NOTES: Lizzy's POV. All fluff and cuteness :) next few will be similarly cute 💕 also, sorry I didn't post earlier! I had minor (but annoying) problems with my keyboard; hopefully they'll be fixed soon tho. Love y'all 🌺 ~Vinny

Lizzy Bennet wasn't sure how the egg got on the floor. It just sort of happened.

It sizzled on the floor, the fried white part trailing behind the yolk like a bridal gown. She stared at it. It stared back. One of the miniscule bubbles near the outer edge popped, and Lizzy jumped nearly out of her skin.

She scooped up the egg with her bare fingers (not thinking until afterwards how hot a fried egg would be) and plopped it back onto the plate.

It hadn't been on the floor very long, she reasoned. It would still be tasty!

...she hoped.

There were already three other eggs on the plate; two were scrambled, and the other was also fried, but looked slightly less bedraggled than she had dropped. Or maybe thrown. She couldn't remember.

Lizzy grabbed the other plate, the one with waffles and some fruit scattered about, and headed off to the bedroom.

She couldn't deny there was a bit of sway in her hips when she entered the door. It was just something that happened, when your boyfriend tells you he loves you, then spends the whole day making love to you.

Unfortunately though, her performance did not get a standing ovation as she sashayed into the room. Her one audience member groaned. Any indignance Lizzy might have felt at this lack of 'oh wow Lizzy you're so gorgeous and desirable and you made me breakfast— yes I will most certainly kiss the cook!' vanished amidst her concern.

"Hey, you okay?"

Fitzwilliam sat up, and put a hand to one eye socket, grimacing. "What? Oh, yes. Sorry." He smiled at her, but Lizzy could see the tension between his eyebrows. "Just a headache."

She sat down on the bed, put the plates down, and lifted a hand to his forehead. "Uh oh," she said, taking her hand away.

"Uh oh what? Uh oh, like, bad?"

"Uh oh, meaning I think you caught my cold," Lizzy said, frowning. Then she halfway smiled. "But mine went away after a day, so yours might be gone that quick too, if you're lucky."

Fitzwilliam pressed both heels of his hands against his eyes. "Nooooononoooo," he murmured, "I can't miss another day in a row. What will the board think?"

"Hmmmm…," Lizzy hummed plaintively, picking up a blueberry from the plate and swaddling it in syrup. "That.. you're busy, ravishing your lovely girlfriend?"

Fitzwilliam's hands came away from his eyes for just a moment. "Mm. You make skipping work sound like a good thing."

Lizzy touched his lips smilingly, and then popped the blueberry into his mouth. "Isn't it?" she asked, feeling cheeky.

He sat up, licking his lips with that devilishly happy grin she loved. "Yes it I—" Before Fitzwilliam could even finish making his way upwards to kiss her, he was attacked by a coughing fit.

Lizzy rubbed his back soothingly as he coughed and convulsed into his fist.

"You are sick," she said, in a no-nonsense voice, after he recovered, "and you are not going into work today. You're staying home, and getting better."

"Yes ma'am," Fitzwilliam grinned, his voice dropping to a growl on the last word.

Lizzy laughed, and kissed his cheek. "I'll call Violette and tell her that I infected you. She'll understand."

"You're… staying here?" He asked, slowly— as if he had thought Lizzy was going to leave the man she loved all alone with her illness and let him just rot away in bed are yOU KIDDING ME?!

She told this to him. He just laughed. "I should have known better," Fitzwilliam teased, picking at a waffle but only looking at her.

"Yes, you should have," she said, puffing herself up with a smile.

Fitzwilliam took a bite of the waffle, then groaned. "Urghh… all the board members are going to know. Also, this waffle is really good, thank you."

"My pleasure," Lizzy said absently, "Now what's this about them knowing?"

"They.. they're going to TALK. And people are going to.. insinuate that… my cold isn't why I'm reluctant to leave this bed."

"Ohhhh," she nodded, "Well, how about I write emails for you? Like, you're too sick to even get out of bed and call them— and BONUS! That means they'll probably leave us alone." At Fitzwilliam's disgruntled and hesitant look, Lizzy leaned in and brushed her nose up against that soft spot right below his ear.

"Aaand... if any of those board members try and insinuate that you're not really sick, I'll pour hot dog water into the coffee. Then light their house on fire. Got that, cupcake?"

Fitzwilliam barked a laugh that echoed through her ribcage and across the walls. "What?! I mean, yes, sounds like a plan, but CUPCAKE! Really?"

"Hey, I don't make the rules, I just play the game," she shrugged, tossing her hair.

He smirked, and pulled Lizzy down to his chest. Then, reaching across her (with his freakishly long muscular arms), Fitzwilliam grabbed his phone.

"Hm? Whatcha doin'?"

"I wanna take a picture of us," he grinned, "I want to remember this morning."

Well, Lizzy couldn't really say no to that. She snuggled up into the spot above Fitzwilliam's shoulder, and admired the way his hair curled around the base of his neck, wild and soft and reflecting the shadow of his neck.

She glanced up at his phone screen, just in time to see him swipe away an incoming text from Fitzgerald Williams that read 'You have any b-day plans yet, big boy? :D'

Lizzy sat up, and looked hard at Fitzwilliam. "Is… today your birthday?"

"...no..?" He answered, raising one eyebrow.

"Oh." Lizzy settled back against his chest. "Then why did Blondie text you about birthday plans?"

"You saw that?" She nodded. He sighed. "...Williams was asking if I had any plans yet, for my birthday."

"Oooh, is it coming up?"

"Sorta, yeah. 'S on the twelfth."

Lizzy's eyes opened much wider than they normally did as she stared at her boyfriend, who looked back at her, vaguely amused and slightly unnerved.

"...What?"

Lizzy's jaw fell open. "Y.. your birthday is in NINE DAYS?!"

Fitzwilliam's other eyebrow lifted to meet its brother. "...yes," he said slowly, "and.. I don't really know why you're making that face."

"Oh. Oh, sorry." Lizzy fixed herself into a less cartoonish stare and settled back down. "I'm just surprised, is all."

"So I could tell." She could just hear the smirk in his voice. She smiled at him, love seeping like sun soaked warmth through her features.

There was the click of a camera above them. Lizzy looked up in time to see Fitzwilliam putting his phone down and returning his arm to its rightful place— wrapping around her waist, holding her tight.

"So," she said, trying to make conversation. "Are you doing anything for your birthday?"

His shoulders tensed in what may have been a shrug. "There's a gala at the Studios that they're throwing— supposedly in my honor, I really don't want to go. I don't like that type of party."

"You don't strike me as the kind of guy who likes any parties," Lizzy giggled.

Fitzwilliam smiled at her, and she didn't see just how much adoration was in his eyes that she understood him so well.

"But if you want," she said, obliviously, "I could go with you. Y'know. Make it a bit more bearable?"

Fitzwilliam drew a breath in through his teeth, ready to say no, but then… He realized... he would love to have her there. With him. On his arm, showing her off.

"I think that would be splendid," he said, smiling.

"Great," Lizzy replied. She threw him a smile and grabbed a waffle.

She nearly spit it out laughing when, not five seconds later, there pleasantly domestic silence was broken when Fitzwilliam innocently remarked, "Hey, this egg tastes sorta funny."