Each house on the block was decorated with bright, colorful lights; eclectic decorations sprouted from the lawns, neither coinciding with the embellishments of the next-door-neighbor except in the spirit of the season. In the midst was a small, two-bedroom house with "only just enough room to fit four bodies, a dog, and not move at all." As such, it was the description Fred Jones used to describe the quaint location to "the gang" when he had first purchased the residency.
Of all the houses on the street, his dwelling was by far the smallest, matching only one other, which was located three houses to the left. His lawn, likewise, had the least amount of decoration, though he did his best to disguise this as he covered the roof with bright, multi-colored bulbs and wrapped the barely-sprouted oak tree in the front yard with lights as well.
"Enjoying the sights?" Fred asked from the kitchen as he fixed a pot of boiling water on the stove.
Jones had spoke these words to long-time friend Daphne Blake as she watched the hazed sights from a frosted window in the living room. He had moved in only seven months prior and Daphne was used to the blank interior walls, the mismatched fabrics of the couch, loveseat, and broken-down recliner. Though it differed entirely from the estate she was raised, it provided a sense of comfort and familiarity that she could not describe in any way other than "home."
"It's beautiful out there. So," Daphne paused in search of a word, "cheerful. I hate not being allowed to put up colored lights."
Fred tried his best to make light of the situation. "If I'm not mistaken a beautiful little girl once told me 'there is a price for beauty.'"
Daphne rolled her eyes, turning her attention away from the display of lights and towards the doorway of the kitchen. "Oh Freddie, It's not beautiful there; just sterile."
With no apt response, Fred allowed the conversation to drift away. He was well aware of the recent happenings at the Blake estate and knew that Daphne needed to speak her mind even if he was unable to relate or respond. Despite this, he was determined to ease her thoughts and allow her a blithe night of relaxation and care.
Leaving the water to heat, Fred made his way out of the kitchen and to the nook at the windowsill where Daphne sat. "So, why did you decide to come over tonight?" Fred's voice was calm, but an honest confusion was evident.
"Freddie, I'm sorry I didn't call," Daphne admitted. "But Jenkins fell asleep and with my mother and father out shopping, it was my only chance to get out. They've had Jenkins guarding me like some precious jewel lately and-"
Fred grinned, a twinkle in his eye, "I don't blame them."
She did her best to refuse a smile, but Fred noticed the right side of her lip curl up in protest either way.
"It's just…I've been cooped up in that house for over a week. They haven't even let me out to the mall once! I love Jenkins, Freddie. But how am I supposed to feel safe if he's asleep?"
"And I suppose walking out of your, now guarded, community at seven o'clock at night, when it's pitch black with the exception of Christmas lights and Menorahs to light your path makes you feel safer?"
Fred hadn't meant to become stirred up, but he was admittedly upset over her irrational choice not to call him for a ride. His voice, unfortunately, began to show this emotion as his volume rose slightly and his gestures became more widely animated.
"I mean, really, Daph. Not only do you leave home at night, but you completely disregard the fact that I don't live in Coolsville anymore. I mean, sure, it's only one city away, but once you cross those railroad tracks it's a perfectly different scenery!"
"It's not that bad, Freddie," Daphne spoke in an attempt to calm his rising temper. She had seen it growing and was getting steadily more upset with him as the moment continued.
"Yes it is, Daphne, and I don't see why you don't take this any more seriously! You could have gotten hurt and no one would have known where to look for you; not me, not Jenkins, not your parents, not Velma, Shaggy, no one! I don't understand you sometimes, Daphne Ann."
"Jeepers, Freddie," Daphne spoke steadily as she rose to meet his stance. "If I wanted to be talked to like that, I would have just told my parents I was leaving."
Having said as much, Daphne took her jacket off the random nail that sprouted from the bachelor's living room wall, which was often used as a make-shift coat hanger. Surprisingly, the redhead did none of this as an over-reaction, nor with anger. If anything, Fred could have sworn she looked more innocent than ever before, her eyes were wide as he lectured her; a look of hurt that reached further than her eyes displayed.
"Daph," Fred uttered as held onto the un-worn half of her jacket before she could place her arm in.
She paused, awaiting his words. They never came.
With that, she shoved her arm into the remaining portion of her jacket and placed her hand on the doorknob. "Goodnight, Frederick," she spoke before twisting the knob.
Frederick. Anytime she used his entire first name, other than introducing him to her father's colleges, was not a good sign. The last time she spoke it, they were fifteen. When he had called the Blake estate, Jenkins told the boy that she had left a message in case he attempted to contact her. In short, it stated her refusal to "acknowledge the existence of one Frederick Herman Jones for an indefinite period." She lasted four days without speaking to him, in which he left approximately one message every waking hour. He vowed he would never let that happen again.
"Wait!" Fred slammed his hand against a top portion of the wooden door less than a second after it had been opened, allowing a small gust of cold wind to pass through.
Daphne looked up at him, surprised that he was going to try once again. She slowly removed her hand off the door, crossed her arms, smiled and waited to hear what he would say.
Relieved to see she was giving him another chance, he stumbled over his words, attempting to say something, anything, in order to get her to stay.
"You can't go outside, Daph."
One eye-brow raised slightly above the other as she listened to him. "And why not?"She questioned.
"It's too cold out," was his matter-of-fact reply.
"It's too cold in," She addressed his demeanor while gazing at the floor.
Fred knew what he had done was wrong. "I'm sorry," he began as he slowly undressed her from the coat and placed it back onto the nail.
"I shouldn't have reacted that way. In fact, I wanted you to have a calm night. This," he paused, obviously upset with himself. "This was exactly what I didn't want to happen. I wanted you to be able to say whatever you wanted to about how you feel. To speak your mind and not have me interject with any sort of…"
His shoulders slumped, not drastically, but enough for her to notice. His gaze, which seemed fixed ever forward with determination and confidence, had fallen with a tilt of his head. "I'm sorry. Now, please, stay."
Daphne paused, but nodded once as he looked up to her. "Alright," she whispered.
More stubborn than a mule, he never quite understood how should could appear so vulnerable and innocent at times such as this. He blamed it on the Coolsville tabloids and even the credible papers. For nearly a decade through their adolescent life, the reports had stereotyped each child. Velma was the brains, Shaggy was the coward and comic relief, Scooby was the mascot, Fred was the confident leader, and Daphne was the leggy vixen.
More accurately, though Fred was the leader, he was also the coward; not of ghosts perhaps, but of almost any real matter in life – loneliness, the possibility of failing, both were constant worries to the boy as a teenager. Velma, she was the confident one; not proud of her I.Q., to her, her mind was no more a talent than a great pianist. Shaggy was certainly the comic relief, and yes, Scooby was their mascot, but they were also the glue which kept the team together. As for Daphne, she was more insecure than any of the others; stubborn, but only as it coincided with her other childish qualities of immediate forgiveness and innocence. Sometimes, he hated how wrong the journalist would write their roles.
Daphne took her spot in the nook at the window sill once more and patted the open space for him to share with her. Once he sat beside her, a small smile finally reaching his lips, she ran a hand through his hair, tilted her head and began to speak.
"I know you worry about me; everyone does. I'm always going to be 'Danger-Prone Daphne.'"
Fred internally cursed the reports once more before listening to her continue speaking.
"But, I am a big girl now." She allowed a light laugh to join her words. "I'll be eighteen soon enough and I'm tired of everyone worrying about me so much. I mean, my parents still treat me like I'm five. Jenkins wouldn't if they didn't make him. But you…Why do you worry so much?"
Fred took her hand away from stroking his hair and simply held it. "Because, we're friends, Daph," was all he felt she would take from him.
Her face fell for a moment, but she hid it well and forced a practiced smile. "You know," she stated, standing up and twirling around the room in search of the remote. "I would have called you to come pick me up if your battery wasn't dead."
Fred smiled, "Well, at least you would have called me. Next time though, call me anyway. I don't like you walking home alone."
"Because we're friends, right?"
Fred hated when she emphasized it. Sure he said it, but she always seemed to emphasize the matter after.
"Yeah," he said pointing to the top of the television set.
Daphne blushed at the obvious position of the remote and went to grab it, all the while internally mumbling of the annoyance of his never-ending friends line. "Why couldn't the tabloids be true?" She often wondered. If they were exactly as the National Exaggerator read, Fred and Daphne would be spending a cozy night in at his place. Upon comprehending this fact, she blushed a deep red.
"You OK, Daph?" Fred questioned, noticing her reddened cheeks. "You're not getting a fever, are you?" he asked as he placed the back of his hand to her forehead, causing only more heat to rush throughout her body by his touch.
She drew away from him quickly. "I'm fine, really. I just…You're right. My mother and father will have a fit when they get back home and Jenkins will probably refuse to take me out anywhere even after all this burglar non-sense dwindles off."
Fred shook his head. "I know you don't want me to scold you. But someone breaking into your house isn't just a small thing, Daph. No one wants you to get hurt. Now, let's be reasonable. It's too late and too cold to go out. Just phone your parents and tell them you're staying the night at my place."
Daphne tilted her head before placing the remote back down on the television. "Yes, Freddie, I'm sure Daddy will love to hear that."
Though the two denied any feeling for one another, both Fred's mother and the Blake's weren't certain if it was best for Daphne to visit Fred's house without the accompaniment of a third party. That never stopped them though.
Fred looked out the window. "Even if they did want to pick you up, there's no way they could make it over here. The snow's nearly seven inches deep. I don't know how you made it out your front door. Besides, our movie started fifteen minutes ago. You have to stay for it, Christmas Even just wouldn't be the same if you didn't."
Daphne ran her tongue over her bottom lip before biting down in apprehension. "Freddie, everyone will talk tomorrow."
"They've always talked. It's what happens when someone as good looking as me is seen with a girl." Fred's mock egotism eased her considerably, though she had to admit, she agreed with his words. A man as good looking as Fred was bound to have reports of scandalous affairs.
She watched as he made his way over to her, picked up the remote, and smugly pointed to the phone, already aware of her decision.
She scrunched her face in a false display of attitude and made her way to the phone, which hung on the wall at the opposite end of the room. While listening to her father's obvious disgruntlement over the situation, she entwined her finger around the loops of the phone's cord. Once her father had finished, she smiled, "I'll see you tomorrow, Daddy." She heard him sigh before replying a goodnight of his own and hanging up soon after.
After untangling her hand from the line, Daphne turned to see that Fred had brought out a few blankets for them to be comfortably warm on the couch. As she sat down beside him she took a moment to watch his features. Year after year, he never failed to be undeniably engrossed by the Christmas film. He caught her staring and winked in phony, yet all too true flirtation as his attention turned away from the show.
"So, how's my Buffalo Girl's daddy doing?" *
"He'll be fine in the morning, once he's sure you haven't done so much as look at me."
"Well, hot dog!" Fred's mood was always considerably brighter when their movie played and Daphne never tired of it.
The two soon began reciting the lines along with the movie until they soon were acting out the scene while seated upon the couch. Eventually, Daphne realized, the look in Fred's eyes was different. They were no longer acting out the scene and if he was, he was certainly the best actor she had ever known.
"I'll give you the moon," he nearly whispered along with the leading man.
Daphne's breath caught in her through as she managed to murmur, "I'll take it."
The lines she had repeated for over ten years were soon forgotten as Fred scooted closer to her and she hadn't the strength to move back. Their faces neared one another in a way that countered every platonic emotion they had ever believed. The sights around grew hazy until the only focus of the moment was each other. Deep warmth filled their senses as any need for blankets and the crackling fire to shield them from the cold had left and the overwhelming power of attraction provided a rich heat. With no more than an inch of space between their lips, the two were succumbed to the unquestionable attraction that had been too long denied.
It was then that a shrill whistle steamed from teapot that Fred had placed on the stove little after she first arrived.
With a jump, Daphne bolted from the couch, her face brightened by a pink haze of blush. "Jeepers. I-uh, I'll get-"
However, before she could move a step closer to the kitchen, Fred's arm darted out and took hold of her wrist. Daphne looked down to see his face with an expression that she had never once seen played upon his face.
"I have waited too long for this; I'm not going to let this moment pass me by." Fred spoke up.
"Frederick Herman Jones," Daphne whispered with an uncertain laugh causing her voice to quiver, "What are you talking about?"
That was a new first. He couldn't remember a time before that she had ever used his first, middle, and last name in the same sentence, let alone consecutively. Despite whatever she meant by it, he knew he only had one option.
Fred swayed his head a fraction of a movement from side to side while smiling up at her. "This is something I should have done a long, long time ago," he replied.
With that he gently, yet passionately guided her form back to her seat on the couch and pressed his lips to hers. It took her a moment, he noticed, to get over the shock until her wide eyes slowly changed their expression and her lids shut softly in an obvious state of bliss. She responded to his touch quickly after and the two stayed with their lips locked for some time.
After the release, Daphne sighed contentedly, a dreamy smile playing on her face before a giggle escaped her lips. "Uh, Freddie?" She asked through glee.
"Yeah Daph?" Fred chimed, a wide grin controlling his face as he watched her expressions.
"Do you want to get the cocoa, or should I?"
He chuckled against her delicate laughter as he disregarded the statement and pulled her closer for another kiss.
*This is a hidden reference. If you get it, I'm happy. If not, at least you read this far. That makes me happy too.
Please, review. Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas!