Succexiest asked: Caroline x Darcy
When Bing talks about love (and he talks about it a lot) he makes it seem so uncomplicated. Bing falls in love the way people do in Disney movies; it's pure, fast, joyful, simple. Caroline's seen him repeat the pattern a dozen times.
Caroline is different. Relationships are easy enough to find, but her emotional attachments are sporadic, intense, lingering. It happens to her with Darcy. She keeps her feelings concealed behind a pretense of bored composure.
She kisses him to assess the possibilities, though, just the one time. Just once.
They're at yet another unremarkable soiree, hiding in their usual corner. Caroline amuses herself by playing with the garnish in her martini and making uncharitable remarks about the other guests. Darcy is too principled to reply in kind, but she's familiar with every twitch of his lips. He's amused, too.
It's easy, radiant with success and gin, to reach up and taste his mouth with hers.
He doesn't respond. He is entirely, horribly still. She knows Darcy too well; she knows he has passion and strength of feeling underneath it all, and she wants to pound his chest, rip into him, force him to reveal that side to her. But his lips remain rigid, and frankly the most humiliating part of it all is that she'd mumbled "Will".
They never talk about it. Darcy because he's Darcy. Caroline because she remembers reading somewhere about principles of negotiation—that the person who names his or her price first gives up substantial leverage. She supposes feelings work the same way. Or they should.
It's a slap in the face with a frozen glove when she watches him declare his love for Lizzie Bennet.