A/N: My first attempt ever at anything remotely slash. Probably end up being a two-shot.
Introducing Me
They met at a party.
It really was the most cliché meeting you can possibly imagine. Spot was having his weekly let's-all-get-piss-drunk party, which Dutchy really wasn't a fan of, but somehow he'd let Swifty talk him into going this time. After narrowly avoiding being puked on by an already completely smashed Blink, Dutchy found himself hiding out on the back porch.
And that's when they met for the very first time.
It didn't happen like you'd think. It wasn't, like, instant friendship as soon as they set eyes on each other. In fact, thinking back on it, they'll probably both tell you that they had absolutely no intention of interacting, let alone… Well, whatever it was that happened afterwards. At least, that was the sober, rational intention. And, of course, it was a party.
It was the other kid who made the first move, which wasn't surprising at all given Dutchy's objections to being there in the first place. What did surprise him, though, was the reaction it elicited. He didn't exactly see himself as the outgoing type to begin with, his aversion to drunken parties notwithstanding. But whether due to the alcohol, or because it was one of those I-don't-want-to-be-here-anyway-so-might-as-well-make-the-best-of-it situations, he found himself in a rather amiable mood.
"So who dragged you here?"
Dutchy blinked several times before glancing up – okay, he had to admit, the guy was kinda cute, with his dark curly hair and those oversized wire-rim glasses he was wearing… "What?"
Glasses-boy slid a little closer along the porch railing, seemingly hoping the response meant that Dutchy wanted to engage in conversation. "Well, you don't exactly look like you want to be here. So which one of those idiots in there thought you did?"
Running a hand through his blonde hair, Dutchy shook his head in mild amusement. "Ah, Swifty," he replied at last.
"Who?"
"I mean… uh… Brandon," Dutchy fumbled, thrown off momentarily when he remembered that not everybody in Spot's extended circle of friends went by their nicknames.
"Ah." The other guy nodded, then added with a mischievous grin, "Swifty."
Dutchy ducked his head to hide the color he was sure was rising on his face. Real smooth, Dutch, he thought bitterly. Aloud, he said, "If you knew who I was talking about, then why—"
"Because I thought you might look cute when you were flustered. And I was right." The kid let out a slightly nervous chuckle then and held out his hand. "I'm Daniel. Some people just call me Specs, though."
With a shrug, Dutchy returned the gesture. "Ian. But you can call me Dutchy." Then, something clicked. "Wait, you're Specs? The guy that Skitts is always talking about?"
"Skitts… Matt? He talks about me?" Specs asked, sounding slightly surprised. "What does he say?"
"Nothin' much, really," Dutchy replied with another shrug. "Then again, he doesn't say much in general."
Specs nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment, then said, a little hesitantly, "So… How much do you know about me, then?"
"Um…" Dutchy paused, trying to think of what – if anything – specifically Skittery might have said about this guy. Nothing much was coming to mind, other than the fact that Skittery seemed to spend a lot of time with him. "Nothing, actually," he said at last. "Just, you know, you and Skitts hang out."
There was a moment of silence between them before Specs finally turned to him and took a deep breath, seeming for all the world like he was about to say something monumentally profound. "I procrastinate," he said simply.
Dutchy was taken aback for a moment. "What?" he asked.
"I'm an expert at finding ways to waste time."
"Um… Okay?"
Specs sighed as if the point was incredibly obvious. "You don't know me. "
"No, I don't."
"So… I just thought I'd introduce myself."
Dutchy looked confused. "I thought you just did."
Specs shrugged. "I told you my name. But you don't know anything else about me. Which is actually pretty rare with any of Spot's friends. Most people I meet already have some idea of who I am before I actually get to meet them. I think it's important to make the right first impression."
"Oh." He wasn't sure, but somehow it seemed to make perfect sense.
A sound suspiciously similar to a snort escaped from Specs. "You're not much of a talker, are you?"
"Less than you," Dutchy shot back, but he smiled as he said it. They stood there for several moments in comfortable silence, but finally Dutchy ventured to break it. "I don't like songs where the lyrics don't rhyme."
Specs grinned over at him, his eyes lighting up. Dutchy found it somehow comforting. "Really?"
"Yeah," Dutchy went on. "I think it's stupid. I mean, anybody can come up with words to a tune, but the real poetry in it is when they actually go together."
The ridiculous grin on Specs' face widened. "I think that's cute."
"What?" Dutchy asked disdainfully.
"No, in a good way," Specs assured him. After another short silence, he asked, "What else?"
"I dunno," the blonde shrugged. "Uh… I stopped shaving yesterday."
"Why?"
"Tryin' to grow a mustache," he mumbled.
At that, Specs actually laughed. "Okay, that's not cute, that's hot. Not that you can really tell…"
"If you're trying to impress me, you're going about it the wrong way."
"Relax, Dutch, I meant because you're so blonde." Some other thought must have come into his mind then, because suddenly Specs turned a very deep shade of red.
"Oh." Dutchy fumbled for some way to defuse the suddenly awkward situation. "Hey, c'mon, you're turn."
"Um… Okay." Specs thought for a moment, then said, "I don't like cheese."
A rather amused look crossed Dutchy's face for a moment. "What, like at all?"
"Well, I mean, I'll eat pizza. Or, like, sometimes my mom makes those quesadilla things? You know, with the melted cheese in the tortilla?"
"But not on anything else?"
"Nah," Specs said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "I think it smells like nasty old feet." It was Dutchy's turn to blush, and Specs laughed a little. "What?" Dutchy shook his head, embarrassed. "No, really, what?"
"You just… You look really cute, you know… with your nose scrunched up like that. I dunno…" Dutchy shrugged and promptly glanced away.
Letting out a nervous chuckle, Specs self-consciously unscrunched his nose and let his gaze wander skyward. A slightly uncomfortable silence fell between them for a moment before Specs, seemingly incapable of keeping quiet for too long, nodded toward the patch of night sky above them. "Hey, look at that," he said softly.
Dutchy didn't spare him so much as a glance, fearing for his dignity. "What?"
"The moon. It's all… toenail-shaped."
"Toenail-shaped?" Dutchy asked, sounding rather amused. "Sounds to me like you got a thing about feet."
Specs gave him a pointed look, but didn't seem too offended. He responded in a very flat tone, "Yes, Dutch. Toenail-shaped. I like it when it's toenail-shaped." Sure the color was once again rising to his cheeks, Dutchy decided this time to stand his ground. Striking a rather determined pose, he looked the other kid straight in the eye – well, through his glasses. Specs shifted a little nervously and fumbled for something to say, but couldn't seem to tear his gaze away. "Um… It-It's your turn, Dutch."
This time, Dutchy actually smiled. "I like it when you say my name like that," he said without hesitating. His smile returned warmly, he went on with more confidence. "This is really a great way to get to know someone. I like it."
"Good," Specs responded. "Cuz I was kinda hoping we could keep goin'. I wanna know everything there is to know about you."
"Um…" Dutchy let out a nervous laugh. "I mean, I guess. But… Well, just remember, you asked for it."
"Of course." Specs watched him expectantly.
"Okay, well, if you really wanna know, then… here goes."
A/N: Not happy with the ending. But I'm sick of trudging through it. I've been working on this for weeks now. Second part coming soon. Based off the song of the same title. Laugh and I'll bite your head off. Oh yeah, affiliated with newsiesforever(dot)webs(dot)com. Actually, response to a challenge on there.