Author Note: Okay, before I jump into this chapter, I have some very important notes and shout-outs:

- First and foremost, this chapter would never have existed if it weren't for my brilliant and talented friend, Complikated! When I wrote Chapter 1, she read it and suggested I write this chapter based on Erica's fangirling over all things "Fraphne," and so this chapter was consequently born, and I couldn't be more pleased with it. Thank you, Kate, for being so amazingly and consistently supportive, and for giving me this idea for chapter 7! I really hope you enjoy it; this one is dedicated to you, my friend!
- Other shout-outs go out to Complikated (again!) and SpongeAddict, who shared some funny Reddit user names with me for the purpose of this chapter (it'll make sense soon!) Therefore, I cannot take the credit for all of the user names you are about to see in this chapter, so they deserve a lot of credit. Thank you both for your friendship and your help with this chapter!

Finally, I just want to apologize to Fred Jones; I'm sorry I always put you through the ringer in all of my fics, please don't hate me.

Please read and review if you feel so inclined! - imacliche

Chapter 7

Fred is a colorful kaleidoscope of emotions as he lies in his hotel bed, cocooned tightly in three thin blankets. He is crackling, blue electricity from the memory of Daphne's hands in his own; he is pale pink and tingly and warm, the lyrics to "Fake Empire" packed tight beneath his skin; he is gold and radiant, glowing and buzzing like the scone lights studded along the tunnel walls.

And he is midnight sky black, numb with exhaustion, but no matter how hard he tries, his body refuses to submit to the tide of sleep that tugs at his ankles.

In the other bed just a few feet away from his own, Shaggy is similarly tucked beneath layers of bed sheets, with Scooby curled at the end of the bed, but unlike Fred, the two sleep soundly, their loud snores rivaling the screech of a bulldozer. Every time Fred closes his eyes, Scooby or Shaggy (or worse yet, both) snort or murmur loudly in their sleep, jarring Fred abruptly from his reverie. He thinks he's snatched maybe a total of twenty minutes of sleep, and even then it was fitful, and he was restless; his dreams consisted of being chased by a giant helicopter, which he realized upon waking were actually Shaggy's snores. And ever since he's been jerked awake from that dream, he just can't manage to slip back into a peaceful slumber.

Or maybe the real reason Fred can't sleep is because a shiver ghosts down his spine whenever he thinks of the woman in the damn painting hanging above his bed; she is still singeing him with her sweltering gaze, and even though Fred can't see it, he knows she's still watching him.

Or maybe it's time to stop beating around the bush and admit that the reason he can't fall asleep isn't because of his friends' snores (he's shared a myriad of hotel rooms with Shaggy and Scooby, so he knows what to expect by now, and he's even invested in ear plugs for this very purpose) nor the woman in the painting, but someone else entirely – namely, Daphne.

After their spontaneous drive, Fred had driven them back to the hotel, a comfortable silence blanketing the van; the moments following the tunnel song escapade had felt as fragile and vibrant as stained glass, so Fred feared that uttering even a single word would startle Daphne, causing her to flinch and retreat inside of herself. He was halfway back to the hotel before he realized that her hand was still intertwined with his; he hadn't initially noticed because the gesture felt like the most natural thing in the world, as organic as breathing, but the second he noticed it he froze, holding his breath as his skin iced over with goose bumps.

"Be still," he whispered to himself.

His mind flipped to a memory from his childhood, when an orange striped Tabby cat slunk lazily towards Fred while he and his mother sat on the grass cross-legged, enjoying a picnic one afternoon in the park. The cat rubbed her head against Fred's thigh and knocked her forehead into his knees repeatedly before she circled around and curled into a ball on his lap, and Fred's heart fluttered at the same moment his mother whispered vehemently, "Be still!"

Be still.

Sitting beside Daphne silently with her hand entwined with his hand forced Fred to be still for fearing of scaring her, and it took everything in him just to remain unmoving and impassive as cars and buildings and trees flickered past them outside the window. He chanced one glance at Daphne and noted the dreamy, faraway expression in her eyes; had she been thinking about the song lyrics? The tunnel driving experience? Him? He would have given anything to vocalize these questions and hear her reply, but all too soon the Mystery Machine rolled to a stop in the hotel parking lot, and Fred clocked the exact second Daphne came crashing back to her senses because she visibly baulked before she disentangled her hand from Fred's. Then she turned to Fred, a soft blush pooling in her cheeks, before she leaned towards him and enveloped him a hug; he caught a faint whiff of her apricot scented shampoo as the nerves flickered beneath his skin like butterfly wings.

"Thank you," Daphne breathed as she withdrew from his embrace before she offered him a final smile and slipped out of the Mystery Machine, running back to the hotel room she shared with Velma while Fred sat in the driver's seat, drowning in his own thoughts until the lights in the hotel parking lot blinked off and immersed him in total darkness.

That was about three hours ago, and now Fred plays the past few hours on repeat, like a movie reel that's snagged, cycling the same scene over and over again. Once he was back in his hotel room alone with his thoughts, he sat on his bed and listened to "Fake Empire" once more before Shaggy and Scooby returned, and even though the song sent a jolt of electricity through his body and caused his heart to thump, it wasn't the same effect as when he had been driving alongside Daphne, barreling down the freeway; somehow, the magic of the song truly was bound up in the entire experience, as Daphne had predicted. When the two of them blasted the song and hurtled through the mouth of the tunnel, he had understood why the fictional characters in The Perks of Being a Wallflower felt infinite, because that was exactly how he had felt, too: infinite, like the freeway stretched before them, or like the stars stitched in the midnight sky. Consequently, Fred is still idling on the high of being with Daphne, and at this rate, he isn't going to get any sleep for the next three nights.

As Fred's thoughts continue to unfurl, the lyrics to "Fake Empire" rush through his head: "Turn the light out, say good night, / no thinking for a little while." Those two lines were what attracted Fred to this song in the first place; after a long day of solving mysteries he always craved the warm sheets of his bed, and he looked forward to the inevitable sleep that would eventually wash over him like a tidal wave. And truthfully, didn't everyone relish crawling into bed to mute the all the voices in their head for just a few hours? Some days, when things were too much for Fred and he felt overwhelmed by mysteries and ghosts and clues and even his feelings for Daphne, the best part of his day was when he could swaddle himself with blankets and close his eyes for seven hours and just forget about everything while he slept, but the thoughts just won't stop swirling and tumbling in his head tonight. "No thinking for a little while…" – Well, that surely isn't going to happen anytime soon.

Fred tries to tuck The National and iridescent tunnel lights and Daphne into the recesses of his mind by focusing on something neutral, such as the setlist they've created for the upcoming concert, but even this causes his mind to snag like a sweater unraveling on a nail; he realizes that one glimpse of their playlist reveals that all of the songs are romance-free. That's not to say they're a light, airy blend of vanilla tapioca pudding, because they're still quality songs, but it's interesting how there isn't a single song (aside from their original of course) that contains any sign of a pinning or unrequited love. Had both he and Daphne done this on purpose, or was it purely coincidence? If it was on purpose, then what was it that had scared Daphne into resisting songs that had any trace of romance? Was it the kiss they shared on Talent Star last week, or the awkward collision they had shared during Elliott's dress rehearsal? Or was it the way Erica and every other person who owned a television exhibited the urge to squeal and swoon over all things Fraphne?

Fraphne.

Fred's eyes flap open as he lurches forward; it feels as though he's been struck by a bolt of lightning as he recalls Erica and Maddie the librarian carrying on about the Fraphne hash tag on Twitter and Reddit and – what was the other site called again? Fred scratches his head, trying to snatch the name of the website with all the art, but it alludes him. He can't recall the last time he had been so embarrassed that he felt as though his cheeks were aflame with every possible shade of red. The worst part of it all was that Fred wasn't even aware of any of this until Erica had informed everyone, and he had no idea what exactly was even lurking on those internet forums, and –

But I could find out what's on those forums, though.

The thought takes root in Fred's mind and blooms almost instantly as his eyes fall upon the laptop Daphne was using earlier when they were writing their setlist; she had forgotten to take it with her when they were done, so Fred kept it on the entertainment center next to the television set so he didn't forget to return it to Velma tomorrow. He bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicker towards Shaggy and Scooby, who are still nestled comfortably in their bed, snoring away loudly. The hotel room is rather tiny, but to reach the laptop Fred will have to slither out of bed and move stealthily and quietly towards the computer, without waking up Shaggy or Scooby. If either of them wake and see him moving towards the laptop, or worse yet, catch him flipping through the internet, how will he explain what he's looking at in the middle of the night? He could always lie and say it's research for the mystery, but none of the gang have ever traded sleep for clue hunting (well, except for maybe Velma on occasion), and Fred typically likes his sleep, so it would be fairly suspicious of him to try that excuse now.

The other issue is that the glow of the laptop screen may very well disturb Shaggy or Scooby from where Fred is using it on his bed, so Fred briefly considers grabbing it and taking it somewhere else, but the hotel hallways are dark, and the community dining room was roped off when he returned from his drive with Daphne earlier, so there really aren't any options other than his room. He could sneak it into the bathroom and lock the door behind him, but that's risky too; Shaggy or Scooby could wake and feel the urge to use the restroom, which is common for both of them, and then Fred would have to somehow explain why he's sitting on the cold tiled floor with a computer on his lap at three in the morning. If that happens, his excuse of looking at clues for the mystery definitely won't fly; if he were simply investigating clues, then why would he need to do that in secret, completely removed from Shaggy and Scooby? The guys would probably think he has some sort of embarrassing addiction that he's trying to hide, and then Fred will have to stammer his way through an endless plethora of questions that he won't be able to answer.

Fred exhales, his breath ragged, and he flops back onto his bed. Even though there are so many loopholes and different ways this could explode in his face, the desire to look at those forums still nibbles him. But would the payoff even be worth it? What is the advantage of knowing what's on those discussion boards and those art forums? There really aren't any tangible benefits that Fred can think of aside from simply having the knowledge of what people are referencing if someone were to bring it up again, but that reason alone consumes Fred, and it's enough to make him vibrate with nervous energy and toss and turn in his bed; if the laptop had a voice, he is certain that it's taunting, "Come and see what I've got to show you, Freddy!" He knows he should ignore this impulse and try to sleep once more, especially since he and Daphne have dress rehearsals in the morning followed by a full day of fanning out across Goose Lake to interview citizens regarding the monster, but this need grips him and reverberates throughout his body like ripples on a pond; no, there is no way he is going to get any sleep until he sees what's on these websites with his own two eyes. Fred is just going to have to take a chance and hope that Shaggy and Scooby remain sleeping for the next several minutes while he pokes around online.

Fred shoves the covers back slowly, ever so slowly, training one eye towards the laptop and the other towards Shaggy and Scooby; Shaggy rests on his left side, facing Fred, his mouth gaping open as he unleashes snore after snore, and Scooby has shifted to rest on his back, with all of his paws sticking straight up in the air. It takes a full two minutes for both of Fred's feet to even touch the floor, and when they do he pauses, blinking at Shaggy and Scooby once more before he begins his slow crawl toward the laptop.

"This is it," he tells himself as he watches Scooby and Shaggy. "As soon as I stand and begin to walk over to the entertainment center, there's no turning back."

Fred counts to ten silently before he pushes his hands against the bed and rises gradually, his eyes never leaving Shaggy and Scooby, who are frozen with sleep. It takes a full minute before he is standing up straight, and he flinches when his bed groans loudly, but Shaggy and Scooby don't even budge. Fred tells himself this is his last chance to bail and save face, but he inhales and ignores his galloping heart before he carefully places his left foot in front of him. Luckily, the floor doesn't squeak, so he hastily drags his right foot forward and pauses, waiting for the cadence of Shaggy and Scooby's snores before he pulls his left foot closer to the entertainment center.

This pattern stretches on for at least ten minutes; with every sluggish step Fred flinches, expecting to see Shaggy or Scooby to jerk awake, but he only hears the explosion of snores resounding throughout the room. There is one moment when Scooby's paw twitches as he sleeps, but it's very subtle, and Fred waits an extra minute before he swings his leg in front of him. It's painstakingly slow and cumbersome, but when Fred finally has the laptop in his hands, he exhales a puff of relief. He still has to spin around and plod back to his own bed, but for some reason it feels as though a portion of the most difficult part of this risk has been taken care of now that the computer is in Fred's possession.

"Like, mom, why do you have to wake me up early on a Saturday," Shaggy moans.

Adrenaline surges through Fred's veins and his heart knocks wildly against his chest; he rotates towards Shaggy with an excuse as to why he is clutching the laptop ready to roll off his tongue, but Shaggy isn't actually awake; he is merely murmuring in his sleep, which is evident from the way his eyes are scrunched closed and the snores continue to erupt from his chest. Fred feels as though he could collapse with relief, but he grits his teeth resolutely and plows forward, trudging carefully and cautiously as he watches Shaggy and Scooby in his peripheral vision.

"I think I'm actually going to pull this off," Fred thinks giddily. "I think I'm going to make it back without them even noticing – "

And then he somehow stumbles as he's placing his right foot in front of him, and before he can even stop himself, he crashes onto the ground with a resolute THUD, the laptop smacking the carpet so loudly that it might as well have been a hammer pounding against a sheet of metal. Fred squeezes his eyes shut as the sweat prickles his skin and his blood rushes to his ears, and he holds his breath as he waits for Scooby or Shaggy to inevitably startle from their dreams. But when two minutes pass and Fred hears only the drone of Shaggy and Scooby's snores, he shakes his head incredulously as he bites back a peal of laughter.

Fortunately, Fred's fall deposited him right beside his bed, so he places the laptop at the foot of the bed gingerly and scrapes himself off the ground, all while avoiding the watchful eyes of the woman in the painting, and then he slowly lowers himself onto the bed. He winces and freezes when his bed creaks in protest, but even still, Shaggy and Scooby remain motionless, gripped with sleep. Fred has to bite his tongue just to resist the urge to laugh as he ponders, "How are Shaggy and Scooby such heavy sleepers?! I guess that's what hours of living in constant anxiety and terror day in and day out will do to you."

Fred feels the knots in his shoulder loosen a bit as the tension melts from his body slowly. Grabbing the laptop was surely the hardest part, and based on how Shaggy and Scooby hardly stir, he is certain he should be able to find what he needs online for the next twenty minutes or so without being caught. But when he swings the laptop screen upward and flicks on the power button, the laptop bursts out with a shout of music at top volume, causing Fred to squeal and curse under his breath as he swivels away from Shaggy and Scooby so that the light from the laptop and the music doesn't catch their attention. Scooby's paws tremble so very subtly, and Shaggy begs his mom to allow him to continue sleeping for just another twenty minutes at the laptop's outburst, but otherwise, the guys remain blissfully unaware of Fred, and a minute later the rhythm of their boisterous snores filters throughout the room again. Fred sighs, relieved to have dodged yet another bullet while also cursing himself for being too comfortable; he'll have to be more careful while he has the laptop. He dims the light as much as he possibly can before it inhibits his ability to see, and he mutes the volume on the speaker just in case he stumbles upon a loud advertisement or accidently opens a video on YouTube; the monitor was probably at full blast because Daphne had looked up some guitar tabs for Fred when they were planning their playlist earlier, and it was a factor he hadn't even considered until it came back to slap him in the face.

The next hurdle Fred has to jump over is the password, which is required in order to even access anything on the computer. Velma had it installed after it was stolen during one of their mysteries a few months back, and even though the police returned it to the gang untouched, it had sent shock waves throughout the friends, who feared what would have happened if a villain had a record of all of their notes from present and past cases. Fred scrunches his face, as though doing so will recall the password, and luckily the memory of Shaggy and Scooby requesting a specific password bubbles to his mind. With a flick of his wrist, Fred types "ScoobySnacks123456!" in the blinking box, recalling how Velma had tactfully added the sequence of numbers and exclamation point as a safety measure: "It's possible a villain or a hacker may guess the password itself, but the odds are diminished drastically when you add in all the numbers and the exclamation point, not to mention the capital letter on 'Scooby snacks,'" Velma had explained patiently.

The window fades after Fred punches in the correct password, and it is replaced with the laptop's home screen backdrop photo, which is a photo of the entire gang taken after they solved a case in Florida. Scooby is wedged between Shaggy and Velma, who are resting their hands on his neck, and Fred stands beside Shaggy. Daphne is tucked against Fred's side and his arm is draped casually around her shoulders, as if it was the most effortless, normal gesture in the world. Fred remembers how the journalist who took the photo for the gang had handed Velma her cell phone back after snapping the photo, and the journalist had flashed Fred and Daphne a smile before warmly stating how they made such a cute couple. Even the memory of this quick remark is enough to cause Fred's heart to beat erratically; how had Daphne felt when the reporter had told them that? Fred's mind spins back to last week, when Daphne had stammered and murmured about how they weren't a cute couple when Mel Gibson incorrected guessed that the two were dating. Exasperated, Fred tries to ignore the voice in his head, screaming and reminding him that this is one of the many reasons why he has yet to mention his feelings to Daphne; if Daphne hadn't reciprocated her feelings even just a little bit, then why was she so adamant every time the topic was mentioned in Chicago?

"Get ahold of yourself," Fred chastises himself, shaking his head in an effort to clear the memory from his foggy mind. "You have a mission to complete; now, let's just take a look at these webpages before Shaggy or Scooby decide to wake up."

Fred clicks on the Google Chrome browser located on the screen and pauses when a search engine blinks onto the screen. He blinks, reflecting on what he wants to do next; somehow, he hadn't actually thought about what his next move would be after he obtained the laptop and managed to recollect the correct password. But Fred still cannot manage to remember the name of the webpage with all the art; it slips like sand through his fingers. He does, however, know that Erica mentioned fans were writing on Twitter and Reddit, so he decides to navigate to Reddit first. His fingers fly across the keyboard as he queues up the search, and in an instant he is staring at the Reddit home page.

Admittedly, Fred has limited exposure to Reddit, or any online discussion forums for that matter; in fact, he and the rest of Mystery Incorporated have very minimal interaction with any social media platform. Not long after the gang began to attract international attention for their mysteries, the five friends decided to avoid chat forums and dark corners of the internet at all costs. As the gang became more notorious and well-known, more and more people were writing about them, which was initially thrilling, but then each member of the gang would find pockets of people that bashed and slandered Mystery Incorporated, no matter what the sleuths accomplished. They quickly learned that the internet was a breeding ground for negativity and bullying, so they decided it was best to just remain ignorant towards what people were saying about them at all costs. It isn't because the gang aren't interested, because deep down, there is a small part of each member that is curious to know what people are saying, but they also know that if they attempt to read up on every article and every comment, it'll make their heads spin with anxiety.

Since Fred is aware of the basic premise of Reddit but unaware of how to locate specific forums, he fumbles around blindly for a good ten minutes before he finally discovers that the main home page must be a display for trending discussions; in order to locate a specific topic, he must type his inquiry next to the magnifying glass, which indicates a search bar. Fred holds his breath as he slowly types, "Talent Star," and he gasps with wonder and awe when an endless stream of topics floods his internet browser.

Fred feels his heart barrel into his throat when he reads the first discussion thread topic dated from a week ago, which screams in all capital letters, "FRAPHNE ROBBED DURING THE FINAL ROUND." Beside the subject line is a number, 74.5 K, sandwiched in between an arrow pointing upwards and an arrow pointing downwards. Fred scratches his head, unsure of what the hell the numbers are intended to indicate; is it the amount of people who viewed it? Or is it the amount of people who have shared it on another social media platform, or the number of people who have commented on the thread itself? But another glance informs Fred it can't be a score of the comments; otherwise, why is there a "1.2 K" listed next to a speech bubble? Surely since the number is paired with a text bubble that 1.2 K is indicative of the number of comments that have been posted thus far, so what does the 74 K total illustrate? Fred feels as though he is drowning in his own questions, and frankly, he isn't sure if he wants to know what any of it means, anyway, so he tries to just ignore the confusing numbers as he clicks on the title of the discussion thread.

It only takes a few seconds for the body of the topic to load, which is posted by a user that calls themselves "FraphneShipper4Life." Fred feels a faint blush simmering beneath his skin as his eyes sweep across the text, which reads, "Did anyone else feel like our OTP was robbed of winning the Talent Star competition tonight?! Like I don't understand, their numbers were skyrocketing on the screen and then Queen Daph just made some jokes and the numbers started to plummet, idk seems pretty sus to me." Fred scrolls to read the responses, and the first reply (posted by Fraphne4ever) states, "It's because Queen Daph obviously wanted to throw the competition, I mean I love our King and Queen but that sweet girl Emma really did deserve it." Nestled beneath this response is a comment from DaphneBlakeisMyIdol declaring that they "stan Daphne," and the remark yields 70.5 points. Fred blinks, wildly confused; what does OTP even mean? Or stan and sus? He opens up a new search tab and a quick search reveals that OTP means "one true pairing," "stanning" is the act of being an obsessed fan, and "sus" simply is shortened for suspicious ("but then why not just simply write out the entire word? Don't they know how to spell it?! There is auto correct on every single phone nowadays," Fred scratches his head, confused).

The rest of the comments wash over Fred the same way river water glazes over stones; he smiles in spite of himself over the fact that Daphne's heart was not missed by the viewers at home. He had wondered if anyone would pick up on her sweet gesture, and he felt his heart swell when he realized how tons of other people admired this about Daphne, too. He clicks back to the main Talent Star thread in search of another topic. "So far, this isn't too bad," Fred tells himself. "I mean, I can't quite keep up with some of the internet speech, but at least it isn't anything too embarrassing yet. And it's nice to know people were so supportive of our Talent Star run, too; even though it's over, I'm glad there were people who were appreciative of all the hard work we put into those performances."

Fred notices his heart beat is less intense, and his breathing is no longer staggering in anticipation of what he'll find online; so far, a cursory scroll through the Talent Star thread is fairly tame. There are people sharing YouTube clips from their favorite performances during the show's most recent season, which include not only Fred and Daphne, but Emma, Chrissy Damon, and even Girl-O-Saurus Rex, who hadn't participated in the final round of the competition. There are newspaper articles and opinion pieces ranking the various performers week in and week out, and there is even a link to a scathing commentary on Brick Pimiento's ability to host the show, which makes Fred chuckle under his breath considering how Brick was quite possibly the sketchiest phantom out of them all ("He was pretty sus – I think I did that right," Fred smirks, applying his newfound knowledge of internet slang); there are an overabundance of discussion forums, and while he doesn't have the desire to read them all, they all appear to take on a similar tone in which fans simply interact and chat about the show and the performers, so Fred begins to think that maybe the "Fraphne" situation isn't nearly as extensive as Erica had portrayed. He is about to call off his personal investigation altogether when his eyes flit towards a thread dated from four days ago that proclaims: "DISCUSS YOUR REACTION TO THE FRAPHNE KISS HERE."

Fred's heart ricochets inside of his chest and his palms become slick with sweat. He glances around the room as though someone will burst out of a closet or from underneath the bed at any second, exposing him for reading this discussion forum. Shaggy and Scooby are still snoozing in their bed; somehow, Fred had drowned out their snores as he sat, engrossed by the remarks he was reading on the internet. There was no sign of Shaggy nor Scooby rousing from their slumber, so before he could change his mind Fred double clicked the thread and held his breath as the text marched across the screen.

The user who asked the internet to post their reactions to the Fraphne kiss dubbed themselves JeepersFan4Life, and they gushed about how they had been following Mystery Incorporated's mysteries for a long time now and had always "shipped" (a rapid Google search informed Fred that "shipping" was a desire fans exhibited for two or more people in fiction or reality to enter into a romantic relationship, which of course caused Fred to squirm uncomfortably and blush furiously, although he isn't sure why) Fred and Daphne, even since the gang's earliest days, so JeepersFan4Life was immensely pleased when "Fraphne" ended their final song with a kiss. "Come on guys, we all saw it coming, didn't we?" JeepersFan4Life asked. "Who else is as happy as I am about the Fraphne kiss?!"

Fred's breath hitches in his throat as he slowly scrolls down to read the comments; the only sound he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears while he reads. "Honestly, this moment lives in my head rent free 24/7," wrote FraphneAddict, and JeepersJinkiesandZoinksOhMy! responded, "Same tbh." Daphanatic1998 cried, "I watched this clip way more times than I care to admit," and LookingForCluez69 agreed, "YOOO I HAVE NEVER FELT SO SEEN, SAME THOUGH THIS IS SO VALID." FredIsAScoobySNACK declared, "Damn, Daph is so lucky, Freddy is so hot" (the user name and the statement causes Fred to choke on the breath trapped in his throat, and his heart starts thundering even harder as a crimson blush stains his cheeks). The comments trail endlessly down the screen as Fred skims, noting the thousands of people who echo JeepersFan4Life's excitement about the Fraphne kiss.

By now Fred's heart is galloping so hard, he is certain every guest in the entire hotel can hear it; he's surprised Shaggy and Scooby aren't startled out of their sleep and run from the room, attributing Fred's heart beat to the simmering growl from the belly of a monster. Apparently, Erica was right; the internet had seemingly exploded when Fred and Daphne's kiss closed out Talent Star last week. But why were so many people invested in whether or not he and Daphne dated?! An investigation of the comments section revealed that many fans had been dedicated to "shipping Fraphne since day one;" DaphAndFredAreGroovy remembers watching an interview take place with the entire gang when Fred and Daphne blush when their knees accidently brush together, and FrankWelknerFan swooned over seeing video footage surface of Fred and Daphne's hands interlaced as they ran from the headless horseman ghost a few summers ago. ScarfBoyandSmokingHottie posted a list of noteworthy Fraphne moments that made them "squee and have all the warm feels," and DaphnFredAreRelationshipGoalz calls them "Mom and Dad" for some reason, which makes Fred knit his eyebrows and furrow his forehead. The fans and the stans and the shippers and the wacky usernames stretch out endlessly, and Fred finally clicks away from this discussion forum that is brimming with excitement over him and Daphne's kiss, his cheeks burning with every possible shade of red in the color palette.

By now Fred's pajamas are clinging to his damp skin, soaked from his nervous sweat, and he is fairly certain his heart is going to burst out of his chest as a result of thrumming against his ribcage so roughly. Fred's not sure what's stressing him out more – the constant internet slang that flies right over his head, or the embarrassingly passionate fan posts regarding his personal life. He had no idea his life was apparently an open book or an exposed diary entry for everyone to read and discuss and analyze; he feels as though his skin has been sliced off of his bones and now every internal organ is raw and exposed, on display for anyone to scrutinize and dissect. He is extremely grateful for the gang's pact to stay off social media; he can't imagine what Daphne would think if she were to read any of these posts. Somehow, nothing Erica squealed about had prepared Fred for the intensity of what he found online, and for the plethora of people who were still commenting and expressing their interest in the "Fraphne ship;" Erica's outbursts now seemed so tame compared to what existed on Reddit.

Fred considers shutting the laptop and forgetting everything he's seen tonight when his eyes drift towards a discussion thread stacked beneath the one JeepersFan4Life had posted on the Fraphne kiss. The subject line simply reads "Fan Art," and Fred gasps before he throws his hands over his mouth; he wishes he could swallow this sudden outburst of shock, but luckily Shaggy and Scooby haven't even flinched; Shaggy's snores still echo in the hotel room, and Scooby doesn't even twitch. Fred gulps and attempts to steady his ragged breathing, but the "Fan Art" topic won't stop glowering at him. He knows he should just log off and attempt to get some sleep (he blinks at the clock and inwardly moans when he sees that he has to be awake in two hours), and he knows there's a significant chance he'll see something that will make him blush and squirm again, but really, hasn't he already seen it all? Fred inhales slowly and counts to ten before he double clicks on the discussion thread and thinks, "Well, it can't get any worse, right?"

The user name for the fan art thread is Traphne, and Fred wonders if the username alone is a premonition that he shouldn't plow forward, but when he notices the user has pasted several links to DeviantArt, all signs of spine-tingling foreshadowing flee from his mind as he snaps his fingers in recognition. "Finally, that's the name of that art forum!" he bristles, pleased that Reddit left a virtual bread crumb trail to the website; he would have never recalled the name on his own.

Fred skims the body of the text, which simply reads, "Here are some links to some of my favorite Fraphne illustrations created by fans over the years, and I'm doing some shameless self-promo by throwing in a couple of my own, as well." He blinks, trying to decide which piece to select first, but each of the links is a series of letters and numbers, so he has no idea what he will find at the end of the URL. Fred decides it makes sense to just choose the first piece and work his way through the list, so before he can talk himself out of it, he double clicks the first link and presses the "accept" option when a menu warns him that he is navigating away from Reddit and towards a new webpage.

A new internet tab pops onto his screen, and the computer loads a completely blackened backdrop, a sharp contrast to the white backdrop on Reddit; Fred raises the brightness on the screen just a bit so he can read everything, and he shifts away from Shaggy and Scooby slightly so they don't waken to the harsh computer lights. He's too busy angling away from his friends, so he doesn't see the illustration that loads gradually onto the screen until it's fully loaded, and when he finally glances at the screen he has to slap his hands over his mouth to prevent another gasp from escaping his lips.

The same Reddit user "Traphne" has posted a vibrant, colorful illustration of Fred and Daphne sitting side-by-side on top of the Mystery Machine, parked blissfully before a citrus colored sunset as it crawls beneath a luscious green hill. Traphne has depicted Fred with his arm draped around Daphne's shoulder, and Daphne has her cheek resting against Fred's shoulder. Both Fred and Daphne have huge, silly grins plastered on their faces, and Fred clocks how their eyes look soft and watery as they stare at each other, completely neglecting the beautiful sunset before them. Fred's cheeks are scalding hot, and he knows his face is red, redder than the swirls in the sunset as he fumbles for the backspace arrow, which returns him safely to the Reddit forum with all the artwork.

"Come on Fred, what's your problem?" he scolds himself inwardly. "I mean, that wasn't even so bad; it's possible for two plutonic, close friends to watch a nice sunset together. I'm sure the artist was just trying to capture the beauty of friendship." He doesn't bother asking himself why the artist hasn't included the rest of the gang if this were the case, and he clicks the second DeviantArt link with trembling hands, telling himself he's just shaking with exhaustion and lack of sleep at this point.

The next visual is another piece by Traphne, and this time it's a portrait of Fred and Daphne kissing on stage at the conclusion of Talent Star. Traphne has sketched rainbow colored music notes floating around Fred and Daphne's heads, but other than that detail, the scene looks exactly as Fred remembered it from last week; Fred and Daphne's lips are pressed together, and Daphne has her right foot pointed up delicately in the air while her right hand lightly rests against Fred's chest and her left hand perches on his shoulder. A light pink blush spills onto Fred and Daphne's cheeks, and Traphne has drawn heart eyes on both of their faces, which are glowing beneath the yellow gauzy stage lights.

Fred bites his cheek as he resists the urge to gasp again when his eyes gravitate towards some text beneath the illustration, and the caption reads, "Hey folks, I wanted to take a stab at my interpretation of the kiss that was felt 'round the world! Whaddaya think?" A string of users praise Traphne for their "stunning piece" and "creative representation of our faves," but there's one comment left by a fan named ScoobyDoobyDoo that asks, "Yeah, this is beautiful and I loved it and all, but does anyone else get the sense that this is as far as Fred and Daphne will ever take things? Or worse yet, maybe it was all for show?" Fred scans for any responses to ScoobyDoobyDoo, but no one agrees or disagrees with his inquiry, and for some reason Fred has to blink back a tear stinging his eye. Is it because he fears that last week was as close to a romantic relationship the pair would ever get, as well? Or maybe it's because he's also been wrestling with the question of whether or not the kiss was all "for show" and ratings? He certainly hasn't gotten any answers or indications from Daphne, and he's starting to wonder if ScoobyDoobyDoo is right, and neither he nor these fans will ever have any closure.

Fred notices he is quaking as these questions circulate within him, and he sighs quietly, closing the DeviantArt tab. He contemplates whether or not he even wants to see the remaining two pieces linked on the Reddit thread; really, hasn't he put himself through enough torture for one night? It's bad enough he's discovered that people are gossiping about whether or not he and Daphne are dating, but now he's exposing himself to visuals and artwork. Yet for some reason this need to view as much fan art as possible is starting to chew away at him, and Fred knows he won't be able to fall asleep until he's seen more and his appetite for curiosity has been satiated. He gulps, swallowing the lump forming in his throat, and he chooses the third DeviantArt link, which loads a sketch by a user named Complikated.

Complikated's depiction of "Fraphne" contrasts against the other two visuals in that it's a black and white drawing, but like the other two, this one is just as stunning and breath-taking. Fred chokes on a gasp strangling his throat; this one makes him squirm a bit more than the other two. Complikated depicts Fred wearing a skeleton costume, leaning hastily against a wall as Daphne presses herself against him. Daphne is wearing a long, elegant dress with a slit that cuts up to her thigh and a plunging neckline, and a soft blush sweeps across her cheeks as she frames her hands on Fred's cheeks, which are scarlet; Fred is almost certain his cheeks in this illustration match his cheeks right now as he stares at this visual, which stirs a cloud of emotions in his chest. There's something about this one that makes Fred feel especially self-conscious; is it the implicit desire rolling off Daphne's body? Or the possessive manner in which she holds Fred's face and pushes him against the wall? Before Fred can catch himself, he finds himself wondering what it would feel like to have Daphne press herself seductively against him, and instantly every nerve-ending in his body feels as though it's been lit by a torch while he chokes on the breath trapped in his throat. Again, Fred wonders how it's possible that Shaggy and Scooby don't hear his heart thundering in his chest as he hastily closes the tab and swiftly moves onto the fourth picture.

The moment the fourth and final illustration loads onto the screen, Fred feels himself unravel like a spool of yarn; it feels as though all the air has been sucked out of the room, and the sweat trickles down his back quickly, sliding like lines of ants marching in a straight formation. This final piece is created by a user named TrapOfLove69, and the artist has chosen their name aptly based upon the content of their piece. TrapOfLove69 illustrates Daphne sitting up in bed, an orange ascot tied sloppily around her wrists, as a hungry looking Fred crawls towards her with a rope in his hand. Neither Fred nor Daphne look timid nor hesitant in this fan art; in fact, both appear absolutely effervescent, with sly, coy smiles pasted on their faces. Both Fred and Daphne have creases and wrinkles etched onto their clothes, and before Fred can even think about the implications of his tousled hair and the purple shirt that pools around Daphne's shoulders, Fred's eyes flit towards the caption, which reads, "Because we all know what Fred actually means when he says he loves traps ;)"

Fred's voice is shrieking shrilly in his head, and he reminds himself to breathe as he swallows thickly and attempts to silence his bellowing heart. This is more terrifying than all the Reddit comments and usernames and illustrations of "Fraphne" kissing or watching sunsets together in a tangled knot; this is absolutely mortifying, more terrifying than every villain and every ghost and every monster he has ever unmasked with the gang. There's a million thoughts zooming through Fred's mind right now, but the one he reaches out and snatches first is the fear of what Daphne would think if she were to ever see this, and how it could potentially dissolve their friendship in an instant. But then a second thought eclipses this first, primary concern, and before Fred can stop himself, he finds himself wondering –

"Like, hey Fredster, whatcha doin' right now?"

Fred releases a high-pitched scream as he slams the laptop shut and stares into Shaggy's lazy eyes, which droop with sleep as he towers above Fred. Scooby jars from his sleep in the other bed, frantically racing in circles around the room as he yelps, "RELP, RONSTER! RHERE IS HE, RHERE IS HE?!"

"Like, it's okay Scoob, Fred didn't see the Goose Lake Monster; I think I just, like, scared him," Shaggy yawns, rubbing his eyes with his fists. "Anyway, what are ya up to, old buddy? Whatcha lookin' at?"

Fred sputters, his eyes darting between the bed and Shaggy as though trying to comprehend when exactly Shaggy stirred.

"S-S-S-Shaggy, why are you up?!" Fred erupts. Confusion billows in his mind, clouding his train of thought as he scrambles to think of an excuse as to what he's doing on the laptop so late at night, but he can't help but wonder why Shaggy has chosen now of all moments to awaken from his slumber. If Shaggy and Scooby slept through Fred's fall, the laptop noise, the glow of the laptop, and Fred's random gasps, what could it have possibly been that woke him up just now?!

"I dunno, guess I just had to take a whiz," Shaggy shrugs casually. "I just kinda, like, woke up on my own, and then I noticed there was like a weird glow comin' from your bed, so I came over to like, investigate and see what you were up to."

By now Scooby has stopped zipping around the room and vibrating with panic, as he realizes there isn't any ghost that is ready to hurt him or his friends. He pads towards Fred and rests his head on the bed. "Rhat are rou rooking at?" Scooby asks innocently, his eyes blinking as he gazes at the laptop.

"I, ah, uh, well, that isn't any of your concern, Scoob!" Fred snaps, chastising himself for sounding so guilty as his heart thumps harder and a sharp, metallic taste coats the roof of his mouth; it wouldn't shock him if he leaned over and threw up at this very second. "I was just, um, couldn't sleep, and, ah, looking at nothing in particular, really…"

Shaggy's eyes widened to the size of golf balls as Fred stammers.

"Uh, Scooby, why dontcha hop back into bed," Shaggy says gently. "I think you oughta go back to sleep so like, Fredster and I can talk!"

Great.

"Rokay!" Scooby nods eagerly as he leaps into bed, and he circles twice before he crumples over into a tight, furry ball; it's only a few seconds before Fred can hear the dog's soft, even breathing as he descends into sleep.

"Like, okay Fred, level with me now, it's just the two of us here," Shaggy whispers. "What exactly is it that you're, like, lookin' at so late at night?!"

"Nothing!" Fred explodes, wincing when he remembers Scooby has fallen back asleep. "Nothing," he says again, firmly but quietly. "I swear, Shaggy, I guess I just couldn't sleep so I thought it would help if I spent some time on the internet, but that didn't really work out well; in fact, I was just about to log off and try to rest for awhile. I swear, I wasn't looking at anything in particular."

"Huh…sure," Shaggy shakes his head incredulously. "C'mon Fredster, what are you, like, watchin'? I swear I won't judge."

"Nothing!" Fred insists, his voice cracking on the lie. "I swear, Shaggy, I'm not watching anything or looking at anything at all aside from random music videos on YouTube."

Shaggy narrows his eyes at Fred, and Fred can feel his friend scrutinizing the pajamas that cling to Fred's damp skin and his wide, frantic eyes, so he is shocked when Shaggy shrugs and says, "All right man, like, whatever floats your boat. I'm gonna, like, relieve myself and then go back to bed; we have to be up in an hour and a half, and I'm gonna take advantage of every second!"

Shaggy spins on his heel and starts to saunter towards the bathroom, and Fred sighs with relief as he deflates. He stands and begins to slide the laptop beneath his bed, and he's starting to feel lucky that Shaggy hasn't pressed the issue when Shaggy suddenly pivots towards Fred and adds, "Oh, and like, Fred? The next time you decide to, like, stay up late and watch, er, adult content, maybe you could, like, watch it quietly in the bathroom?"

Shaggy chews his lip to bite back the smile stitching across his cheeks as Fred groans loudly and burrows his crimson face into his pillow.