sickfic on y'all, don't judge me ❤️

Anyway, I'll try and post again soon as I can! Leave a comment if you have any suggestions! ~Vinny

If there was one thing Violette Lucas (or really any other underpaid barista) did not expect to come barging in haggard and shouting on a weekday morning… It was a robotic chicken wearing a cowboy hat.

If there was a second thing she didn't expect, it was Fitzwilliam Darcy.

The latter was the one that actually happened. I know, not quite as surprising, but it still made Violette spit out her coffee when the door banged open.

"WHERE IS SHE," the man gasped, breathless and frantic.

Violette coughed out some whipped cream that had gone down the wrong pipe, and took a second to appraise her unexpected guest before answering. Fitzwilliam was wearing a suit and tie, but it looked like he had just thrown it on. He hadn't shaved, and his hair was a mess. He had the look of a man who just made it out of a natural disaster.

"Um," Violette swallowed, "What?"

"Lizzy," Fitzwilliam said, already moving around the cafe (as if his girlfriend was hiding somewhere under a stool), "Where is she?"

"Uhhh, she texted me last night, and said she wasn't feeling well..? That's really all I know, dude."

Fitzwilliam visibly grit his teeth at being called 'dude,' but he focused on the main problem at hand. "Well, can you please tell me her address? She's very unwell, and I'm worried about her, and I think she might be more sick than she's letting on because she mentioned funerals and almost all my family is dead and I don't want to lose her too so please dear god tell me where she is so I can help her and— "

"JESUS OKAY," Violette yelped. The look in the taciturn man's eyes wasn't scaring her, really, but the panic in his voice was rising with every word, making her nervous as well. She rummaged through her purse, and tossed him a spare key. "Here."

Fitzwilliam caught it with both hands. "Thank you so much," he breathed, smiling in a relieved way.

Violette grinned hesitantly back at him, raising her eyebrows. "You know, Lizzy's probably fine… right?"

He chuckled (hysterically). "Rationally, I know that, but I still worry."

Violette tapped the counter with her fist absentmindedly. She smiled. "Lizzy's lucky to have ya."

"Thanks." Fitzwilliam paused, fidgeting with the key. "Um, the address?"

"Oh, right!"

Violette scribbled down Lizzy's apartment name and address, and handed the slip of paper to Fitzwilliam. "Good luck," she said, as he was already on his way out. "Call me if it's really bad!"

"I will," he promised without thinking. Then he was gone, racing off again.

Violette just shook her head, pressed a hand to her chest, and laughed silently. God, there was her daily dose of heart attack. She wondered though, once she had calmed down, if Ricky Collins would ever be as devoted and sweet and nervous as Fitzwillaim was to Lizzy. She wondered what he really meant to her.

Meanwhile a few blocks away, Fitzwilliam Darcy was mounting apartment steps three at a time to reach the correct floor. He found door 23, and knocked twice. Impatiently, before there was any answer, he opened it.

Inside, Darcy could a cramped space with mismatched carpets and paper cranes hanging from the ceiling. The close quarters gave the impression of closing in on you, especially with all the bookshelves that crowded around like tourists in a flash mob. There was a small kitchen area with a microwave, a smallish TV (with stacks of old Disney DVDs cluttered around it), and two adjacent doors— one of which was open.

A grumbling, mumbling noise came from the open one. Darcy walked cautiously in, suddenly conscious that he had NOT been invited.

But when he found Lizzy on the floor, tangled up in her sheets and miserable looking, he forgot about all his Ps and Qs.

"Lizzy! Lizzy, ohmygod, are you alright?!"

Slowly, she opened her eyes and peered up at him through her lashes. "He..hello."

Darcy knelt down beside her, and tried to coax her into a sitting position. As she breathily stared at him, Darcy began to ramble, avoid eye contact as he checked her for bruises.

"Well, you see, I got your voicemail, and, well, I was worried. I know that you're probably fine, I'm probably overreacting, but I've lost a lot of people close to me for various reasons and I care about you a lot and if something happened to you I'd never forgive myself. I just…," he stopped, rested his forehead against hers, and just breathed. "I needed to make sure you were okay."

"Awwwww," Lizzy said in a raspy voice, "that's very sweet. And.. very, very unnecessary. I'm fine! I'm perfectly— "

Darcy moved away from her, no longer supporting her body weight. Lizzy flopped to the floor like a rag doll. He quirked an eyebrow at her. She blew a hair from her face.

"...point taken."

"Do you get sick a lot?" Darcy asked, feeling her forehead and frowning.

"No, not really," Lizzy said, before coughing into her elbow. "I dunno where this came from. 'S probably just a cold though. Don't worry too much."

"Oh I'm gonna worry," he said, flashing her a quick grin, "but it's up to you whether or not it's too much."

Lizzy mumbled a happy noise in the back of her throat, and felt very articulate. Darcy sat for a moment, and considered first the room then looked out to the doorway.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No, not yet," Lizzy shrugged minutely. "Not very hungry yet."

"Well, I can make you waffles when we get back. Oh! And we can pick up some cold medicine on the way; couldn't hurt."

"I'm sorry," she laughed, "On our way to.. where? Already have a plan in motion, Mr Darcy?"

He reddened. Then smiled, and relaxed. "Yes," he said confidently, his shoulders back. "We're going back to my house, because there it will be easier for me to look after you."

Lizzy arched one eyebrow. "And I need 'looking after,' do you think?"

"Lizzy." He looked at her sternly. "You can barely sit up on your own. You probably have a mild fever; your forehead is overheated and you keep coughing. I'll sleep a lot easier at night (figuratively) if I know you're okay."

"But what about work?" She pointed out, obstinately, "Aren't you supposed to be a big fancy CEO?"

"My company can survive with me calling into meetings from home today," Darcy dismissed with a smile.

Lizzy mock-gasped, grinning at him with a shocked expression. "Mr DARCY!" She cried, fighting off a cough for the sake of the joke. "I had no idea you were such a BAD BOY!"

He winked, and flipped up his collar. "There's a lot you don't know about me, baby," he said in a deeper voice.

Lizzy let out her best congested laugh, and smiled at her boyfriend adoringly. "Y'know, if I wasn't sick, I would kiss you so good right now," she mentioned, conversationally.

Darcy leaned in, gently holding her chin, and kissed her slowly. "I'm not scared of getting sick," he whispered against her.

"Mmm," Lizzy murmured, happily melting into him.

But he had already pulled away, and was now grinning at her, clearly proud of himself. "Don't you know I'm not scared of anything? I'm a BAD BOY after all!"

Lizzy laughed, and pulled him back into another kiss. "My sweet boy. My sweet, adorable, presumptuous man."

Darcy relished the moment for a while, just allowing himself to enjoy it. Lizzy didn't taste like anything but mint and peach and an aroma that was uniquely her. Uniquely Lizzy. He kissed her for he-didn't-know-how-long, and then hauled her to her feet.

"C'mon," he said, supporting her with one arm, "Let's get you fed and back home."

"To your home," she corrected.

He didn't bother to amend his statement. She happily didn't mention it again.

Lizzy yawned and ended it with laughter as they stumbled out of the door. "Am I supposed to just sleep all day? Just hang out with you and do nothing?"

"And get well," he reminded her, gently shaking her awake so they could go down the stairs. "Don't forget that."

Lizzy sneezed, then chuckled. "Y'know, just spending the day with my favorite person doesn't sound so bad."

Darcy smiled softly, nestling his nose into her messy cinnamon hair to breathe in the scent of her. "Glad to hear it," he murmured thickly.

Oh yes, today wasn't going to be so bad. Not in the least.