I wish to repeat this so that there is no confusion. What follows is NOT MY FAULT; it stemmed from this comment: "Any Austen-sequel author who says they're writing something other than fanfic doesn't understand what fanfic is. We're all writing fanfic. It just has a negative connotation when you say that, because it implies you threw some Ron/Harry mpreg slash in there or something." (Which I agree with).
However, that juxtaposition of Austen and mpreg got me thinking...
"Darcy...Fitzwilliam...I need your help."
Something in Bingley's voice--desperation perhaps--caused Darcy to look up from his book. Bingley stood in the doorway, face pale, hands hovering over him stomach. Darcy's attention gained, he tottered further into the library.
"Darcy," he said, voice thick with unshed tears, "I--I'm pregnant"
Darcy dropped his book.
"Oh God--is it true?" he asked, incredulous.
Bingley nodded miserably.
"And...is it mine?"
Bingley nodded again.
"Oh Charles!" Darcy cried, standing up and drawing a woebegone Bingley into his arms.
"Darcy..." Bingley breathed, turning his face upwards for a kiss.
"Charles." Darcy lowered his head, and pressed him lips to Bingley's.
No further words were heard from the library for several hours.