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"Ugh, are you kidding me?"
Lizzy entering Darcy's Manhattan apartment unannounced was not an uncommon occurrence these days, but that kind of outburst was. "Liz?" Darcy called from the kitchen. "What's the matter?"
She came round the corner into the kitchen and dropped his post on the island. "First of all, when was the last time you got your mail?" she asked.
"Yesterday. I think."
"And this doesn't include the crazy fan mail?"
He rolled his eyes. "You're not disgusted by people sending me fliers for aluminium siding."
"No, that's just funny. This is what my issue is." She picked up a magazine like it was radioactive. "Since when do you subscribe to Men's Health?"
"I don't," he said, picking it up and looking at the address label. It was addressed to him, but he hadn't ordered it. "Huh. You know, I think someone from CSTV went to work for them."
"Is he trying to lure you away?" Lizzy teased.
Darcy leaned over and kissed her lightly. "Nothing's luring me away from you."
"Oh, don't feed me horror stories."
"So what else is going on with this?"
She turned it back to the front cover. "Where do I start?"
It took Darcy a second to recognize the shirtless man on the cover as Cristiano Ronaldo. "Darling, it's your favorite player!" he said, laughing.
"Ugh, don't make me hurl," she replied, punching his arm.
It was no surprise when Lizzy brought the copy to their next taping. "First of all, this has been photoshopped to death," she said at the beginning of her rant. "I have serious doubts Ronaldo actually looks like this."
"Wait, I thought only women were photoshopped," Darcy cut in. Normally he was too entertained by Lizzy's rants to interrupt, but that surprised him.
"Seriously, honey, look at this," she said, handing him the magazine. "There is no man in the world who looks like this."
"I do."
She broke out in a grin. "No, you don't. I hate to break it to you."
He nudged her with his shoulder. "Continue."
"Right. Second, guys, pull your jeans up. Your undies are not that sexy."
Darcy thought about commenting on that, but she'd kill him if he actually divulged details about their relationship to the internet at large, even if it was at his expense.
"Third," Lizzy continued, "let's talk about the lower left corner, where, as you will see, we have the following: 'Women Explained! (To the Extent Possible)'."
Since the beginning of the World Cup, when they'd first teamed up, they had become experts at letting silence work for them. Darcy certainly wasn't going to be the first to speak. Instead, he waited for her to sigh and speak. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
"Sadly, no," he replied. "There is one thing I'm a little curious about."
"What?" she asked warily.
He pointed to another item on the cover. "What's the number-one hidden health risk in my car?"
Lizzy smiled like she couldn't help it. "Good thing you don't have a car."
@kdrhine29: Just saw @LizzyBennetGK turning around Ronaldo cover of Men's Health at store. #civildisobedience #ronaldogate
"We do have Premier League issues, what with the start of the season, but the Twittersphere has a very important issue for us to discuss," Darcy said at the top of their next program.
Lizzy rubbed her face. "Must we?"
"Babe, you were turning magazines around in a bodega."
"I was performing a public service."
"The ladies behind us in line would disagree, I suspect."
"You could have taken your shirt off and distracted them."
"You could have taken your shirt off and distracted them."
To his surprise, she blushed bright pink.
He went to her place that night for Indian food and football. "Do you want the paneer tikka or the eggplant thing I can't ever remember the name of?" he asked.
She pursed her lips. "That's a tough choice."
"Split them?"
"Yes, please."
While Darcy got to it, Lizzy's phone quacked, the alert for a new tweet. "What is it this time?"
Lizzy looked at her phone and sighed. "Another picture of the back of Men's Health."
"It's been great for viewership."
"So was Luis Suárez."
He laughed. "All right, you have a point."
Another quack came as they sat down to eat, and Lizzy nearly choked on a piece of eggplant as she read it. "Lizzy, love," he said, patting her back as she managed to get her breath back.
She was shaking her head. "I'm good," she finally said. "But you've got to see this. It's from a fan in Brazil."
He took her phone and laughed. "They turned our studio in Rio into a toilet!"
"A toilet that can broadcast live, I guess."
"Surely they took out the cables."
"Cheaper to leave them."
"What an awful idea."
The Off the Pitch studio had changed with the change in host. Before, they just filmed in a corner of Darcy's office when he wasn't busy with the foundation his father started. They still filmed in the corner, but Lizzy put their favorite books and their childhood sport awards on the shelves to one side and hung relevant pictures every week on the other. The purists complained, but Darcy figured they were going to complain no matter what.
The network was still thrilled about Lizzy. Even in the midst of Ronaldogate, the pair had meetings with the CSTV executives about expanding their presence in the network's coverage. No one seemed quite sure what to do with America's newfound love of football. The suits were torn between certainty that the hype was just due to the World Cup and hope that America had finally come to realize why the rest of the world loved this game so much. Whatever the case, OTP, as it had come to be known, was going to be the tent pole in the network's soccer programming.
The acronym turned into a bit of a thing. Lizzy managed their online presence, and she discovered people on the internet who liked writing fiction about famous people. Darcy thought this was odd, to say the least, but he wasn't going to spoil people's fun, even when Lizzy found the stories about him and Wickham. "Apparently you're still pining for him," she informed him one evening. "That time a couple weeks ago when we went out and you were annoyed at me for bugging the waiter about the dessert menu? There's at least four stories about us breaking up and you reuniting with your true love."
"Whom the network conspired to prevent me being with?"
"Right."
"So what's the deal with the acronym?"
Lizzy smiled. "Apparently 'OTP' usually stands for 'one true pairing,' which is kind of cute. So OTP can mean the show or you and me."
"Or me and George."
"Yes, but I prefer not to think about that."
"They're going to have a fit when you and I get married and start having babies."
Lizzy arched a brow at him. "When are we getting married?"
He shrugged. "It's up to you, I suppose."
"Christmas?" she suggested.
"Works for me."
They started a new segment on the show as the English Premier League began, to explain quirks of the game in general and the league in specific. Lizzy would pose the question, and Darcy would give an answer, usually in earnest. The first question was not exactly about the game, however. "This is actually something I've wondered about for some time," she said. "Why do English fans sing 'You'll Never Walk Alone'?"
"That's a good question," Darcy said. "That's a good question, and I'm not sure I have the answer. I asked my uncle, though, and he suggested it's to do with the war."
"World War II?"
"Yes. I mean, think about it," he said, and then recited the lyrics. "'When you walk through the storm, hold your head up high, and don't be afraid of the dark. At the end of the storm is a golden sky and the sweet silver song of the lark. Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain, though your dreams be tossed and blown. Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart and you'll never walk alone.'"
Lizzy looked to the camera. "I'm beginning to get concerned about the breadth of Will Darcy's musical theater knowledge."
"Oh, hush. You know you love me for it."
She rolled her eyes with a smile. "At least you didn't sing."
"See? I can be kind."
"I think the entire universe just tweeted me something about Ronaldo, tighty-whiteys, and a bucket of ice water."
"Rise above it, darling. Rise above."
They went to England for the first game of the English Premier League season, and Darcy was happy to introduce Lizzy to his family while they were there. They wound up having to record their weekly show inside another closet, this one in the Fitzwilliams' sprawling mansion. Darcy's cousin Richard locked them in, of course, like they couldn't find something to do while locked in a closet.
His cousin Andrew had three children now, the youngest of whom was not quite a year old. The little guy, Robin, was really quite adorable, and he enjoyed the attention of the entire family. Lizzy became a quick favorite with him, and if he wasn't with his mother he was probably with Lizzy. Darcy was a little concerned what Robin was going to do when they left England, because he didn't think Andrew and Pippa would let them abscond with their baby.
Lizzy had Robin in her lap while they played a board game with the older kids one evening. Eventually Robin turned himself around so he was up higher, and he started to rub his face against her shoulder. Darcy watched the scene with a small smile, not caring that his cousins were going to tease him mercilessly later.
Then as Richard was making a big show of indecision on his next move, Lizzy said, "Robin, what are you—ow! Are you biting me?"
"Oh, did I not mention he bites?" Pippa asked. "I'm surprised it's taken him this long to start gnawing on you."
By then Robin had leaned over and was biting her bare arm instead of her shoulder through her shirt. "Ow, seriously," Lizzy said, picking him up and holding him away from her arm. "Who do you think you are? Luis Suárez?"
Darcy leaned over and the baby looked at him. "This is serious, young man," he said. "You could get a four-month suspension."
Across the table Andrew started laughing. "Four-month suspension from what?"
"Doesn't matter," Lizzy replied, while Robin kicked at the air and grinned. "He doesn't believe Will anyway."
Pippa sent one of the kids off to bring a teething ring for the baby, but Darcy was amused to see that for the remainder of the evening, Robin spent more time trying to om-nom Lizzy's hand than the toy.
They came back to New York and Lizzy draped their little studio corner in black bunting. "America, we're in mourning," she said at the top of the broadcast.
"And I've had to put up with it for the last forty-eight hours."
Lizzy elbowed him. "Look, I mourned the day you retired, okay?"
Darcy sat up a little straighter without thinking about it. Then he slouched again and frowned. "This doesn't mean you're actually going to have Tim Howard's babies now, does it?"
"I haven't had your babies, genius," Lizzy replied, peeved. "Well, in case you haven't heard, Tim Howard has announced that he's taking a year off from the U.S. men's national team and playing fewer games with Everton for the duration."
"Tell them why."
"To vex me."
"Yes, Tim Howard is making career decisions in order to bother you."
Lizzy finally cracked a smile at that. "It's to spend more time with his kids, it turns out. I can't say I blame him that much. His kids are here in the States. Between the interminable EPL season—"
"Hey!"
"—And the absurd number of friendlies the U.S. team plays, it's a huge commitment."
"Doesn't he also do commentary for some games? And he's got a hundred caps already. Not many guys play more than that."
Lizzy reached across him and grabbed a large index card taped to a tongue depressor. On it was written "terms for newbies!" in purple glitter glue. "Darcy, please define 'cap' for the new people," she said.
"A cap is an appearance with the international team," he explained smoothly. "No idea why."
She put the sign away. "Thank you. So are you expecting a retirement announcement?"
"Hard to say," Darcy said. "No one in their right mind seriously expects him to still be at this level of play at the next World Cup. I realize defensive players tend to last a bit longer than the rest of us, but I think this actually reflects a little bit of responsibility towards the future of the team."
"Gives other goalkeepers the chance to play internationally, you mean."
He nodded. "I think this means he's out for the Gold Cup next year too."
"The Gold Cup being the CONCACAF tournament. We'll just have to see if he plays in the Copa América in 2016." She paused and gave a wistful look to the camera. "Is that really two years away?"
"Yes, dear." He hugged her waist and laughed. "Are you really that excited over this?"
"Hey, it's the South American tournament—their centennial tournament—and they're having it in the U.S.! And we're invited to play in the tournament!"
Darcy only smiled and let her go. "So do you think Jürgen Klinsmann lets him walk back on? He didn't Landon Donovan."
"Donovan wasn't playing at all. It's certainly his prerogative, but he shouldn't have expected an automatic berth onto the national team when he was in the middle of a sabbatical. Especially not with that hair."
Darcy rolled his eyes. "Oh, would you stop?"
Lizzy grinned at the camera. "Doesn't seem likely."
@ackling92: @LizzyBennetGK when did @DarcyStriker give you that ring?????
@LizzyBennetGK: Couple weeks ago.
@LizzyBennetGK: It was for a promise never to mention his Ronaldoesque hair again.
@LizzyBennetGK: Oops.
@DarcyStriker: I'm shaving my head now. #ronaldovendetta
@strikergirl88: Nooooooooo! #ronaldovendetta #savedarcyshair
@lstewart94: Weeping. And gnashing of teeth. #savedarcyshair
@meghanleft: Whyyyyyy didn't Bloomberg ban razors instead of soda? #savedarcyshair
@EdGardinerCSTV: You realize you let @DarcyStriker distract you from the GIANT ROCK @LizzyBennetGK is wearing? #savedarcyshair #ringinterrogation
@MegGardinerCSTV: Does that ring have its own gravitational field? It's the size of a small moon. #ringinterrogation
@DarcyStriker: That's no moon, that's a space station. #ringinterrogation
@ForwardChuck: Was it as expensive as a Death Star? Did you buy two in case of Rebellion incursion? #ringinterrogation
"Hello, everyone, and welcome to the Off the Pitch studio. I'm Will Darcy, she's Lizzy Bennet, and why are you watching this on Labor Day?" Darcy said, starting the last show before the game in Prague.
"Maybe it's raining where they are," Lizzy suggested.
"Hey, could you explain something to me? What's the point of Labor Day?"
"My grandmother told my mother it was a day to stay home and work really hard cleaning."
Darcy was sipping from a bottle of water and nearly wound up with water up his nose. "Tell me you're making that up."
Lizzy shook her head. "Nana was interesting."
"I'm sorry I didn't get to meet her."
"No, she'd have had you cleaning the top of the fridge, since you're tall."
"Well, now we know what your Nana thought Labor Day was all about, but I doubt that's the real answer."
"No, it was to celebrate the American worker," Lizzy replied. "I believe the holiday was enacted after one of the horrific labor-management conflicts in the nineteenth century. And we don't celebrate that international workers' something or other in May because we're allergic to socialism. The first Monday in September is like an epipen of capitalism."
"It's a good thing no one believes above half of what you say."
"I don't believe more than half of what I say."
A couple hours after the U.S. game in Prague, Lizzy and Darcy finally made it to their studio for their live broadcast. At the top of the show Darcy said, "As you can tell by Lizzy having slapped on her war paint, today was the U.S. men's national team's first outing since the World Cup. And since she's not singing Pagliacci—"
"Who the what now?" Lizzy interrupted.
Darcy heaved a sigh and addressed the camera. "Lydia, would you mind enlightening your sister?"
"Anyway," she said, "today was a first! The U.S. men's team has never before beaten the Czech Republic, let alone on Czech soil."
"It was, in fact, an impressive one-nil victory," he replied. "Especially when you consider it wasn't just Tim Howard who wasn't there. The MLS players, most of whom are this team's veterans, weren't in Prague either."
"Yeah, we had a baby team out there," Lizzy agreed. "But you know, it's nice to see the new guys, the guys who are probably going to be the backbone of the national team in four years."
"What do you make of the Czech performance?"
"It was a little bloodless, I thought. Especially considering next week they're playing a very aggressive Netherlands team."
"In qualifying for Euro 2016."
"Right." Lizzy's phone chimed, and she checked the text. "According to my sister, Pagliacci is the name of an Italian opera from the late nineteenth century best known for the sad clown character, which I suppose is the salient point."
"Thank you, Lydia," Darcy said, waving.
"Anyway," Lizzy said, "on the U.S. side, I will say, it was very..."
"Workmanlike?"
"Exactly. More possession than we had in the World Cup. Not a lot of dramatics. Which is good, because dramatics can tear the cartilage in your knee at the worst possible moment." There Darcy reached for a sign of his own, one reading "Lizzy Bennet True Story." She elbowed him, rolling her eyes. "But dramatics can make for an amazing game too."
"You worried the American love affair with the beautiful game might be at risk?"
"A little. It'd be worse if we'd lost."
A silence fell, and Lizzy cleared her throat. "You know, we should probably explain to the nice viewers what happened to us today."
"Mm, you're right," he replied. "We have mostly done our viewing for this series in private. But today, the genius to my left decided we ought to go out into the world."
"So we went to Sideswipe 7, this great little pub not too far from the Columbia campus, actually. The owner there loves soccer, so we knew all the TVs there would be on the game."
"And the owner knows us, so it really shouldn't have been a surprise when he tweeted to the universe that we were there for the game."
"In fairness, it wasn't that bad," she said.
"Wasn't that bad?"
"Everything calmed down by the time Bedoya scored."
"I suppose."
"Next time we do this I'm going to have to wear a bag over my head."
Darcy smiled and dug up the paper bag he'd prepped for her in Rio, which he'd kept for just such a moment. "Here you go."
"Only if we come up with a better adjective than legendary. One that doesn't make me sound old."
He made a show of thinking hard. "Hmm. Serpentine."
To his surprise, she looked pensive. "Huh, serpentine. Well, I am kind of bendy."
Chagrined, Darcy made a face. "I walked straight into that."
Over a glass of wine that night, Darcy scrolled the news on his phone idly. A refresh of the news feed gave him a story that made him smile. "What's that look about?" Lizzy said, coming alongside him and taking the second glass on the counter.
"Ronaldo—"
"Ugh."
"Ronaldo's making noise about wanting to go back to Manchester United."
"You're awfully sanguine about him going to your old team."
"I'm not invested in your little Ronaldo vendetta."
"Mm, I'm just grateful you didn't actually shave your head."
Darcy set both their glasses aside and drew her in for a long kiss. They were both breathing a little heavily when she drew away from him. "What's gotten into you?" she asked. "Not that I'm complaining."
"I've been thinking," he replied, nuzzling her cheek. "This is going to sound like it's out of the blue, but I'm thinking about becoming an American citizen."
Lizzy jerked in surprise. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. I'm marrying an American citizen, my kids are going to be American citizens, I live here now and I'm not going back."
"That's not exactly..."
"This is home," he murmured. "You're a big part of that, but it is more than that. This is home, and I want it to be official."
Lizzy grinned widely. "Well, this calls for a party."
"Sure. We'll invite Ronaldo."
She smacked his arm, and he was laughing too hard to object.