Author's Note: Hi, if you're reading this story...thank you! If you are a returning reader/have got a story alert on this (and actually remembered what the hell this is or decided to refresh your memory and read it again)...I bow down to your awesome patience. Thank you soooo much to everyone who reviewed, favourite and alerted this story – hope you all enjoyed your cupcakes ^o^

Absolutely epic fail on my part for the shitty updating schedule...or complete lack of it as the case may be; all I can offer in terms of excuses is that university and four jobs on the side is not easy, so I am very sorry for the wait – I hope you haven't all deserted me! I PROMISE that if I start a story that means I intend to finish it, mainly because I'll be completely irritated with myself until I do.

I write for me but I post for you, so sending me love makes me bounce around the room like a fangirl on sugar hehe.

Anyhoo...onwards!

Chapter Two: I Don't Feel Like Dancing

Will Darcy, owner of Darcy International, slumped forwards onto his desk before proceeding to bang his head on it. Hard. Several times.

Today had not been good.

Meetings with clients had taken up most of his available time. And honestly, some of these people were idiots. Idiots with way too much money and heads full of their own importance. It almost made his ears bleed having to listen to their feeble concept of the law and how it should automatically be changed to suit their needs. Gah!

The rest of the day had been spent with the board in a meeting so dull Will had briefly considered throwing himself out of his office window. Until he realised that Charlie was too nice to run the company effectively and would lose all his money and would probably starve as a result, that Mrs Reynolds would miss him, and his sister...his sister would have lost her only remaining family and best friend – a point which sobered him up immediately and prompted him to 'throw' himself, if not whole-heartedly, at least rigorously into a debate about company policy.

Will was mid-way through his self-inflicted punishment when he was interrupted by the sound of the door to his overly fashionable office being opened. He looked up to watch as the messy head of blonde curls that belonged to his best friend and partner popped through the open door, closely followed by the rest of Charles Bingley. Quietly closing the door behind him, Charlie stopped dead in front of his friend's desk.

"Hey, cheer up Will, you should be happy – Old Man Biggle has been badgering us about the updated dress codes for months! Now he's finally off our backs." Charlie cocked his blonde head to the side as the defeated face of his partner looked up at him.

Will looked exhausted which, as Charles thought, was nothing new – ever since he took control, properly took control of the company, he had been slowly wearing himself into the ground in order to restore the firm to its former glory.

However, defeat was a new emotion.

Will had always been passionate about the Law and rebuilding his father's company, but never had Charles seen his friend look so worn down in all the time he had known him. He found it rather unnerving – William Darcy was one of those people Charles' mother would lovingly refer to as 'one hell of a tough cookie', complete with cheek-pinch and all.

Straightening himself out, Will rolled his shoulders to loosen the sore muscles. Aware that his best friend was still staring at him with a such a look of concern as to make any number of mother hens proud, he plastered a smile on his somewhat temporarily unwilling face, before gesturing to the comfy chairs positioned in front of the desk that separated him from the door leading to freedom.

Charlie moved, although still slightly hesitantly, to sit down across from Will; continuing to gaze at him intently, as though waiting for some massive outburst from his partner.

"Charlie, be a dear and stop looking at me as if you're considering whether to put me on some sort of suicide watch," Will chirped cheerfully. Looking him in the eye Charlie snorted before rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I'm fine! We've been over this – I'm just tired right now, and having to deal with Biggle and the Board of Buffoons does not help matters. God, I can't wait for the day that they retire. You know, they are really dampening any chance we have of revitalizing this place by being so stuffy and boring." He slouched down into his chair and began picking at a loose thread on his cuff in frustration.

"If it makes you feel any better;" Charlie added hopefully, "Biggle and the rest will probably be dead soon anyway." Darcy snorted in amusement and quirked a brow at Charles.

Taking this as an opportunity to bring his friend out of the funk currently surrounding him, Charlie was quick to deliver the logic behind his outburst.

"No, really, just think about it! The old guy is refusing to budge from his position and he's been here since your Dad set this whole shbang up, and we know he's past the age of retirement because we both get the reminder every year from personnel; so, logically speaking, he must be about 70ish. And I'm pretty certain I once overheard him talking to the little fat, round one that sits at the end and nods at every word that comes out of your mouth, y'know...the one that actually clapped last week...what'shisname...Dunn! Yeah, Robert Dunn! Anyway, I am almost one hundred per cent certain that I heard them talking, and Biggle mentioned that he had a dickey heart. So if you really, honestly think about it...it shouldn't take a lot to make him pop his clogs! Not that I'm suggesting we try, just that it would probably be bad if someone were to sneak up to him and shout 'Boo' or something. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to kill the guy...but maybe if we have someone give him a start or something he'll decide he's safer off at home and leave us in peace."

By the end of the explanation Charlie was looking thoughtful, and Darcy was laughing hard at an image of them dressed as ninjas and creeping up behind the old twit and giving him a fright on his way to the Boardroom.

Finding that they were both considering this too much to be completely healthy, the friends shook themselves out of their surprisingly uplifting daydreams of sabotage and cleared their throats.

"Anyway..." Charlie began, "I was just popping in to see if you remembered the Ball tonight? We did promise my Mother, apparently it's very important that we surface in society every once in a while, if only to dispel the rumours; she was quite offended last week when an old biddy from the club asked if I was in prison like 'that awful Lohan girl'. Personally, I like to make them wait for a bit – means you can get a bit more creative when explaining you're absence. I haven't used anything involving a shipwreck in a while, maybe..."

"Sorry to interrupt your plans to put your dear old Mum in an early grave, but I really don't think tonight is a great idea. I've got so much work to finish here; even more now, thanks to that stupid footballing prat! I think I should probably give this one a miss tonight ok?" Will looked beseechingly into Charlie's eyes as his friend scrutinized him from across the desk.

"Nope, sorry mate, but if I have to endure an evening full of women trying to palm their stuffy daughters off on me – then I'm bringing you down with me! You missed the last evening, and the one before – you owe me remember? Fancy leaving your best friend to be almost kidnapped by the resident Crazy Lady? Shame on you Darcy!"

Will chuckled, "As I distinctly remember Charles, you made no effort to extricate yourself from a potential night of nookie with a complete stranger until you realised that she was likely to tie you to the bed until you agreed to marry her; by which time, if you'll remember, you had already left me alone at the party to be handed round your Mother's group of friends like the latest Prada handbag."

"Ah, yes, forgot about that part...sorry again mate. My bad?" said Charlie, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly. Will snorted and rolled his eyes as a slightly pink hue spread over Charles' cheeks. "Hmm, anyway, will you come...please, please, please, pleaaase?" Charlie begged, clasping his hands together and batting his blonde eyelashes in his best puppy dog eyes.

Letting out a long sigh Will sagged into his chair, his eyes roving over his friend. He supposed he really should go; Charlie was right, they hadn't made an appearance in weeks and the company did gather a lot of business from the club – those old cronies were always suing someone. Gah! Club parties were always such a bore, there was never anyone interesting to talk to and the old friends of his parents only wanted to discuss the business and give him their 'advice' on being successful.

"Fine! I'll go, but..."

"Yes!" Charlie shouted, leaning back and punching his fist in the air.

"Oi, listen, I have some conditions for tonight – or I'll leave your sorry arse with the first available gold digger I find. Alright?" Will smirked as Charlie's celebrations ceased and he once again sat up to adopt what William called his 'negotiation face'. "Ok, first off – I'm not dancing tonight, no, not with anyone I mean it this time!" he said firmly as Charlie made to interrupt. "Secondly, I get to leave when I want too..."

"Oh now wait a minute, I won't force you to stay because I know how much you hate these nights – but can you promise me you'll stay for an hour at least? Mother will be so upset if you disappear too quickly."

Darcy let out a low growl and rubbed his tired eyes with the palm of a hand, "Fine, ok, whatever...but I reserve the right to leave whenever I want after that ."

"Sure," said Charlie, grinning broadly because he knew that (as a good guy) Will would find it impossible to leave the party once he arrived and saw how happy it made Mrs Bingley. 'It's his only flaw', thought his best friend, 'and if that's the extent of his flaws then he is a much better man than the rest of us'.

Rising from his chair, Charles stretched before moving towards the door of the office.

"Ok, I'll pick you up tonight – Mother has insisted that Caroline and I get a town car to the party. Of course, Caroline was all for a limousine but you know I can't stand those things. And don't worry, if you do decide to leave early, the driver can drop you off at home then come back to pick us up." Opening the door, Charlie slipped through only to double back for a second to add, "Oh, and Will, wear something extra nice, I think some of the women at the club have alerted the press about tonight's shin-dig. See you later!"

As the heavy door clicked shut, William groaned and slumped forwards on to his desk. If there was anything he hated more than parties and dressing up, it was the press. Coming from an influential and wealthy family had resulted in Will growing up under the near constant supervision of a gaggle of paparazzi. Thus, reporters in his mind were bugs that should be stomped on then squished into the dirt to make sure. Those fuckers were tough, have to be certain they're dead.

Sighing heavily, Will turned back to the huge mountain of work; if he was going out tonight he better get a move on with this – the last thing he needed was this pile to cause a small avalanche in the middle of his office.

Death by paperwork...literally.

Not appealing in the slightest.

AN: Ok, so it's a little shorter than the first but I was guessing that any readers I have left would rather have slightly smaller chapters, more regularly rather than one huge chapter every two years...ehem :/ sorry again!

Please review (even if it's just to tell me I need to update more...).

Toodles!