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He wanted him so badly. He wanted to tell him so badly.
But Shaggy Rogers was always afraid.
It was an insurmountable truth.
Just like his crush on that cute blonde jock whose head always seemed in the clouds.
Shaggy began conquering his fear by not knowing he was. After all, confiding in his two best friends at their lunch table was his form of therapy.
“I knew you did. It was SOO obvious!”, Daphne Blake lightly teased, but one could tell that she was excited by the twinkle in her green eyes. Her purple polished nails got a good filing while Shaggy couldn’t help but bite his.
“Oh man! Is it THAT obvious?”, Shaggy gulped out loud and looked all around him. Eyes everywhere… Danger was always out there.
“Hard to believe you’re a theatre kid sometimes, ya know?”, Daphne contemplated as she took a sip from her espresso cup, and sketched another design idea for the school’s production of Murder On The Orient Express.
“An audience full of strangers I can take. They’re not him, and I’m not me. I’m not exposed when I’m on stage. But when I’m next to him I feel like I could explode.”, Shaggy explained, eating his third hamburger. His appetite was even wilder recently thanks to the emotional blender he was going through.
Scooby finished typing his latest work E-Mail, and, lowering his reading glasses, he offered some consolation. “Rred ris a rice ruy. Reven rif re rejected rou, re rouldn’t rmbarrass rou.”
“I know, Scoob, I know. Doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”, Shaggy stated, and he sighed. Daphne and Scooby shared concerned looks. Shaggy worried was one thing, but he was never depressed.
But it had been slowly eroding away at him: He rarely made corny jokes, he rarely sang out loud (to the reprieve of many ears). He didn’t even make exciting food combos, preferring to just eat and get it over with.
“This really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”, Daphne asked, and Shaggy nodded. “He’s just… So strong. So big. So brave.”
“…So not like me.”
Daphne bit her pen in concentration, and Scooby too scratched his chin in thought. The two were already on the same wavelength: Find a way to get Shaggy to talk to him.
But when someone is scared to a stop by that very idea, how can one figure out this conundrum?
“Hey, Norville, right?”
Shaggy looked up and, eyes widening, jumped onto Scooby’s arms, who jumped onto Daphne’s arms. She jumped nowhere, she enjoyed the challenge of lifting two very heavy chickens.
Looking down at them (but only literally, not figuratively) was the object of Shaggy’s affections and the leading cryptozoologist (and only cryptozoologist) at school: Fred Jones.
His perfectly kept blonde hair reminded Shaggy of the finest Dijon mustard; his fashion sense was a weird mishmash of middle aged men clothing items, but Shaggy liked odd combinations that worked somehow; and his smile glittered like the sparkles in sparkling water.
Shaggy had odd ways of admiring people, but that was who he was. Sadly, being himself wasn’t really gonna land Fred, now was it?
“Um… The number you’ve called is disconnected. Please send a message after the beep. Beeeeep.”, Shaggy blurted out in panic, before hiding his face behind a framed photograph of himself. Scooby just smiled sheepishly, and Daphne hoped that Fred really was as nice as Shaggy described him.
Fred seemed to be; he simply laughed, a little too much, perhaps. “You’re such a jokester, Norville!”
“Shaggy, actually. He prefers that.”, Daphne informed, and Shaggy tried not to look at Fred’s perfect smile..
“Shaggy?”, Fred responded in that little accent of his, Shaggy tried to deflect a blush from hearing his name said so… Uniquely. “I like that name…”, he drifted off for a second, before snapping back to himself, seemingly looking off to the distance and listening to directions?
Daphne looked over the same direction, but she saw no one.
“Sorry, where was I?”, Fred asked, scratching his chin in deep thought.
“Making me into a gay mess?”, Shaggy thought.
“Oh, right! Doi!”, Fred said, shaking his head in good humor. “I was… Well… How do I say this? A friend of mine and I are thinking of investigating this creepy museum.”
Daphne giggled, loving the idea. “Breaking into a museum? You and your friend have a curious definition of hanging out.”
Scooby and Shaggy agreed: Going to a creepy museum? Who would ever want to do that?!
“Well, as a cryptozoologist, when I hear there’s a haunted suit of armor stealing paintings, I’m there on the double!”, Fred informed, and Shaggy couldn’t help but sigh wistfully. Of course Fred was dashing off to stop some evil monster from stealing paintings. He was like some knight of the round table, and Shaggy would have wanted nothing more than to be swept off his feet by him.
“Anyhow, I was just thinking… If Shaggy… That is, if all of you would want to come with? We could use more hands and legs, and, well, it’ll be fun! I mean, if you don’t want to, it’s totally ok!”, Fred stumbled over his words, clearly embarrassed over something.
Shaggy truly wanted to come. Not just for Fred, he didn’t like the idea of some monster stealing art that was for everyone.
But Shaggy was too afraid to do such a thing. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He was too afraid, he was…
“Not good enough. Just say it.”, Shaggy thought to himself, and he prepared to let Fred down when…
“Oh we’d love to!”, Daphne answered, and Shaggy choked on the drink he didn’t have. Scooby began to whimper. Fred raised an eyebrow.
“You sure? Your dog seems worried.”, he said, scratching behind Scooby’s ear. “Not everyone can break into a museum. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Shaggy couldn’t help but smile at that. He was also understanding?
“Oh for sure, Freddie!”, Daphne said, and Fred was surprised by how quickly he had earned a nickname from Daphne. “It sounds like it would be super dangerous, so I am totes in! And I’m sure my friends here would love to join once they think it over.”
Fred seemed uneasy: He really didn’t want to impose this on Shaggy. “Just know that they don’t have to come. I would like it if he… They did, but they don’t have to!”
Shaggy frowned at himself: Was he such a coward that when the boy of his dreams was practically asking him out he was gonna chicken out?
Daphne always told him that he was a lot more than he thought he was. Maybe this would be terrifying, but it was a chance.
Shaggy would give himself a chance.
“Wait, Fred!”, Shaggy said, dropping Scooby from himself onto the ground and accidentally bumping into Fred. He was like a wall. Fred got a little flustered, as did Shaggy.
“I… I… I…”, Shaggy barely choked out, before closing his eyes and rousing his courage. “I could try.”
“…Swell! See ya tonight!”, Fred said, and he offered his hand towards Shaggy, averting his eyes for some reason.
Shaggy cautiously shook it.
“So… That was wild.”
Shaggy almost laughed, but he stifled it, as the van bumped up and down the road back home, away from the museum where they had just stopped a crooked art dealer dressed like a nightmare knight.
God, those words shouldn’t be strung together, but here they were, horribly bound in front of his eyes.
“Yeah, it sure was!”, Fred replied, but it was clear that any other words he wanted to utter were trapped in his throat.
Shaggy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, Daphne, Scooby and this girl named Velma Dinkley Shaggy didn’t quite understand but sort of liked all asleep on their seats.
Fred was in front, driving, and Shaggy was in back. Big shock. Shaggy was too afraid to even sit next to him.
But he couldn’t stare at his face, at how clearly disappointed he would be. After all, Shaggy was so scared he couldn’t stop running away, hiding, panicking.
God he was such a fuck up. How did he ever think that Fred could ever like him, let alone…
“Um… Shaggy?”, Fred began, and Shaggy already felt the knife twist further. What the heck, let’s just get it over with.
“Yeah… Fred?”
“Freddie. You can call me Freddie.”, Fred suddenly said, almost a little too enthusiastically.
“…Why?”, Shaggy asked, and Fred, who was fortunate his red face could not be seen from the front seat, coughed out his response.
“My… Friends call me Freddy.”
Shaggy refused to set himself up. If he raised his hopes, he’d just crash down on the ground. Every time he tried, he failed. Why would now be any different?
Why would Fred settle for less?
“…Thanks, Fred, but… You don’t have to act nice with me.”
Fred was taken aback by this, and he got worried: had he said something mean to Shaggy? He had a tendency to get a little bossy when it came to his cryptozoology… God, he must have! Even when he liked someone he managed to lead it astray.
“Oh man, I’m sorry, did I act like a jerk to you? I’m really sorry, I had no idea…”
“What? No! No!”, Shaggy was quick to reassure, and Fred stopped holding his breath. “…It’s just…”
Shaggy looked out the window of the van. A rainstorm had started, and the thunder made him jump. Lightning can strike more than once… It can fry a person… Persons… People important to Shaggy. Like the Knight… The Knight could have killed them all if he wanted, and…
“…I’m sorry I was such a chicken.”
Fred would have stopped the car to make his point, but he didn’t want to wake the others up. He grimaced. He had been told by Daphne when they had split up (he was too afraid to ask Shaggy to come with him) that Shaggy was… Chronically afraid of everything.
Fred felt for him. He truly did. He didn’t mind someone being afraid.
Fred knew what he had to do, but what if he took a step too far? Would this kill his chances?
Suddenly, lightning crashed, Shaggy jumped again and his heart began to beat like then, like when she got hurt, because of…
And then the silent sobbing began. It was too much, he couldn’t handle all this…
Fear.
Fred had zero hesitation now.
“…Shaggy…”
Shaggy, trying to regain his composure, embarrassed at his minor panic attack, looked above and saw a hand stretched from the back.
He could barely register it, but it was there. Inviting, welcoming…
No, this was a dream. It couldn’t be… It was just a dream…
“It’s ok. You’re not in danger. I promise.”
Fred’s words were so calming, so reassuring…
Shaggy slowly held the hand. Fred squeezed, and Shaggy felt so much warmth radiate from his hand. Like a suit of armor coating him from disaster.
“…I get scared too, ya know. Everyone does. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Shaggy looked down, still feeling like a failure. “I don’t know how to be like you.”
“…Then I’ll be brave for the both of us.”
Shaggy looked up at that simple but immediate gesture…
And smiled.
“Like, thanks, man.”
Suddenly, Shaggy realized that he was holding Fred’s hand (he had no idea Fred’s blush was bigger) and that…
“…What are you afraid of?”
“…I was afraid of… Talking to… To you…”, Fred trailed off, and Shaggy’s eyes widened.
…
He crossed the threshold and squeezed back. “Well, then… I can do the talking for both of us, if that helps. I’d be more than happy to talk… Even in some spooky place.”
“…It could also be the malt shop this weekend. If you want to.”
“…I do.”
Fred smiled gratefully. “…Thanks.”
Shaggy smiled in response. “Right back at ya.”
And they held each other for the rest of the drive.