Title: Nice
Rating: T (PG-13) – sweeter than those sugarplums dancing through your head. This particular installment features a bit of language that Santa would frown upon and a tasteful fade to black.
Disclaimer: Though I write stories based on the novels and characters of Jane Austen, this work belongs to ME and no one else. Unless given express permission, no one besides myself has the right to distribute or profit from my intellectual property. All rights reserved.
Setting: Modern AU

Summary: The "nice" half of my "Naughty and Nice" anthology series. Unconnected OneShots with a sweet holiday theme, alternating between Regency and Modern AU. For ALL readers.

I don't want a lot for Christmas
This is all I'm asking for
I just wanna see my baby
Standing right outside my door

I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true

Baby all I want for Christmas is you

… … o0o … …

All I Want
2019

"Come on, Darce, come to the party with me. You might even have some fun – purely by accident, of course," Rick needled as he hovered by the door, keys jingling merrily in his hand as if the thought of going out were even slightly tempting to his cousin.

Darcy grunted at him from where he sat on his sectional couch wearing wrinkled three-day old pajamas and scanning through his options on Netflix. Too many dang Christmas specials. "Pass."

Rick was, obviously, not inclined to give up so quickly and tried another tactic. "There will be pretty girls and lots of mistletoe. Maybe you'll get lucky."

"Hard pass," Darcy grumbled, finally settling on old reruns of the X-Files. Aliens and freaks were decidedly un-Christmassy.

Rick walked over to stand in front of the TV just as the eerie, whistling music of the theme song began, arms folded across his chest and an implacable expression hard upon his generally friendly face. This, Darcy figured, was what his cadets must witness in basic training, but it was undermined by the knitted image of Baby Jesus in a carrier across his chest. "You can't stay in here moping forever, man. It's not healthy. And since when does Will Darcy let some girl – ?"

Darcy threw the remote at Rick like a petulant child and it bounced off the ugly Christmas sweater – Rick would surely get first place this year – and snapped, "She's not 'some girl.' I didn't pick her up at a bar for a one night stand, I lo – I cared about her. Still care about her. But it's not her fault that I'm in a funk anyway; that's all on me. I lost my chance with her because I was such a jerk that she hated me all along! It's kinda hard to get into the Christmas spirit when you know that you're going to be lonely and miserable all year long – if not the rest of your pathetic life – and that it's your own stupid fault. Go have fun at your party, I'm staying home to wallow."

"Why don't you call her? I'm sure she'll be willing to talk to you now that you've rescued her sister from that – " Darcy's eyes widened, equally appalled and impressed by the words he used to describe their former buddy, " – Wickham. She's probably grateful and that could work to your advantage."

"She doesn't know that I did that," replied Darcy, rather sullenly, "and I don't want her to know. What's the point if all she feels for me is pity?"

Rick rolled his eyes and huffed, clearly exasperated by Darcy's moody stubbornness. "The word I used was 'gratitude.'"

"Which, in this case, is synonymous with 'pity,'" Darcy sniped. "I don't want her to like me because she feels like she owes me something, all I want..."

"All you want for Christmas is her." Rick completed the unintended lyric with a lopsided grin and Darcy groaned aloud.

"Would you just go to your stupid party already?" Darcy pointed at the door to his apartment in a less than subtle bid to get Rick out. "Go get your mistletoe kiss and show off that horrible sweater; I'm fine here on my own."

Rick sighed, giving in. "Fine, but remember that even that curmudgeonly Scrooge got a happy ending. It could still happen for you."

"'Curmudgeonly'?"

"I read."

"Also, thanks for comparing me to Scrooge. That really helped my self-esteem."

"I do what I can."

"Go do what you can for someone else," Darcy insisted, shaking his finger at the door to the outside hall again and raising his eyebrows expectantly at his cousin. His mouth was straightened into an impatiently grim line, teeth clenched together so hard that his jaw was beginning to ache slightly.

Rick picked up his coat and slipped it on, readying himself to face the frosty elements outdoors. "Fine, I'll see you tomorrow at Aunt Cathy's. Don't think that your holiday blues will get you out of coming; she'll just show up here and badger you about family togetherness and set you up on a blind date with some debutante."

Darcy's face relaxed a little and his lips quirked upward in the first sign of humor he'd shown in days. "She'll do that anyway."

"True, but at least you can keep her at her house if you come for Christmas dinner. Otherwise, she might just move into Pemberley Towers with you," Rick countered with a shudder too dramatic to be authentic. The sentiment behind it, however, was genuine.

Darcy reciprocated with a shiver of his own and replied, "I'll be there."

"Good." Rick turned as if to leave. He paused at the end table next to the couch and picked up a fistful of multicolored envelopes, staring at the one on top with consternation. He squinted at it, drew it closer to his face, and then pulled back again with his face slackened in what appeared to be pleasant surprise. What? Did he expect that Darcy was such a schmuck that he wouldn't at least get Christmas cards? (Even if most of them were probably corporate.)

With what could only be described as a triumphant grin, Rick held out the stack of festive mail for Darcy to take. "Here, read your Christmas cards. They'll make you feel better and might even give you a bit of holiday cheer."

"Doubtful," Darcy replied, though he took the bundle anyway. Mostly just to get Rick to leave; it wasn't worth it to pick another battle which would prolong his stay.

"Anyway, I'm off," Rick said, striding away toward the exit. "Merry Christmas, Darce! Text me if I need to make any excuses to Lady Catty tomorrow."

So, suddenly he didn't think that their aunt would make a big deal out of Darcy skipping out on the annual Fitzwilliam family Christmas dinner? If it hadn't been before the party, Darcy would have thought his cousin had already been over indulging on the eggnog. "Okay...Bye. Have fun and don't do anything too stupid."

"I'll keep it at a moderate level of stupid. Night!"

When the door closed with a snap behind Rick, Darcy picked up his smart phone, pulled up the SmartLock app and secured it behind him. No more visitors tonight; it was Christmas Eve and, hopefully, everyone else had something better to do than interrupt his solitary sci-fi marathon.

Darcy was just about to lift his eyes to the screen where Mulder and Scully were debating the plausibility of the existence of extraterrestrials – again – when he remembered the fistful of Christmas cards in his hand. He huffed at them and stretched his arm out to deposit them back where Rick had found them on the end table, but stopped when the sample of handwriting on the front of the bright red one on top caught his notice. He drew his arm back toward himself, his heart suddenly beating out of rhythm, to examine it more closely.

Will Darcy
630 Pemberley Towers, Penthouse

There was his name and address in rounded, almost bubbly script. Up in the left hand corner, in the same writing…

Elizabeth Bennet
2324 Longbourn Way

Why would she send him a Christmas card? Didn't she still despise the sight of him? Sure, she had been polite enough the last time he'd seen her – in his fantasies, he'd imagined more than friendly courtesy – but it had been weeks since they had bumped into each other at that Halloween party. Was this an extension of that same politeness?

The other cards in his hand slipped free and fell to the couch as Darcy singled out the red envelope and tore into it. He distantly fretted that he might regret ripping the paper later as he might want to preserve it as a last token from his doomed romance, but in the moment his excitable fingers didn't have the patience or dexterity for delicacy. He pulled the card free of its crimson wrapping and stared at it.

The cover was simple and clearly handmade. There was a border of bright red ribbon printed upon it in marker and, dead in the center, a similarly rendered sprig of mistletoe full of berries. The potential implication of Lizzy sending him a kissing bough made Darcy blush, but he tempered his expectations; who would send a love note to a guy they had very clearly expressed disinclination for?

He opened the card, pinning it in that position with his trembling fingers. There was a single, tiny sprig of mistletoe at the top of a long paragraph of neat words, but no additional design; the script took up the rest of the space. It read:

Dear Will,

Merry Christmas. Maybe you don't want to hear from me at all, and I can understand that if it's true, but I had to thank you for what you did for my sister. Don't be too mad at my aunt – Lydia let slip that you were there at the airport and I couldn't rest until Maddie told me everything. I can't tell you how grateful I am for what you've done for our family; Lydia might be spoiled, selfish and ditzy, but she's my little sister and we all love her dearly. To think that we could have lost her...we owe you everything.

I know that you'll say it was nothing, that you don't want my gratitude, but I couldn't not say anything. I haven't told anyone else in my family since you obviously wish to remain anonymous, but I still wanted you to know that your efforts on our behalf are appreciated all the same.

Now that the above is out of the way, I want to get to the hard part – my apology. I should have told you this when we saw each other last, but I honestly couldn't find the words then to say it to your face. I was so embarrassed and you were so quiet that I just didn't know what to say or how to say it, not that I shouldn't have tried anyway. I'll start simply with – I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for calling you names – both to your face and behind your back – and for taking Greg's side over yours (and look how that turned out). I'm sorry that I was so sensitive about that stupid insult and let it color my opinion of you for so long. I'm sorry that I didn't even try to understand you.

The truth is, I had you completely wrong for all those months; you're not a cold jerk with more money than manners, you're a good guy. You're very kind and sweet and generous...so many different things that are admirable and wonderful and I just threw those awful lies in your face. I see now that I wasted a chance at happiness and I'm sorry for that, too, but that's my problem and not yours.

I guess I don't even know exactly what I'm saying anymore, so I'll end it here. Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Yours,

Lizzy

Darcy stared at the card, a swell of melancholy music tinkling from the television in the background, hardly understanding what he held in his hands. His eyes focused on the "Yours" just above her loopy signature and attempted to absorb its meaning. She…

...liked him?

Without even realizing that he'd moved, Darcy found himself launched from the couch and onto his feet. They began moving in the direction of the front door, his eyes still riveted to the feminine scrawl underneath that little flourish of mistletoe, and his free hand fumbled with the manual locking mechanism before he wrenched it open.

"Will! I was just about to ring your bell to see if you wanted to have a drink with – where are you going?"

Darcy pulled himself out of his daze enough to look up in bewilderment at Carrie Bingley, standing just across the hall from his present position at the threshold of his apartment and holding a bottle of wine by the neck in one hand. The elevator doors closed with a quiet whoosh behind her.

Carrie was dressed for going out with a champagne-colored mini dress peeking out from between the lapels of her festive green coat and balancing precariously on high, skinny heels. Her white blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek chignon and away from her expertly painted face. She was staring at him with charcoal-tinted eyes, her shiny pink lips tilted upwards at the corners in a coy smile.

Belatedly realizing that Carrie was waiting for him to say something, Darcy searched his preoccupied mind for an answer. Then, belatedly, he did his best to recall the question. "Oh, uh...out. See you later."

Darcy side-stepped Carrie to press the down button next to the elevator which, thanks to her intrusion, was on its way back down to the ground floor. Fantastic.

Carrie tittered in that silly, empty-headed way that was meant to be alluring but was really just irritating. Some guys – though he couldn't think of any specific examples – might find it attractive, but it made Darcy grind his teeth. "In your pajamas?"

Darcy looked down at himself to see a stained, long sleeved blue shirt and flannel sleeping pants. Beyond the hem of the latter, his bare toes peeked up at him from the rich natural hardwood of the corridor. It then occurred to him that, in addition to looking a hot mess, he hadn't showered since yesterday (or maybe the day before that).

"Shit," Darcy muttered, turning away from Carrie and the opening elevator to rush back inside his apartment. He absently pulled the front door closed behind him, but it didn't occur to him immediately that he hadn't actually heard the mechanism click.

On his way to the bedroom, Darcy reached behind him for the neck of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head before tossing it to the floor. It landed somewhere near his dresser as he crossed the threshold of the master suite and proceeded toward the connected bathroom where he intended to take the quickest shower ever just to get the lingering man stank off so that he could be back on his way to Lizzy's. He had to see her and it had to be before he lost his nerve.

As he paused just long enough to set the precious card she had sent him upon his end table, propped up with honor against his lamp, Darcy could picture her, sweet and soft, in his mind. Her cocoa-colored curls bouncing free around her shoulders, as wild and gorgeous as the rest of her. The rounded crests of her cheekbones, always raised and slightly pink with mirth as she playfully teased anyone lucky enough to be at the mercy of her wit. Those petal soft lips, red as cherries, that begged to be kissed whenever they twisted into an impish smile. And those evergreen eyes that sparkled as if lightly dusted with snow...

As Darcy was turning the lever which would activate his shower, he felt a pair of cold hands press themselves against his abdomen, startling him out of the warmth of his fantasy. He jumped both from the sudden shock of contradictory temperatures and the surprise of realizing that he wasn't alone. He had jerked himself free of their clutches and turned around before the spray of water had hit the tile.

Darcy was appalled to see Carrie standing there, a seductive smirk on her collagen-enhanced lips as she grossly invaded his personal space. She was still technically dressed, thank God, but the slinky little mini dress she was wearing barely qualified. It was really more like a shiny under slip. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I think that's pretty obvious, don't you?" Carrie reached for him again, but this time with a single frigid finger. It made contact in the center of his chest and began working its way slowly downward until Darcy halted its trajectory by grabbing it and yanking it away. He maintained possession of it in case she tried to touch him again.

"Go home, Carrie."

"But I came all the way over here on Christmas Eve just to see you." She inched closer and placed both chilly palms against the bare planes of his chest. Her breath smelled lightly of alcohol as she tried to seduce him with more sickly sweet words. "Come on. There's room in that shower for two..."

Darcy grasped Carrie by the shoulders and pushed her firmly away. "I told you, I'm going out. Go back to your brother's townhouse and spend tonight with your family."

Carrie's expression hardened for a moment before relaxing again. She tilted her head to the side and fluttered her lacquered eyelashes at him. "There's no need to go out when I'm right here, Will. Why waste your evening on the hunt when there's a sure thing right in front of you?"

The lavishly tiled room was beginning to fill with steam, reflecting the rise of Darcy's temper. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm not going to a party. I need see someone. So if you would please leave – "

"Not that Eliza Bennet!" exclaimed Carrie. She was surprisingly astute where Darcy's love life was involved and he never could figure out how she did it.

Darcy attempted to evade, unsettled by the accuracy of her guess. "I don't know why you think – "

"I saw that tacky little card she sent you." Carrie crossed her arms over her unnaturally perky bosom and glared at him. Her metallic gold talons tapped impatiently against her biceps. "She made it herself, no doubt. Probably between baking cookies – as if she needed the calories – and doodling those silly little picture books. I don't know what you see in her anyway! Her face is so wan and her skin is always dry and flaky. Her teeth are alright, I guess, but I'm sure some orthodontia would have helped her out. And her eyes aren't nearly as pretty as some people might think. Honestly, they're so squinty that she'll have wrinkles before she turns thirty! And then there's her attitude – "

"Carrie – "

"I remember when we first met her," Carrie pushed past his attempted interruption by raising her voice, "I asked you what you thought of her and you said 'she'll win a beauty pageant when her mother gets into Mensa'! I still laugh whenever I think of that one!"

Darcy was rigid with anger as Carrie proceeded to laugh in that high, affected way she had perfected as a young debutante in finishing school. He fought to temper his raging emotions so that he could respond to her calmly, hoping to avoid insulting his best friend's sister, but even deep breathing exercises in through his nose and discreetly out his mouth were not effective.

Eventually, he burst out, "That was only when I first met her. It's been a long time since I've thought her the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Now, get out."

Carrie stared at him, her eyes so painfully wide that he could see only a hint of her dark makeup around the rims of her lids, but blessedly said nothing else. Darcy took her by the upper part of her arm and marched her out of the bathroom, through the bedroom and finally deposited her into the hallway beyond his apartment. After he pushed her discarded coat into her chest, he shut the door in her startled face. He hoped that Bingley would forgive him for putting his sister out on the street on Christmas Eve, but there was no room at this inn for her manipulating, pushy, narcissistic ploys.

Darcy locked the door behind his evicted guest and jogged back to his shower.

…

Forty-five minutes later, Darcy was sitting in the driveway of Lizzy's tiny little craftsman-style house and willing himself to gather enough courage to get out of the car and knock on her door. Thankfully, it transpired that she was home – or, at least that her tiny red hatchback was parked in its usual spot – rather than spending the evening at her parents' house. Now, all he needed to do was get his cowardly butt out of its leather seat and see if she was willing to speak to him.

With a final deep breath of rapidly cooling air, Darcy pulled the door latch and released himself into the cold December night. The sharp chill of the atmosphere sliced at the warmth in his flesh as he levied himself out of his hybrid and began walking in the direction of her front porch. The crunch of his footsteps in the icy remainder of yesterday's snow was grating to his ears as his anxiety mounted.

After climbing the three steps to her door, Darcy attempted to steady himself with another deep breath, but it cut at his insides like shards of glass. The lights from her tree twinkled at him from the front window as he raised his hand to ring her doorbell, hesitating for only a single chicken-hearted second before depressing the button. Inside the tiny house, the bell chimed and her little dog responded with an enraged howl at the trespasser.

"Hush, Kitty!" Darcy's heart beat a quick, erratic pattern as he heard her raise her voice from within. The little dog – ironically named thanks to Lizzy's droll sense of humor – ignored her owner's admonishment and continued to yip and growl.

Before he could either quell his nervous energy or make a run for it, the door swung open and there she was – Lizzy Bennet, as quirky and pretty as he remembered wearing a long nightshirt spotted in pine trees and tiny little red-nosed reindeer. Beneath that, she was sporting a pair of red-striped leggings and pink bunny slippers. Her rambunctious curls were pulled back into a lopsided ponytail at the back of her head and her face, slackened into an expression of surprise, was devoid of any makeup at all but sported a charming blush beneath the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones.

"W-Will!" she stuttered, clutching the wiggling Kitty a little closer to her side. Her verdant green eyes were blinking at him as if she expected him to vanish into thin air like the Ghost of Christmas Past.

"Hi," Darcy greeted, the strain in his throat causing his voice to crack upon the single syllable. He coughed lightly to clear the obstruction and tried again. "Hi. I, uh...just got your card."

Lizzy bit her bottom lip, teasing it into a deeper color, and Darcy felt the impulse to skip all this awkwardness and simply lean over to kiss her. It would certainly save them both a lot of time, but he needed to treat this situation with more delicacy than he was inclined to give it. He couldn't let his impatience ruin his final chance and scare her away for good.

"Oh," she finally said, then resumed nibbling her lip. "I was starting to wonder...well, I didn't know if you'd gotten it or just ignored it or..."

Darcy wrenched his gaze away from her mouth and looked into her eyes. Now that some of the immediate shock of his sudden appearance seemed to be wearing off, her brows were knitted slightly together in the middle and her eyes were a touch wary. Was she irritated that he would just show up on her doorstep uninvited on Christmas Eve? Or was she as hopeful and nervous about this unplanned meeting as he was?

God, he hoped it was the latter.

"Can I come in?" he bid, shuffling his increasingly numb feet against her doormat.

"Oh! Yes, absolutely, come inside where it's warm." Lizzy stepped back so that he had room to slide past her and into the front room where her mismatched couch, armchair and coffee table were clustered around her wall mounted television. Some sort of Christmas-themed claymation cartoon was playing in the background and a steaming cup of hot chocolate was sitting upon the coffee table.

Darcy's arm brushed lightly against Lizzy's chest as she turned to shut and lock the door behind him, sliding both the deadbolt and the chain at the top to secure them safely inside. He supposed that was a good sign that indicated she wanted him to stay awhile.

Lizzy waved flicked her hand toward the seating area. "Please, sit down. Do you want some peppermint hot chocolate? I just made some."

"No, thanks," replied Darcy as he lowered himself down onto her couch, right next to the spot he knew she favored. He left that one open for her and, to his delight, she brushed past his knees to resume it rather than settling herself further away in the recliner.

Kitty wriggled herself free from Lizzy's arms and, as was her usual practice, climbed into Darcy's lap to welcome him with excited kisses. If her owner would do the same, Darcy would have nothing else to wish for this Christmas – or any other.

Once they were settled, there was a stretch of silence between them, cut only by Kitty's fervent affection for Darcy. At length, Lizzy tentatively ventured, "So...you only just read my card?"

Darcy calmed Kitty into a more snuggling position by scratching behind her ears, leaving him free to speak to Lizzy without the fluffy mutt impeding their conversation. He responded to her haltingly. "Yeah. I...I've been kinda letting my mail pile up for a bit. I'm sorry about that. But when I read it, I began to hope, like I'd never allowed myself to hope before, that maybe we could patch things up between us. I figured that you would have come out and said that you wanted me to stay away if that were true. So here I am."

Lizzy laughed, a little tremulously. "Yeah, I guess you believe me capable of saying anything now – not that I blame you. I feel horrible about all that stuff I said to you...everything I accused you of..."

"Don't apologize," Darcy entreated, pivoting his upper body toward hers and slowly reaching out his hand to stroke against the sleeve on her forearm. Lizzy's eyes dipped to watch his fingers move against the fabric and he steadied himself to continue. "You might have gotten a few things wrong about me, but I didn't really deserve the benefit of the doubt, either. I was such a jackass to you when we first met, and then for a long time afterwards, that I'm not surprised that you'd think I was capable of mistreating someone. That is on me, not you."

Lizzy raised her eyes back up to his face, the multi-colored lights on her tree glimmering on the surface of her green irises like starlight. "But that's no excuse for being so stupid as to believe Greg with no proof at all. I was blinded by my prejudice against you and it made me gullible. It's like I never knew myself before you called me out on it."

Darcy leaned forward so far that Kitty leaped off his lap and onto the floor with an offended ruff. He attempted to convey his earnestness in his expression as he firmly said, "You aren't stupid or gullible; Greg is a con artist who has fooled a lot of people who should know better. My own father, for instance, never realized how full of it Greg was and he died thinking that they were friends. And my sister..."

"He has a way with fifteen-year-old girls, doesn't he?" Lizzy said just as Darcy felt her hand wrap itself around his. "At least now he doesn't dare come back here unless he wants to get thrown in jail. I just wish they'd have caught him."

"They will," Darcy reassured her, flipping his hand over so that their palms rested against one another and wrapping his fingers around hers. Their conjoined appendages rested between them upon the sofa cushions. "His luck will eventually run out."

Lizzy shook her head as if dispelling that criminal from her mind. "Forget about him; he's already taken up more of our time and energy than he deserves. And I wanted to thank you in person for what you did for Lydia. My whole family – "

"If you want to thank me," Darcy interrupted, tipping his head forward just a little more so that the gap between them was closed and his forehead rested against hers; he lowered his eyelids and savored the feeling of her warm skin against his own, "then do it for yourself only. Much as I respect your family, I didn't do it for them – I did it for you."

"You...you did?"

"Yes." Darcy breathed this single word out with a heavy exhale. "Lizzy, I still feel the same way as I did at Easter, but if you still can't see us together tell me now and I'll never bring it up again. I'll leave you alone from now on and we'll pretend that none of this ever happened. If, however, you think you can someday love me back, I would like to take you out sometime."

Lizzy was quiet after this plea, which made Darcy distinctly nervous. He was about to say something, to back peddle himself out of this painful quagmire of raw, exposed feelings, but then he felt a soft brush of warmth against his lips. It lingered there for only a moment, but it was unmistakably a kiss and Darcy, much like the Grinch, felt as if his heart had suddenly grown three sizes.

Darcy swallowed to re-wet his throat and then raised his eyelids, slowly, to look upon the beautifully flushed face of his dear, lovely Lizzy. She was staring back at him, nibbling that lip again, and apparently waiting for him to make the next move in their timid dance. He obliged her with the fervor of too long suppressed attraction, swelling hope and unmitigated joy, practically devouring her cherry-red mouth with his own and tangling his fingers in her untamed hair. Lizzy squealed in the back of her throat, but didn't push him away – instead, she dug her blunt fingernails into the back of his neck and tilted her face to the side to deepen their embrace, even slackening her jaw to invite his tongue inside.

Some commercial for a holiday-themed movie played on the television in the background, filling the room with music that the couple on the couch ignored. It warbled triumphantly around them, striking the climactic note as Lizzy tackled Darcy to the cushions in an enthusiastic display of love too long denied.

Make my wish come true
Baby all I want for Christmas is you

… … o0o … …

Author's Note: I tried to make this one kinda/sorta follow the Austen Original, but obviously changed around details that didn't suit me (such as Lizzy sending a Christmas card and not being confronted by Aunt Cathy). It was fun. Please find the spicy follow up in my "Naughty" anthology if you're interested, but both sections can be understood without the other if you prefer to keep it clean.

Happy Holidays!

– MrsMarySmythe