Fluffy Socks

She wishes she had her camera with her—and not for blackmailing purposes, either.

No, she wanted her camera with her so she could say with absolute certainty that she, Lizzie Bennet, had indeed just witnessed the marvel that is William Darcy sliding down the hall in his socks.

She stands frozen in the doorway, and can't keep the small noise of delight from escaping her when he does it again—he stumbles and whips around to look at her, snapping abruptly back into stiff and stuck up Darcy.

She presses her lips together, hard, because he's wide eyed and uncomfortably stiff, and it looks a lot like his face is cramping trying to find some acceptable median between horrifically embarrassed and I'm-still-holier-than-thou…

"Lizzie, I was just…" the words die a slow death, and while part of Lizzie delights in his discomfort, the rest of her is only delighting in the fact that Darcy sucks at sock sliding.

Well—at least by Bennet standards.

Honestly, that distance was just…

Her eyes drift down to his feet, lets the awkward silence stretch as she considers his socks.

Well no wonder.

She shakes her head and raises an eyebrow at Darcy.

"That's the best you got?"

Surprisingly, instead of taking up the challenge he goes even more stone-faced and embarrassed looking, and turns away.

She really doesn't get him, and turns back through the door to rush back to her room—and that just proved that Netherfield was ridiculous since you could actively run to get back to your room.

But then, most places didn't have an entire guest wing.

But, back on topic, she ran back to her room to grab her sliding socks (extra fluffy for bot comfort and slide), but by the time she got back to the hall she'd seen Darcy at, he's gone.

Pssh.

Now she had to go find Jane. Sliding the halls was fun, but it was much better if you had someone to do it with.

(Distantly, she wonders if maybe he'd thought she was making fun of him and his lack of words—nah)

She mentally shook her fist at Darcy for getting sock sliding into her head, because now it wouldn't leave her head until she did it, and she couldn't do it alone, so instead of leaving her sister and Bing alone on one of the rare instances Bing wasn't urging them to do some ridiculous and expensive hobby-type thing, she'd be interrupting.

She stopped to consider Bing's possible sock sliding game…

Smirks with sympathetic delight at the idea that he might be as bad as Darcy.

When she peeks into the lounge/study/living room/why-so-many-names place, she finds not only Jane and Bing, but Darcy as well.

The whole place was large and sleek looking, with furniture that all-told probably cost more than their whole house, and tall windows, and the door… whew. Instead of being a normal door, or even a double-door like the set leading to the kitchen (who needed that?), it was all open-concept. So technically there wasn't a door, per se. But there was enough room for like three sets of double doors, and there was this ornate flowery-leafy carved wood arch that went all the way from one wall to the next.

Darcy stiffened when she made eye contact with him from where she was peering around the edge of the wall, but it was more Jane's attention she was looking for.

She whistled.

Just a little yoo-hoo sort of sound, but it had Jane's head snapping up because that little yoo-hoo sort of sound had so much meaning.

Lizzie waggled her eyebrows and disappeared further back into the hallway to get a good starting distance, and then runs, and then…

She slides, glorious and steady in her fluffy socks, her power-surfer position held in place, and makes it almost all the way to the other wall. At the distance Lizzie can't help but throw a smirk Darcy's way because that is how you sock slide.

Jane, bless her heart, squeaks excitedly and jumps to her feet. She's halfway to the door before she remembers herself, and carefully smooth's the delighted grin from her face. Puts obvious focus into giving Lizzie a proper smirk, and raises one eyebrow.

"That's the best you got?"

Lizzie returns the smirk.

"I'm just getting warmed up. Are you up for the challenge, dear sister mine?"

"Always."

They trade the smirks for grins, because sock sliding, when Bing speaks up.

"Challenge?"

Bing looks confused, and when Lizzie glances at Darcy she sees something like dawning understanding on his face.

Lizzie rolled her eyes and grinned with her sister.

"Sock sliding challenge."

Both Bing and Darcy are equally horrible distance wise, but they don't hold it against them. They don't have the right socks for it, for one—waaay too thin.

Caroline smiles but pointedly doesn't participate when she finds them laughing in one of the upper hallways (and seriously, this house), and Lizzie thinks she would have said something about properness or something along the lines if both Bing and Darcy hadn't both been sliding.

It's still hilarious seeing Darcy—prim and proper and annoying Darcy—sock sliding, but it's sock sliding.

It's a Bennet Family Rule that you put aside all arguments and annoyances in the face (or foot, if that made a lick of sense) of sock sliding, and since it's a little bit like Fight Club, you also couldn't bring up anything about sock sliding outside of sock sliding, so she keeps this out of her Vlog Diaries. She wishes she could say something, because Jane and Bing were being sickeningly adorable, Jane catching Bing when he was teetering, the ridiculously intimate giggling, the extended staring…

But they do that plenty outside of Sock Sliding Silence, so.

(she also doesn't mention it because Lydia would feel left out, and though it was good to know finally who was better between the two of them without Lydia there to beat the socks off both of them… eeh, no, it would probably still have to be checked later without Bing around to distract Jane into going all googly-eyed. Victory was still victory, but sock sliding was serious business.)

Later, when she finds particularly large fluffy socks she buys them with hardly a second thought (the hardly being 'oh, sweet, 2 pairs for $2!'), and only feels a little bit awkward sending them to Darcy with a little note.

'Proper Sliding Socks,' is all it says, but later… much, much later, when she's reading a book Gigi had suggested to her and all curled up in one of Darcy's wingback chairs that was probably older than she was…

She hears a whistle.

Yoo hoo?

It had none of the confidence that made it a Bennet whistle but it grabs her attention all the same.

Darcy slides into the room with a hesitant smile, fluffy socks looking extra ridiculous on him—and she'd thought she couldn't handle him in jeans!—and she smirks up at him.

"Is that all you got?"

Fin.

Rewatching the LBD, enjoyed the idea of Sock Sliding being a Thing in the Bennet Household…

Yeah, just silly.

And fluffy.

So.

Pssshhhhhh.