I'm aware Darcy is like 5 years older than Bingley. But I reject that idea. Darcy is still older, but just a late bloomer, and Bingley, for once in his life, is early.
...
Three months after Mr. Smith had assigned Darcy and Bingley as study partners, and Darcy was practically glued to Bingley. Bingley's marks came up significantly. Darcy loved talking about the books. Bingley loved hearing about the books and asked questions to get all the information. Darcy and Bingley spent a lot of time together studying, and soon Bingley was introducing Darcy to other boys.
Darcy remained very shy, but in Bingleys presence he became more outgoing. Darcy was only talkative around his friends though. The minute he was left alone he reverted back into his shell.
Soon, Darcy found himself fishing and talking about books with friends. That's right, friends multiple. Sometimes he could hardly believe it.
His favorite still remained Bingley though, even though he baffled Darcy. Like right now.
"Is he new?" Bingley asked, looking at a pale, white haired boy. No one knew him, but the boy was quickly engulfed in a group of some of the older boys.
"Don't know, Bing, but he seems to have enough friends," Carlisle said. Darcy liked Carlisle. He was stoic and dry, hysterical in a casual, collected manner. Darcy looked up to him, because that was something Darcy could achieve. As much as he loved Bingley, he could never be as animated as Bingley.
"Let's go talk to him! He'll need friends in his own class, and I don't see any over there!" Bingley declared. Darcy felt a shock of nerves at the idea of jumping into a crowd of strangers to talk to them.
"As fun as being jostled by the older idiots seems, I reject your invitation," Carlisle said sitting down next to Darcy. Darcy snorted with laughter, while Bingley laughed openly.
"You're almost as bad as Darce," Bingley said good naturedly
"We'll take detailed notes of your introduction to the strangers. Bingley, having found the savages, decides to walk up to them!" Carlisle smiled and narrated an adventure novel. Bingley cackled as Darcy chuckled.
"Be a stick in the mud then, I'll be back soon," he said, walking to the group. Darcy and Carlisle watched from a safe distance while their friend did the impossible: talk to strangers.
"Impressive start," Carlisle narrated, "the savages seem to have accepted him as one of their own. Note the time of seven seconds to acceptance. Might be a new record."
"It's also possible that he's one of the savages and we've just accepted him," Darcy said.
"By jove you're right, we've been bamboozled by a savage. That's probably why he wanted to bring us back to his clan!" Carlisle said in quiet shock. They watched the redhead bounce around the group before getting to the pale boy. The pale boy looked him up and down and sneered.
"What the deuce?" Carlisle said, confused at the pale boy's reaction. But Darcy was already up and walking to the group.
"Hey Darcy!" "Oh, you're Mr. Darcy!" "How's Pemberley Mr. Darcy?" The older boys called to him, but he felt tongue tied and shy, and so ducked his head as he suffered the gauntlet for his friend.
"Do you know who I am?" he overheard the pale boy say with derision.
"No, that's why I came over," Bingley smiled in his face. The stranger scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"My father is the Earl of Devon."
"Jolly good, but who are you?" Bingley smiled impatiently. The pale boy looked confused, as if that answer was all he'd thought about.
"Come on Bingley," Darcy said, grabbing his friend's elbow, "he doesn't want anything to do with us." The pale boy looked at Darcy and heard the conversation around him.
"You're Darcy of Pemberley? Earl of Matlock's nephew? It's nice to meet you," the pale boy smiled, sticking his hand out. Darcy felt angry at the slight to Bingley, but bound by his own manners.
"Indeed," Darcy said, shaking the boy's hand, and walking away, dragging Bingley behind him. He was all he could do to make it back to Carlisle who was just on the edge of the group.
"What a rude boy," was the collective statement. Depending on the group, it could have been Darcy or the Earls son that was rude.
oxoxoxoxoxo
Darcy was sitting near the pond laughing with Bingley and Nelson. Nelson was a boy one class above them, covered in freckles and a cheeky, sarcastic grin. Right then Bingley was talking about his latest obsession.
Frogs.
Bingley would get hyper fixated on one subject for about a week, and then would never mention it again. It made each week interesting.
Nelson indulged every whim Bingley thought of, asking ridiculous questions that Darcy thought were just as funny as a joke.
Bingley was also struggling through his voice change. Every third word his voice broke. The more excitable he got the more violent the voice breaking. Bingley seemed to find this as funny as everyone else, but Darcy saw how his ears turned red whenever it happened during a class presentation.
With his friends though, Bingley didn't seem to mind.
Darcy had yet to go through the voice change, and he dreaded when it happened. He also hated his voice now. He sounded like a child. To make it worse, he was the shortest of his class. He worried that he would never change. But hearing Bingleys voice, he worried for when he would.
"Why do froOoGgszz–" Darcy tried to speak but felt his voice crack violently. So much so that he had to cough and try to clear his throat. He blushed so damn hard he thought his face would melt off.
Bingley and Nelson roared with laughter. Bingley doubled over and clutched his stomach and wiped at his tears. Nelson couldn't even look at Darcy for his own laughter.
The laughter of his friends pushed Darcy through his self reprimands and out the other side into acceptance. He laughed as well when Bingley tried to imitate the voice crack, but his own voice cracked accidently. Nelson could barely breathe at Bingley's broken rendition.
They started to calm down, but one glance towards each other set them to howling. Darcy had never laughed so hard at himself.
Bingley was laughing so hard that he had transcended into breathless squeaks behind his hands. His face was a vibrant red. Nelson slapped him on the back to get him to breathe again.
"Ow!" Bingley gasped, holding a rib as he laughed, "Ow! I've pulled something." This sent Nelson and Darcy back into laughter. That pulled muscle may have saved Bingleys life because the pain of it made him stop laughing and he was able to breath.
When they got back to themselves, Bingley gestured to Darcy.
"You were saying?" he asked. Darcy didn't want to speak ever again in this life or the next, but with his friends, he made an exception.
"Well, I was—" Darcy began, but stopped in confusion. His voice was exceptionally deep and he didn't recognize it. His shocked face made the other two fall back into laughter.
"I don't–" he began again, only to hear the pair cackle.
"What I was–" he tried again, smirking as Bingley and Nelson whooped.
"Are you done?" he said, thankful he hadn't heard a crack in that alien voice. Bingley and Nelson wiped their eyes and nodded.
"Was that it?" Nelson asked, "one big crack and you're done?"
"I'm not sure," Darcy's deep voice said, "I haven't experimented enough to see." So far, his voice had stayed steady.
"Damn it," Bingley said, his voice cracking, "what do I have to do for that trick?"