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Fred looked up at the sky, the fading sunset casting a warm glow over the quiet town of Coolsville. The last few rays danced through the leaves of the trees lining the street, throwing patterns of light and shadow on the pavement below. He felt a slight breeze pick up, the perfect temperature for a night of stargazing with his best bud, Shaggy. Grabbing his bag, filled with snacks and a flashlight, he whistled as he approached the door of his house.
Inside, he called out for Shaggy, who emerged from the kitchen with a half-eaten sandwich in hand. "You ready, pal?" Fred asked, his excitement barely contained.
Shaggy, looking a bit more hesitant, nodded, swallowed his bite, and said, "As ready as I'll ever be." He grabbed his favorite green jacket and a bag of Scooby Snacks for good measure.
They climbed into the Mystery Machine, its engine rumbling to life with a comforting familiarity. The van was a cluttered mess of maps, flashlights, and various ghost-catching gear from their past adventures, but it was their sanctuary, a symbol of their friendship and the excitement that awaited them on every journey. The seats were worn, but they had molded perfectly to the shape of the two friends over the years.
Fred adjusted the rearview mirror, the reflection showing his eager face. "To the old field, Scooby," he announced with a grin. Scooby-Doo, lounging in the back, lifted his head briefly to acknowledge the plan before returning to his nap. Shaggy buckled up, his eyes darting around the cluttered dashboard nervously.
The Mystery Machine rolled down the street, the setting sun casting long shadows that danced alongside them. The town grew quieter as they drove out of the city limits, the streetlights giving way to the flickering light of the stars. The headlights cut through the gathering darkness, illuminating the winding road ahead. Shaggy, despite his apprehension, couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement. The meteor shower was supposed to be a spectacle, one they couldn't miss.
When they reached the old field, the headlights painted a swath of brightness across the tall grass and the silhouettes of trees standing sentinel at the edge. Fred pulled the van into a clearing and killed the engine. The sudden silence was almost deafening, only broken by the distant hoot of an owl. They stepped out into the cool evening, the scent of freshly cut hay filling their nostrils. Scooby-Doo barked eagerly, excited to run on his own for a few hours.
Fred tossed Scooby his favorite red Frisbee, and the dog took off like a shot, his tail wagging furiously as he chased the spinning disk into the night. The two friends watched him, chuckling at his antics. "Looks like he's happy to be out," Shaggy said, his voice a bit tense.
They turned their attention to the back of the van, where they began to set up a cozy viewing area. Pulling out a pile of pillows and blankets, they arranged them into a makeshift bed, ensuring that they had the perfect view of the sky through the open back doors. They didn't bother with a telescope; the beauty of the meteor shower was best enjoyed with the naked eye. The air was crisp and clean, a stark contrast to the dusty heat of the day.
Shaggy popped open a can of soda with a hiss, the fizz echoing in the quiet. The carbonated beverage spilled over the side, adding a faint sugary scent to the mix of hay and grass. He took a sip, the cold liquid bubbling against his teeth. "So, what's the plan, Fred?" he asked, trying to sound casual despite the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right.
Fred leaned back against the van, his eyes scanning the star-studded sky. "Just wait for the shower to start, enjoy the snacks, and maybe tell a few spooky stories to keep us on our toes." His voice was light, but Shaggy knew him well enough to catch the hint of tension in his tone. They had faced their fair share of real monsters and fake ones, but something about tonight had Fred on edge.
The first stars began to twinkle into existence as the sky grew darker. The air was alive with anticipation. They munched on chips and dip, their conversation a mix of their latest school gossip and hypothetical scenarios about what the meteors might reveal. Would they spot a UFO? Or maybe even a real alien? The thoughts were ludicrous, but in the spirit of their adventures, they couldn't help but entertain the possibilities.
Fred noticed that Shaggy's hand had found its way to his mouth again, his thumb and forefinger picking at his nails with a nervous rhythm. "Hey, Shag, you okay?" he asked, tossing him a bag of Scooby Snacks. "You're gnawing on your nails like you're expecting to find a sandwich in there."
Shaggy took the bag, his eyes never leaving the sky. "I'm fine," he said, though the tightness around his mouth suggested otherwise. "Just... you know, a little jittery about the whole meteor thing."
Fred nodded understandingly. "I get it, buddy. But hey, we've seen weirder stuff, right?" He clapped Shaggy on the shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. "How about we play some tunes or something to take our minds off it?"
"Or something?"
Fred nodded and grabbed the portable radio from the dashboard, tuning into their favorite oldies station. The upbeat melody of "Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?" floated out into the night, and the tension around Shaggy seemed to ease slightly. They laid down on their backs, the cool fabric of the blankets sending a shiver up their spines. Scooby-Doo dropped the Frisbee and trotted over to them, his panting the only sound other than the music. He curled up at their feet, his warmth a comforting presence.
Fred tossed the Frisbee again, watching it arc through the air before landing in the grass with a soft thud. He glanced over at Shaggy, who was staring up at the stars, his eyes wide with wonder. "You know," Fred began, his voice low, "I saw something that might help us relax in the center consol."
Shaggy tore his gaze away from the heavens and looked at him quizzically. "What's that?"
Fred winked and reached into the center console, his hand emerging with a slightly crumpled package. "Remember when you accidentally left your stash here after that party?" He held up the blunt, the faint scent of marijuana tickling their nostrils. "Thought this might take the edge off."
Shaggy's eyes grew wide, then he chuckled, his nerves visibly loosening. "Fred, you sneaky devil," he said, taking the offered blunt. "You know I can't resist when the stars are out."
They closed the back doors of the van, sealing themselves in a warm, cozy space filled with the faint scent of dust and adventure. The plush pillows and blankets felt like a cocoon around them, and the music played on, the catchy tunes of the '60s serving as a comforting backdrop to their nocturnal escapade. Shaggy took out a lighter from his pocket, the flame casting flickering shadows on the metal interior of the Mystery Machine as he lit the blunt. He took a deep drag, held it in, and then passed it to Fred, who followed suit. The van quickly filled with a haze of smoke, the windows fogging up with their exhales.
The first few moments were filled with the coughs and giggles of two teenagers who hadn't quite mastered the art of hotboxing. Scooby-Doo, curious about the new scent, barked at the doors before going back to running loops around the opening. They continued to pass the blunt back and forth, the music and their laughter melding into a soothing symphony of friendship and camaraderie. The tension that had been building in Shaggy's stomach began to unravel like a tightly wound spring, and he sank deeper into the pillows, his eyes half-closed in contentment.
As they lay there, the stars grew brighter, the sky seemingly coming closer. The smoke from the blunt curled around them, a visual representation of their shared comfort. Fred couldn't help but notice how Shaggy's face had softened, the harsh lines of his nose and jaw becoming more gentle in the dim light. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief when he took a hit was something Fred had seen a thousand times, but tonight, it seemed more endearing than ever. The soft glow of the dashboard lights painted him in an ethereal glow that made him appear almost angelic.
Shaggy, on the other hand, found his gaze drawn to Fred's profile. The way the light caught the curve of his cheekbone, the way his hair fell into his eyes as he laughed, the ease with which he moved—it was all soothingly familiar yet captivating. The smoke had mellowed him out, and as he studied his friend, he realized he had never truly appreciated just how handsome Fred could be. He felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling that was both new and as old as their friendship.
They lay in companionable silence, the music playing softly in the background, the occasional crackle of the radio's static punctuating the quiet night. The stars above them grew more numerous, their light piercing the velvet sky like tiny shards of diamond. The first meteors began to streak across the heavens, leaving trails of shimmering dust in their wake.
The sight was mesmerizing, and the two friends watched in awe as the sky put on its show. The occasional "whoa" or "check that one out" escaped their lips, but mostly, they were lost in the beauty unfolding above them. The smoke from the blunt had dissipated, leaving only a faint sweetness that mixed with the scent of the grass and the cool night air.
Fred shivered slightly, the chill seeping through his clothes. He leaned closer to Shaggy, who responded by wrapping an arm around him, pulling him into the warmth of their (Shaggy's) blanket. They didn't say anything, the moment speaking for itself as they snuggled closer, their shoulders pressing together.
Shaggy took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on him, but in a way that was comforting rather than oppressive. He stared into the abyss above, the stars winking back as if sharing a secret. The last of the blunt's warmth left his lungs, mingling with the cool night air. "You know, Fred," he murmured, "I think this might be the best meteor shower we've ever seen."
Fred's eyes had once again found the softened edge of Shaggy's jaw "Yeah, it's beautiful."
As the meteors grew more frequent, the sky became a canvas of fleeting lights, painting a spectacle that seemed to dance to the rhythm of their beating hearts. Each streak was a silent symphony, a silent promise of mystery and wonder. And as they watched, the tightness in Fred's chest eased, the weight of the world lifting just a bit.
Fred turned to Shaggy, his curiosity piqued by something he had heard earlier. "Hey, Shag," he began, his voice low and slightly hesitant. "What's the deal with shotgunning?"
Shaggy's eyes grew round, and his arm tightened around Fred's shoulders for a brief moment before he let go, sitting up slightly. "What do you mean?" He tried to play it cool, his voice giving away none of the confusion and surprise he felt.
Fred mirrored his movement, sitting up as well. "You know, when you do that thing with the smoke and the air," he said, mimicking the action with his hands. "It's supposed to be like... instant buzz or something?"
Shaggy's cheeks flushed slightly, and he took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "Oh, that," he said, trying to sound casual. "It's just... you know, a way to get a quick hit without the harshness of a straight drag."
Fred nodded, his curiosity now fully piqued. "Can you
show me?"
Shaggy's eyes darted down to Fred's soft mouth, lingering a second too long. "You know I'll have to get.. pretty close, right?"
Fred nodded quickly, smoothing closer to his best friend and reaching to light a second, albeit smaller, joint. "That's fine Shag, I trust you!"
Shaggy pushed down the skip in his chest at the simple words and moved to take the joint and lighter from Fred.
"So, it's like this," he began, his voice a little shaky from the sudden rush of nerves. "You hold the smoke in your mouth, and I'll almost cover your mouth with mine. Then, you breathe in while I release the smoke into your lungs." He demonstrated by cupping his hands around an invisible mouth and miming the action.
Fred leaned in closer, his eyes locked on Shaggy's demonstration. "Just almost, yeah?"
Shaggy nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. "Yeah, just almost." He brought the joint to his own mouth, took a deep drag, to calm himself, before releasing it back into the van. Taking another hit and holding it in his mouth, he leaned towards Fred. Their faces were inches apart, the warmth of their breath mingling as the tip of the joint glowed a fiery orange. He held his breath, feeling Fred's anticipation in the tension of his body.
But as Shaggy moved to cover Fred's mouth with his, the cough took him by surprise. He hadn't braced for it, and the smoke shot out of his mouth with a sudden force that washed over Fred's face. They both recoiled, Shaggy's eyes watering as he choked back a laugh, his shoulders shaking with the effort of not letting it out.
Fred, however, was not amused. "What the... Shaggy, are you trying to kill me?" He waved his hand in front of his face, trying to clear the smoke.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Shaggy smoothed a hand over his face, trying to whip the grin off his face. "let's try that again."
Fred's eyes narrowed, but he leaned back in, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He took the joint from Shaggy, his thumb and forefinger pinching the end to keep the ember from burning his skin. Shaggy leaned towards the joint in Fred's grasp and took a slow, deliberate drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a beat before leaning in.
Their mouths nearly met, Fred's slightly open, and Shaggy's hovering just above, a warm exhale of smoke filling the space between them. Fred breathed in deeply, feeling the smoke fill his lungs, the sensation surprisingly intimate. His eyes drifted shut as the smoke danced in his mouth, a soft sound of satisfaction escaping his lips.
When he opened them again, Shaggy was staring at him, his own eyes a little glazed. "How was that?" Shaggy asked, his voice a bit rougher than usual.
Fred couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "It was... different," he said, his voice a little huskier than he had intended. "But I liked it."
Their eyes remained locked for a moment longer than necessary, the air between them thick with something unspoken. Shaggy looked away first, taking another drag from the joint and passing it back to Fred. The moment had passed.
Fred took a hit, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. He watched as the meteors continued to streak across the sky, the beauty of the scene lost to the sudden awkwardness that had settled between them. He took a deep breath and leaned closer to Shaggy, holding the joint just above his friend's mouth. "Your turn," he said, his voice a little too loud in the quiet.
Shaggy's eyes searched Fred's for a moment, reading the unspoken question there. He leaned in, his breath catching as Fred's fingertips grazed his lips, the warm smoke filling his mouth. He took a deep drag, fighting the urges to break eye contact. He held it in, his heart racing, before pulling away and exhaling. The smoke curled around them like a warm embrace.
Fred's hand hovered for a beat longer than necessary, and when he finally pulled back, their fingers brushed against each other's. The electricity of the touch sent a jolt through Shaggy, and he shivered, despite the warmth of the van. He coughed, trying to cover up his reaction. "Good hit," he managed to say, his voice a little too high.
"How about you try?" Shaggy jerked a nod towards the joint while pretending to once again focus on the meteor shower outside.
Fred took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering in his chest. He took the joint, feeling the warmth of Shaggy's touch still lingering on it. He took a drag and leaned in, intending to repeat the process. But his coordination was off, his mind swimming in a mix of nerves and the effects of the weed. Instead of the gentle, almost-kiss distance they'd had before, he misjudged and his mouth was suddenly much closer to Shaggy's than he'd planned. The smoke billowed into the space between them, and for a split second, their lips grazed.
They both froze, the air in the van thick with the sudden tension. The music on the radio played on, the cheerful tune a stark contrast to the sudden silence that had fallen over them. Fred's eyes widened, his cheeks flushing hot as he pulled back, coughing and sputtering. "Oh, man," he said, his voice hoarse, "I totally botched that one."
But Shaggy didn't laugh it off. Instead, his eyes searched Fred's, looking for something, anything to tell him if he was reading the situation wrong. The blush on Fred's cheeks was like a beacon in the darkness, telling him that maybe, just maybe, this was a moment that could be more than just friends sharing a smoke. He took a deep breath, his heart racing like a rabbit in a cage.
Shaggy leaned in again, this time with purpose. He took the joint from Fred's trembling hand, took a long, slow drag, and then leaned in so close their noses almost touched. He watched Fred's eyes, the pupils dilated with the high and something else, something deeper. And when he exhaled, the smoke didn't just fill the gap between them—it washed over Fred's face, a warm, intimate embrace that made them both shiver.
This would have to be Fred's call.
Shaggy felt Fred's hand on his shoulder, steadying him as the joint hovered between them. His heart was racing, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum in a quiet room. He could feel the warmth of Fred's breath on his cheek, smell the faint minty scent of his toothpaste. The moment stretched out like a tightrope, each second threatening to snap them back to reality if they didn't make a move soon.
Fred's eyes searched Shaggy's, looking for something—permission, maybe? A sign that this was okay. That the line between friends and something more was blurring and it wasn't just the weed playing tricks on them. The meteor shower above was forgotten as they became the only two points of light in their universe, their eyes reflecting the unspoken question.
Fred leaned towards Shaggy's hand, his lips touching his best friends fingertips as he took a deep, shaky drag before snubbing out the joint on the wall and leaning in with intent.
Their lips met, soft and tentative at first, like a question hanging in the air.
The taste of smoke and mint mingled between them, the warmth of their breaths dancing together as they slowly grew bolder. The hand on Shaggy's shoulder slid up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Shaggy's hand, the one that had been holding the now extinguished joint, found its way to Fred's cheek, his thumb tracing the line of his jaw.
The kiss grew deeper, their mouths moving in a silent dance of exploration. The soft press of their lips was a promise of things unspoken, of feelings that had been simmering just beneath the surface for longer than either of them had dared to acknowledge. Shaggy felt the world around them fade into a haze, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of Fred's mouth and the beat of his heart echoing in his chest.
Fred's hand tightened in Shaggy's hair, pulling him closer as their kiss grew more urgent. They had shared so much over the years—fear, laughter, danger—but never this. It was new and familiar all at once, a sensation that seemed to have been there all along, just waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. A dam, finally under enough pressure to burst.
Shaggy's hand slipped from the back of Fred's neck, tracing down to his shoulder, quickly untying his gaudy ascot, and then down his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. His other hand found its way into Fred's shaggy hair, fingers tangling in the strands as they kissed like they were trying to breathe each other in. The van felt smaller, the universe outside shrinking to the size of their shared breaths.
But reality has a way of crashing back in, especially when you're in the middle of a quiet, dark field with a dog that has a knack for ruining the moment. Scooby's sharp bark pierced the night, echoing through the open van doors. They jerked apart, breathless and wide-eyed. The sound of paws scurrying across the gravel outside was unmistakable.
Fred took a deep breath, his heart racing. "Scooby, what's up bud?" He called out, trying to keep his voice steady. The dog's bark grew more frantic, and he could see the silhouette of his tail wagging violently against the stars.
Shaggy's hand was still on his cheek, and Fred felt the warmth of his touch as he pulled away. They both turned to look out of the van, their eyes adjusting to the darkness once again. Scooby was standing at the edge of the field, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. The tension of their kiss was still palpable in the air, but the urgency in Scooby's bark was undeniable.
Fred cleared his throat, trying to ignore the racing of his heart. "Scooby, come on back, buddy," he called out, his voice a little shakier than he would've liked. But the dog didn't move, his fur raised as he continued to bark, the sound growing more frantic.
Shaggy's hand fell away from Fred's face, and he swiped at his mouth, suddenly self-conscious. "Maybe we should head back, I think the show passed without us."
Fred nodded, the gravity of their situation settling in. They had a lot to talk about, but not here, not now. He opened the van door, the cold air rushing in, and whistled sharply. "Scooby, come here!"
The dog looked over, his ears dropping slightly before he trotted back to the van, tail still wagging in excitement. They piled back into the Mystery Machine, the warmth inside a stark contrast to the chill that had seeped into the night. The engine rumbled to life, the headlights cutting through the dark as they turned onto the deserted road. The silence in the van was deafening, the only sounds the hum of the engine and the occasional snort from Scooby as he settled into his seat.
Fred's eyes remained glued to the road ahead, his mind racing with what had just transpired. He didn't know how to process the kiss, the sudden shift in their friendship dynamics. He glanced at Shaggy out of the corner of his eye, who was staring out the side window, his face unreadable in the shadows.
Shaggy's mind was equally in turmoil. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He had never felt this way about Fred before—or had he? Was it possible he had been in love with his best friend all along and just didn't know it? He couldn't ignore the butterflies in his stomach, the way his heart felt like it was doing somersaults.
He thought back to all the times he'd felt that way—the little moments that had seemed so innocent at the time. Like when Fred would throw his arm around him during a particularly scary part of a horror movie, the way his heart would race not from fear, but from the proximity. Or the way Fred's laugh made him feel all warm and gooey inside, like a perfectly toasted marshmallow. And those times when they'd share a knowing glance, a silent understanding that only they could share—was it more than just friendship?
Shaggy had always brushed it off as just that—a deep bond forged through countless adventures and a shared love for Scooby Snacks. But now, as the van bumped along the road back to Coolsville, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd been fooling himself all along. Every shared joke, every hand held in the face of danger—were they just friends, or was there something more?
He remembered the time they'd been chased by a ghost through a haunted carnival, Fred's hand tight in his own, pulling him to safety. The adrenaline rush had been intense, but the moment they'd stopped running, and Fred had looked back at him, breathless and grinning, Shaggy had felt his heart do a little flip. And when Fred had playfully punched him in the arm, saying, "You're it," he'd felt an odd warmth spread through him, one that had nothing to do with the chase.
There were the stolen glances in the quiet moments, the gentle ribbing that sometimes felt a little too affectionate. Like when Fred would steal his Scooby Snacks and Shaggy would feign anger, but deep down, it was just an excuse to get closer, to touch him. And when Fred would laugh, those crinkles around his eyes, so genuine and carefree—it was like the sun had just risen in Shaggy's world.
The Mystery Machine's tires crunched onto the gravel driveway leading to Shaggy's house, jolting them both out of their thoughts. The headlights cast a ghostly pallor over the familiar scene, the porch light a beacon of homecoming. The engine idled, the quiet purr echoing the unspoken tension in the van.
Fred put the gear in park and turned off the ignition. The sudden silence was deafening. The only sound was the soft tick of the cooling engine and the distant hoot of an owl. Scooby had stopped barking and was now sitting between them, his eyes shifting back and forth as if he could sense the shift in the air.
They sat in the van, the awkwardness thick as the fog that had rolled in from the nearby lake. The porch light cast a warm glow on Shaggy's face, highlighting the uncertainty in his eyes. Fred's heart was still racing, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and excitement. He didn't know what to say, what to do. He just knew he didn't want the night to end.
Shaggy took a deep breath and turned to Fred. "Hey, man," he began, his voice a little too casual. "Do you wanna come in for one last scary movie before you go? You know, just to keep the vibe of the night going."
Fred's eyes searched Shaggy's, looking for any clue as to what was really going on. Was this an invitation to continue the evening, or a polite way to change the subject? He nodded slowly, his voice a little raspy. "Sure, Shag. That sounds like a good plan."
They climbed out of the van, the cold night air hitting them like a slap in the face after the warmth of the van's confines. Scooby jumped out after them, tail wagging as if sensing the tension. They walked up the driveway, the gravel crunching under their feet. Fred felt the weight of the unspoken words between them with every step.
Once inside, Shaggy flipped on the lights, the brightness momentarily blinding them. The living room was a mess, remnants of their usual Netflix binges scattered across the floor—half-eaten pizzas, soda cans, and the ever-present Scooby Snacks. It was comforting in its chaos, a stark contrast to the tumult in Fred's mind.
Shaggy grabbed the TV remote, his hand shaking slightly. "What do you want to watch?" he asked, his voice a little too high-pitched.
Fred shrugged, his eyes scanning the room. "Anything," he said, his voice low. "Just pick something."
Shaggy chose a random horror movie, the kind they'd watched a hundred times before. It played in the background, the sound of screams and creaking doors providing a bizarrely appropriate soundtrack to their current situation. They settled onto the couch, Scooby curling up between them. The dog looked up at them, his head cocked to one side, as if he could feel the shift in their dynamic.
The film played on, but neither of them was watching. They sat side by side, the air charged with the memory of their kiss. Fred's hand hovered over the bowl of Scooby Snacks, his thoughts racing. He didn't know how to navigate this new terrain, but he knew he didn't want to lose his best friend. He took a deep breath and turned to Shaggy. "Hey, Shag," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Shaggy's eyes snapped to his, his thumb frozen mid-air as he paused the movie. "Yeah?"
Fred took a moment, gathering his thoughts. "What was that, back there?" he finally managed to ask.
Shaggy's eyes searched his, the question written clearly across his features. "I don't know," he said, his voice a little shaky. "But I liked it."
Fred's chest tightened, the words a balm to his racing thoughts. He leaned in, closing the space between them once more. "Me too," he murmured, and then their lips met again, this time with a certainty that washed away the awkwardness like a meteor shower cleansing the night sky.