Author's Note: Hello, all! I'm splitting this chapter in two to give you some newness to chew on until life calms down for me just a bit. I have a break from school the first week of October that I'll be using to catch up on this story. If the second half of this doesn't hit ff . net by Halloween, it'll be early November. Thanks for being so understanding and supportive of this story – I wouldn't have made it this far if it weren't for you guys.

The Church of Hot Addiction

(month three cont'd)

"Good morning, Sarah!"

It was the sound of his chipper voice on the other end of the line that had done her in completely. Sarah had come to expect certain constants from Mr. Darcy in the nine months she'd spent in his employment and chipper was nowhere near the vicinity – chipper, as a matter of fact, was more like in Yemen.

It was the melancholy and infinite sadness of Fitzwilliam Marcus Darcy that admittedly made her feel loads better about her life in those moments when she found herself alone and prone to irritating meditations on her existence. If her sister was being a know-it-all pain in the ass, or if her mother was yet again speechifying on why her current loser boyfriend was in fact, a loser, it was okay. At least she was nowhere near as broken and beaten as Mr. Darcy, and that was something.

Then the great disaster with Danny Wickham happened. Just when Sarah thought she couldn't hit a bottom so low that eating her feelings wouldn't even be an option anymore, Mr. Darcy was suddenly happy?! Stupidly happy?!

Habit dictated that the man should walk into the room, trudge past her desk with a scowl and the very essence of "I'd rather be dipped in acid" wafting off his person. So, it was a shock of epic, heart attack proportions when he began greeting her and striking up chats. He smiled for Christ's sake, and didn't order her to hold all of his calls.

It was as depressing as it was bizarre.

Here was Darcy, her barometer for "well, thank Jesus it doesn't suck that bad", practically bouncing off the walls, and she wanted to be happy for him. Desperately, so; but she was still silly enough to call Danny every other day with the hopes he'd pick up and when she wasn't, she was busy making herself sick over all of the information on Mr. Darcy she'd dropped. Seeing her boss so blissful put a big, ole' halt on her plan to come clean to him – yeah, she didn't want to risk her job, but the thought of harshing Darcy's buzz was almost too painful to bear.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," Sarah replied as cheerily as she could muster.

Mr. Darcy was taking the day off and told her to do the same (despite the multitude of things she needed to schedule and pick up for him), and as Sarah hung up the phone to begin packing up her belongings, the decision to hold her tongue on the subject of Mr. Wickham was firm.

Darcy tucked the cell phone into his pocket and turned his attention back to the very scene that had inspired his decision to call out of work that day. Lizzie was currently busting a move in their kitchen; earbuds shoved in securely and the volume on maximum, she had absolutely no idea her dance routine had an audience…that is until she turned around to grab a cereal bowl from the cabinet.

"Holy shit!" Lizzie screeched and practically jumped ten feet in the air. Darcy was doubled over with laughter by the time she finally got her bearings, and she yanked the buds out of her ears. "You need a collar with a bell on it," she said frowning.

"Aw," he began, his laughter subsiding, "you still wouldn't have heard me."

"So embarrassing…" Lizzie muttered as she headed for the cabinet, "I thought you'd left for work."

"I took the day off." he grinned.

"Oh, wonderful," was her sarcastic reply and Darcy chuckled, "You'll live down the fact that you like Cobra Starship one day. I'm sure of it."

Glancing over her shoulder, Lizzie quirked a brow, "You should not know that band."

"I have a seventeen year old, hipster sister."

"…Who you barely see because she lives on the other side of the country," she snorted, "nice try."

"I…liked Snakes on a Plane," he offered and Lizzie laughed. "I am allowed at least one guilty pleasure – tell Richard and I'll kill you."

She nodded. "Your secret's safe with me."

Darcy hung back against the kitchen entrance, arms casually folded and gaze decidedly fixed on Lizzie as she poured out a bowl of Lucky Charms for herself. Sensing she was being stared at, she faced him. "What are you doing?"

The smile that snaked its way onto his lips was quite lascivious. "Waiting on you to get over here."

Blushing furiously, Lizzie made her way over to him – dry cereal in hand. "You've seriously got to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" His was now the picture of innocence.

"I've found that most men," she popped a marshmallow into her mouth, "use all of their smooth moves with a girl from the beginning. When you go from being awkward to smooth, it's super disconcerting."

Darcy shrugged. "I'm not like most men."

"I'm realizing this." Lizzie smiled and tapped her lips with her forefinger. "I believe you owe me one for that little display earlier; there's no way that wasn't adorable."

Laughing, he straightened himself up and looked her directly in the eye. "When you least expect it – all day I owe you."

In her experience with men (see: Archie the Thief, Danny the Meth lab Technician, and Nate the Drummer), Lizzie had never come across someone who had the ability to send her from one extreme to the other with seemingly no middle ground. Now that Darcy wasn't specializing in new and interesting ways to piss her off, it appeared as though he were aiming to get her heart to pound so hard it broke through her chest. Lizzie was suddenly all palpitations and sweaty palms; if she had a seventh period to attend, 'Mrs. Elizabeth Michelle Darcy' would have been doodled in every margin of every notebook she owned.

Disconcerting was most definitely the right word.

She held his gaze and exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Very, smooth."

Grinning, Darcy followed her out of the kitchen. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me for the rest of the day," he told her, flopping down on the couch. "So, Lizzie, what is it that you do while I'm gone?"

Shoveling a handful of cereal in her mouth, she said, "For starters I'm going to have to cancel the party."

"Ha, ha," Darcy rolled his eyes. With a sideways look he added, "Do you want some milk for that?"

"Oh, god no." Lizzie shook her head. "Milk and I have become mortal enemies as of late; this is better, no gross consequences."

He pulled a face. "I…kinda hate that I asked."

Having commandeered the television remote, Lizzie furiously flipped through the channels until she landed on Nickelodeon and without a word she kicked back against a very confused Darcy.

"You…" he started hesitantly and scratched his head, "watch Dora the Explorer while I'm gone?"

"Only for the past couple days," she plainly stated.

"Sorry," he snickered, "I thought it was your twenty-seconded and not your second birthday coming up."

"Hey, our child is going to be eating this stuff up which means while you're off being a figurehead, I'm going to be stuck with creepy puppets and cartoons all day. I've gotta know what I'm up against."

"You're conditioning?" he asked, clearly amused.

"Darcy, I've reached the point to where I can't see my feet," Lizzie sighed, "it's time for a little preparedness."

"Preparedness? You sound like Smokey the Bear."

"Oh, you have no idea!" she said enthusiastically. "I've been thinking about diaper genies and buggy bouncers, and crib mobiles that light up and play music versus those that don't, adding an intercom to the baby's room, possible themes for the baby's room, whether or not we should go ahead and get those little plastic outlet cover thingies or wait until the actual crawling – threat of electrocution stage…"

He listened intently to Lizzie's giddy ramble finding it all absolutely amazing. It wasn't so long ago that the mere mention of the word 'baby' sent her scrambling in the other direction; sure they had had conversations, but those were few and far in between, and despite the now basketball size of her stomach, Lizzie seemed content with ignoring the existence of the very thing that had brought them together. Now she was talking excitedly about onesies and he had to admit it was infectious.

"….These thoughts just came out of nowhere. Seriously, I woke up and it was like my entire brain had been consumed by 'baby'. I don't even know what a diaper genie is, but I think we need one."

Darcy pressed his nose to her hair. "I will fill this entire house with diaper genies if you want me to."

She giggled, "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"You wouldn't believe how often it works." Lips now hovering near Lizzie's ear, Darcy said, "You're going to have to think of something to do after Dora's rousing adventure is over. It's all up to you; I'm completely at your disposal, Elizabeth."

Lizzie nearly forgot how to swallow as his words and their many connotations rang throughout her head.

Disconcerting was the perfect way to describe it.