A/N: Those of you who think the details of Shaggy's school days are too harsh to be plausible, let it be known that that actually happened to this author once. It was the only time I ever got sent to the principal's office for misbehavior (hee hee, I'm such a good girl).

Chapter 28:

The good thing was that Shaggy was able to walk to Velma's apartment to pick her up.

Ever since moving out of the house she and Daphne had once shared, Velma had never been entirely certain how to explain if Daphne ever asked why she had moved into the same complex as Shaggy, especially since there were several cheaper, more spacious apartments closer to work. Fortunately, Daphne had never pressed the issue, which could be interpreted as meaning either that she was uninterested and would never really ask, or as meaning that she already knew and was going to humor Velma for a while before getting her to admit it. Velma optimistically hoped for the former.

Despite being about mid-October, there had been a bit of an Indian summer lately, so Velma and Shaggy decided to take advantage of the fresh air and warmth and walk to the restaurant. Besides, this gave them more time to talk in private.

Velma was just laughing at an anecdote of Shaggy's that dated way back to before her promotion to fifth grade. It was something about a substitute teacher who sent him to the principal's office for accidentally dropping his paper on the floor. Once there, the principal had naturally assumed there had to be more to the story than clumsy fingers, so Shaggy was left in a tiny wooden chair in a tiny closet at the back of the office until he would tell more. As there was nothing more to tell, he just sat there all day. He told the story with an overdramatically traumatized look on his face, but Velma could tell that was just to amuse her.

Why hasn't he ever told me this before? Velma pondered. She had known Shaggy for almost twelve years, and he had never mentioned this before. Come to think of it, from how often Shaggy would reminisce about his school days, it was hard to believe he wasn't born the day before she met him.

"Yeah," Velma answered when he had finished. "I think I had that substitute once, actually. She lectured me for reading a Ray Bradbury novel during Sustained Silent Reading... Fahrenheit 451, I think. She said kids shouldn't be reading books like that. She sent a note home to my parents. I had just started school and they were just amazed that I even could read that book..." Now it was Velma's turn to reveal her innermost childhood traumas.

"Zoinks. Like, I still can't read that book."

"Well, you haven't really read much of anything since eighth grade, have you?"

"Nope." Shaggy grinned and shrugged it off. He was very competent at being incompetent. "Like, I think I'd freak out if our five-year-old brought home a book like that."

Velma cheerfully walked three or four paces before it struck her. She turned around.

"Our five-year-old?"

Shaggy blushed. Busted. "Okay, so I've like imagined it... a couple of times... I mean it's not impossible..."

Velma let him go. "Well... I did catch the bouquet..."

Marriage. Somehow the idea had adorned the entire conversation without the word ever being uttered. Why was it so taboo?

Why was their love so taboo?

Velma spoke again, seriously. "I guess it really isn't impossible. But it's pretty far off. I mean, we just graduated... I'm just barely a legal adult..."

"So... you're saying it's possible but not likely?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Velma answered him, hoping desperately he wouldn't assume she was trying to break up with him or anything like that. Still, his question did bring the statistics to mind... what were the odds, really? Most women dated quite a few guys before deciding on whom to marry. What were the chances that "the one" would be Shaggy?

Velma shook herself. For once in her life, could she stop sorting everything into boxes and numbers? This wasn't about statistics, or probability, or any kind of neat, formulatic equation that would automatically sort everything out. This was about Shaggy.

Turning to face him, Velma explained, "I think what I am saying is that we can't exactly run off and elope while most of the world doesn't even know we care about each other." The thought of Fred and Daphne's ignorance to the matter, if said ignorance even existed, once again struck a guilty chord with her.

"Well, they will... in the future..." Shaggy envisioned.

"And I think we will... in the future." Velma assured him.

They stared up at the sky on this warm, clear night-- perhaps the last one until next spring. Hundreds of stars adorned the view. Velma found that this was maybe the first night in her life where the sky was not about Polaris, and Orion, and Ursa Major. It was simply about stars, the brightest (in her eyes and heart) being the one standing right next to her.

"Weird, like, isn't it?" Shaggy asked after a minute. "Some of the people we talk to at work are living up there right now."

Velma laughed. She hadn't thought of that. The universe was a big place, yet it was full-- full of life, and people, and hope.

Just then a shooting star whizzed past. Somehow, without saying a word, both wished for the same thing.