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"I'M LEAVING, NORVILLE!"
"Like, honey, please, it's not your fault, it's literally mine -"
"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT IT IS! Do you know how HUMILIATING it is when your boyfriend won't touch you for months - MONTHS, Norville! - barely seems to notice you're there half the time, and then finally - finally - when you DO get to do SOMETHING together, he can't even get it UP?!? I can do WAY better than this bullcrap. I don't even know WHY I bothered, it's been nothing but trouble ever since I met you."
"Do you think I planned the whole werewolf thing? I don't go around LOOKING for this kind of stuff, like, I stay AWAY from that stuff as much as I can, but it just - happens! I can't control it!"
"Do you know what 'just happens,' Norville? Your store no longer carrying your favorite brand of snack food 'just happens,' a car accident when you're first learning how to drive 'just happens,' hell, even an accidental boner 'just happens,' except with YOU, apparently."
"I told you I wasn't that kind of guy!"
"A what guy, an 'enjoys fucking' kind of guy?"
"Yeah, exactly!" She reared forward and shoved her finger in his face, and he threw his hands up in defence, shrinking back.
"I thought you were just saying that because every guy says that. Every guy I know says that they 'don't go into a relationship just for sex,' or 'wants to focus on the person instead of the pleasure,' or just likes to 'wait for the right moment,' but no one ACTUALLY means it. What kind of freak are you?"
"I - I'm not, I just... I..."
"Goodbye, Norville."
"No, wait, please, I can explain - "
"It's over. Goodbye, and good riddance."
"Googie, please, like, let's talk about this -"
"I SAID GOODBYE."
"But - "
SMACK!
Silence.
Googie stared at her hand for a moment, as if it had acted of its own accord. Shaggy just stared at the ground, wincing. Why couldn't she have hit him with an open palm? Her nails were way too sharp for a backhanded blow.
He reached up to touch his face, and winced when his fingertips came back wet and red.
Dammit.
Googie finally snapped out of her daze, and stepped forward, reaching out with the weapon itself. "Shaggy, I am so sorry, I -"
"Get out."
Her eyes widened, and she froze. "Wh-what?"
Shaggy lifted his head up from the ground, and she stepped back at the dark look in his eyes. She had never seen him so... determined. So sure of himself, so stern. "Like I said, get out. I don't deserve this kind of shit. I don't deserve being smacked around for parts of me that I can't control. So get out."
"But y-"
"Do you have anything here, still?"
"J-just my gymbag and a couple of personal items. Shaggy - "
He cut her off with a sharp whistle. A familiar jingle-and-thud rolled down the stairs and landed at his feet, spitting an overstuffed sports bag at her feet with a huff.
"H-hey, Scooby."
"Roogie." When she reached out to him, he reared back and bared his teeth. "Rust ro."
"I - okay." She slung the bag over her shoulders, glancing through to make sure everything was there. Talcum powder, her favorite sports bra (she wonder where he'd found it, it had gone missing a few weeks ago...), some half-empty bottles of shampoo, pull-up grips (that she really needed to replace, tryouts were coming soon, and she needed time to break them in properly), a handful of free, unopened samples of a random brand of tampons they handed out at the gym one day, some half-chewed pens... Yup, all there.
"Rey."
"Huh?"
"Your rey, rease."
"My - oh, right." She fished her keys out of her pocket, and struggled for a moment to get it off (stupid key rings, why'd they have to be so difficult?).
Shaggy soundlessly stepped forward, and pulled them away. "Here, let me." A moment later, they were free (how on earth did he do that so quickly? Must be a magician thing) and he handed her set back to her.
"Thanks."
"Like, no problem." They stood there, awkwardly staring at the baseboards and assorted furniture items. Scooby had put himself squarely between the two and was glaring at Googie, while she shifted from foot to foot. Shaggy swayed in place.
"Shag -"
"I'm sorry." Her eyes snapped to his, in confusion.
"But you don't have to - I was -"
"Please?" She quieted, then nodded. "I - I know, it must have been hard, but I-I've just never actually, really, like, felt that way, for - anyone. Maybe I should have been like, a little clearer, I guess?"
She scoffed. "Still doesn't make hitting you right."
No," he agreed, voice softer than she had ever heard it before. "No, it doesn't."
Then: "Like, I hope you find someone who makes you happy. In - in that way, um... I - we'll miss you, right Scoob?"
Scooby crossed his paws. "Reak ror yourself."
"Scooby!"
"No, no, it's okay. He has a right to feel that way. So do you," she added. "Especially you. I didn't think - I've never, I mean, it - I just-" Googie sighed. "I'm so sorry."
He rubbed the back of his head. "It's - ah, forget about it, it's okay."
"Not really."
"Ri agree."
"Scooby, if you can't say something nice, go watch Vincent Price." When he didn't move, Shaggy grabbed for his collar. "Go on, get!"
"Rokay, rokay, resus." He padded out of the room, but not before pointing two paw pads at his eyes and shooting them to hers.
They were alone.
"You know... apart from the intimacy stuff, you really were a good boyfriend. Casual, supportive, funny, understanding. A really good fucking cook. But - "
He pushed gently past her. "Like, you still need something I can't give." The lanky man opened the door, wincing a bit as the moonlight hit him. He still had problems with that, some nights. It must have been a side effect of what he went through; he still tried to stay out of it as much as he could from what she saw.
"Yeah... I do."
"I got it. Besides," he chuckled, self-deprecating, "you're not the first girl who's... reacted like this."
"Well, I hope you find one someday that doesn't." She gave him a pitying look, and hefted her bag up again.
He smiled a sad smile, and looked away. "So do I."
"Bye, Shaggy."
"Like, bye. And good luck at the finals," he added, as they stepped onto the rickety porch. "You'll pummel everyone there."
"I need to try out first before I get anywhere close, you know."
"Eh, you'll get in, I know it. If you can stare down Dracula and come out on top, then like, you can definitely out-cross-lift those pansies."
"Crossfit, you doof." Googie reached out to playfully shove him, and halted halfway through, letting her arm fall to the side. He pretended not to notice.
"Whatever. Just - go be awesome, or something, okay?"
"You too, Shag." They stood on the porch steps, him above, she below. "Hey. Shag?"
"Like, yeah?"
She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it, thinking better of it. Instead, she stepped up again, and gently pulled his face down to hers. She kissed the bruise and kissed him properly, then turned and jogged off to her car parked over the curb, throwing up a wave and a glance as she left.
He was standing there watching, shoulders slumped, a half-twitch smile on his lips and a heavy look in his eyes.
He was still there when she turned the corner in her rickety old Volkswagen.
And just like that, it was over.
~
Shaggy slipped into the house, closing the door with a quiet click, and promptly slumped against it. His head thudded against the polished wood in an even three-quarter tempo, and he might have gone on to reenact Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata (Oh, the delicious and painful irony - still needed chocolate sauce though) had Scooby not intervened.
"Raggy, ro."
"Like, Raggy yes." The dog rolled his eyes and pulled his owner away. Honestly, even if it was a one-time thing, violence was no excuse (unless it was agreed on in a contract, according to some websites, but he was still skeptical of that, and besides the point, his friend certainly had NOT had one of those, so it was a moot point overall). The Great Dane pushed him to the sofa, and left to grab some food.
As he was adding pickles and marinara sauce to the cookie bowl, he heard Shaggy speak into the couch. "Maybe I am broken, after all."
The dog stood up with a look that spoke volumes of his absolute embodiment of "done with this shit" to their tacky tomato curtains, and raced into the living room to tackle his owner. He bounced on his ribcage until it creaked beneath - a good sign - before Shaggy managed to turn over and sit up, gasping for air.
"What - wheeze- was THAT for, Scoob?"
"You're reing a ridiot." Shaggy crossed his arms.
"Well, excuuuuse me for not, like, immediately getting over a break-up that happened less then five fucking minutes ago, pal."
"Rhe rit you!"
"Like, so have a lot of other girls! At least she only hit me once, and it was emotionally driven, and -"
"Roesn't ratter. Rill rit you. Also, rust recause rhe only rit you ronce, roesn't rake it rokay."
"Like, I know, Scoob. But I can't really hold a grudge, you know that. Not for long, anyways."
Scooby slapped an ice pack against his face and ignored the protested 'Ow!' he received. "Rhen act rike you row runtil you relieve it, you rig rummy."
"That's how I was able to end it to begin with. I'm getting a lot better at it - right?"
Scooby sighed. "Reah, rhat's rue. And ri'm roud of you, reven if you rare a rummy." Shaggy nodded, a little more relaxed than before - then he got a look in his eyes that Scooby (unfortunately) recognized all too well.
Phooey. Here come the puns.
"Now c'mon, I don't drink THAT much, Scooby Doo." He giggled, as he smushed the ice pack against his skin. "Besides, you know I'm more of a whiskey kind of guy - given how often I take WHISKS in dangerous situations."
Scooby gave him the same look he gave the curtains, and stormed off the couch.
"Rat's rit. Ro rookies ror you."
"Aw, come on, Scoob, how else are we," he laughed, clutching his aching ribs, "how else do you think we get all of our cooking supplies? I take lots of WHISKS on our cases and it pays off-f-f-f-hahaha! No wait, like, come back! Scooby!"
"Rope."
"Oh, come on, that one was good!"
"Runs are only runny rhen RI ray them. Rot you. Runs rie rhen you ray them, Raggy."
"In that case, call me the Re-Animator, because THEY LIVE AGAIN!" Shaggy threw himself against Scooby and hung against him, like a backpack off a cliffside. "I steal the secret of life and death and puns, and here you are trysting around with a bubble-bowled cookie jar. You're not even a second-rate comedian!"
"Roh rother. You're ridiculous, Raggy."
"And like, you're a meatball, what of it? WAH!" Shaggy fell to the floor, and Scooby continued on into the kitchen, feeling relieved when he heard footsteps shuffle and skitter against the tile floor behind him.
"Rothing rood rappens rhen you ruote Rovecraft, Raggy."
"Au contraire, my fine friend," the beatnik laughed, as he pried open the fridge, "EVERYTHING good happens when I quote Lovecraft. Oh, whipped cream or caramel?"
"Mmm, roth. Roth ris rood." Shaggy grinned, and nudged the door shut with his hip. "Row, rhut up and reat your rookies and pickles."
"Like, aye aye, captain." For a few moments, the usual flurry of food occurred, the sounds of scraping and whooshing filling the silence as they created even stranger concoctions than old Howard had ever imagined, before settling into the snack. Then, a softly spoken question, timid and uncertain:
"You really mean it, Scooby Doo?"
"Rhat?"
"That I'm not -"
"You are ras you are, and ro rone relse rhould rake you reel rad ror it. Rif you ron't ranna rave rex, you ron't reed ro. RI rike you rust as you are." Shaggy sniffled back
"Thanks, pal. Like, you're the best friend anyone could have."
"Rof rourse ri am. RI'm amazing. Rheheeheeheehee!" Shaggy smiled wide, and relished in the moment while it lasted, before he dipped back into the post-breakup blues again (Hmm, relish, that sounded good actually...).
"RI rould ro rith rewer runs, rhough."
Oh, he was going to PAY for that one. Shaggy grinned, grimaced at the shifting of bones and flesh, then grinned again with sharper fangs as he whirled around to face his buddy.
Scooby smelled the change start, and immediately regretted saying anything. "Ruh roh."
Then he yowled as a massive ball of fur and fangs and fluff tumbled into him, knocking the food to the floor. In a moment, the two canines were distracted by the floor fiesta, and spent some time slurping everything up. But then they came nose-to-nose over a spilled bowl of marshmallows and hot sauce, and mischief filled the bigger pup's eyes. Scooby did the only smart thing in that situation that he could.
He barrelled through the kitchen door (taken some of it with him), and led a merry chase through the woods, pursued by an oddly harmless werewolf that looked far less frightening when it was bounding on all fours with a tongue dangling out and occasionally hitting it in the eye. But Scooby didn't mind.
He was pack, after all. And what else mattered but the safety and happiness of the pack?
(Shaggy enjoyed playing about, too - but considerably less so when he woke up naked halfway up a tree the next morning, and had to wait for Scooby to grab a pair of pants from the house, some several miles away.
But it was totally worth it, to defend his precious puns).