Work Text:
So here’s the thing about articles about getting over crushes: they’re stupid. Also mostly aimed at teenagers, Joey’s pretty sure, which is insulting.
If Joey changes the search from ‘crush’ to ‘unrequited love’ it gets a little less juvenile, but he also sounds like a dramatic asshole. He’s not in love with Owen. Obviously he’s not in love with Owen, he’s known him less than a month. Is Owen the kind of guy Joey could love? For sure, but that’s irrelevant, because Joey’s not the kind of guy Owen would love, so whatever.
Joey goes home. He gets his computer. He opens about a billion tabs, all saying a lot of the same useless fucking things.
One: disengage.
Joey knows that. Joey’s known that all along, he’s not stupid. Okay, he hasn’t actually done it, so he’s probably a little stupid, but there’s the difference between being stupid and knowing it, and being stupid and thinking you’re actually smart. Joey knows he’s not smart. He’s definitely no Northwestern alum genius with a killer smile and a love of dogs and a plan to save the world with science when he isn’t dating dudes that are not Joey.
Clearly these guides aren’t working.
How’d the date go? Joey texts late that night. He’s going to be a freaking zombie at practice tomorrow after two straight nights of not enough sleep, and the guys are going to call him on it, and Joey’s probably going to bite someone’s head off and get fined for it, because that’s just the way his life is going right now.
Kind of a dud. Owen texts back with a sad face emoji, and the correct feeling would be to be sad for him, not relieved.
But Joey sucks.
He knew this about himself.
*
Here’s another thing a lot of the articles say: talk about your feelings with someone you trust.
And no fucking way. For one, he’s already done that. Scratch knows, the guys think they know something — they do not — and that hasn’t helped even a little. If Joey goes and talks to Scratch about it again Scratch is just going to tell him to go back to step one: disengage.
And that’s good advice, Joey knows it’s good advice, it’d probably hurt Owen’s feelings a bit if Joey pulled back a bit — or even full on ghosted him — but he’d get over it because they barely know each other. They’re not even friends yet, just like, acquaintances. That is one hundred percent the thing he needs to do.
Scratch pokes his cheek when Joey gets in his car to go to practice. “Is this an Owen face?” he asks.
“No,” Joey says. “I didn’t get enough sleep.”
“Because of Owen?” Scratch asks.
“No,” Joey says.
“But yes?” Scratch asks.
“But yes,” Joey admits.
“Want to talk about it?” Scratch asks.
“No,” Joey says, but then finds himself telling Scratch all about yesterday as Scratch drives him into practice, from the way his dumb ass kept thinking it meant something that Owen went to college in Joey’s hometown to Owen ditching him to go on a date.
“Dude,” Scratch says, when Joey’s reached the mean little part of him that was happy that Owen’s date wasn’t good.
“I know, I’m a terrible person,” Joey says.
“No, you’re a regular person,” Scratch says. “But you know what I’m going to say here.”
“Disengage?” Joey asks.
Scratch does this dumb little head bob. “Disengage.”
“I know,” Joey says.
“You’re not gonna, are you?” Scratch asks.
“No,” Joey admits.
Scratch sighs.
Okay, so Joey followed the stupid advice about talking about his feelings. He doesn’t feel any better.
*
Other advice that frequently pops up in stupid annoying lists Joey shouldn’t have wasted his time reading:
‘Accept your feelings.’
Done and done. He is in touch with his feelings. He is so in touch with them he can’t let go. Denial ain’t a river he travels on.
‘Avoid them on social media.’
Since he doesn’t actually have Owen on social media, that’s not applicable. It is, however, a good reminder not to ask for any of his accounts, because fuck knows Joey would end up trawling through them in the middle of the night at this rate and probably accidentally liking something from years ago and then dying of embarrassment. Thanks for your one helpful bit of advice, many articles.
‘Write about your feelings’.
Joey cannot think of anything he would like to do less than that.
‘Let yourself grieve’.
Jesus, it’s a fucking crush, nobody died. Except Joey’s minimal self-respect, he guesses.
‘Try dating someone else’.
Hah. That would require not being undateable. Plus isn’t it kind of shitty to go into dating with a ‘I really like someone else, but I’ll do you, I guess’ attitude? These articles are heartless.
“I don’t know, it doesn’t sound like the worst idea,” Casey says when he calls her, after a very quick summary of his pain and agony and a very long diatribe about how stupid all those articles are.
“What part?” Joey asks. He bets it’s the ‘disengage’ part. Everybody likes the ‘disengage’ part.
“Trying to date,” Casey says. “I mean, when was the last time you actually went on a date, college?”
“Yeah, but that’s because—”
“Stop calling yourself undateable,” Casey says.
“But—” Joey says.
“You’re a literal millionaire,” Casey says. “You work out like it’s your job, because it is, so you’re in great shape. You’re low-key famous, even if you’re not Willy or anything.”
No one is Willy. Well, except Willy, obviously.
“And you’re like, not bad looking,” Casey says.
“I don’t—” Joey says.
“People used to ask mom if we were twins, if you say you’re ugly I’m gonna hang up on you,” Casey says.
“You’re pretty?” Joey tries weakly.
“Then so are you,” Casey says.
“You have teeth, Case,” Joey says.
“If you wear your falsies more than once a year then people won’t know that you’re missing any,” Casey says.
“I’ve been wearing my bridge lately,” Joey says.
“Thank god,” Casey says.
Everyone’s a critic.
“Obviously you think this guy’s like, perfect,” Casey says. “But maybe that’s because you literally haven’t dated anyone since Zach, and Zach was the human form of a piece of shit.”
“He bakes. He’s getting his Masters in something super science-y. He volunteers at an animal shelter,” Joey says.
“Okay, he actually sounds kind of perfect,” Casey says. “But he’s not interested in you, so, you know, maybe find someone who is?”
Joey opens his mouth.
“Don’t say something mean about yourself,” Casey says.
Joey closes his mouth.
“I just think it’s worth a shot, you know?” Casey says.
“Maybe,” Joey says.
“You’re not going to do it, are you,” Casey says.
“No,” Joey says.
“Don’t make me message Nick,” Casey says.
“Oh god, please don’t,” Joey says. Scratch would probably jump all over that shit and make Joey a profile on a dating app or something. Hell, he might go as far as messaging dudes on Joey’s behalf.
“We’ll see,” Casey says ominously.
“Why are you so gung ho about this?” Joey says. “You haven’t dated in forever either.”
“Yeah, but that’s because I don’t actually want to date, not because I sit around thinking no one will want me so why bother even trying,” Casey says.
Sometimes talking to someone who has known you your whole life fucking sucks.
“That’s not fair,” Joey says.
“Just because it’s not something you want to hear doesn’t mean it’s not fair,” Casey says.
“You sound so much like dad right now,” Joey says.
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Casey says.
“Just because it’s not something you want to hear—” Joey says.
“Joe-y,” Casey whines.
“Case-y,” Joey mimics.
“I’m gonna hang up on you,” Casey says.
“I’m gonna—”
Casey hangs up on him.
Rude.
*
Casey doesn’t text Scratch, thank fuck, or at least she hasn’t yet, because if she had, there is no way Scratch wouldn’t have brought it up when he barges into Joey’s apartment for dinner. The only reason Joey allows him to stay is because Scratch brought the dinner with him. You’re never too rich for free food. Ever.
What’s this about you bothering Casey? his mom sends while he’s inhaling sushi.
Joey scowls down at it. Casey’s such a snitch.
Casey’s such a snitch., he texts back.
“Owen?” Scratch asks.
“Not everything’s about Owen,” Joey says. “Casey’s a snitch.”
“We knew this about her,” Scratch says.
“We did,” Joey says, then texts, Snitch!!!!!!! at Casey.
Be nice to your sister. his mom sends just as Casey sends him a bunch of kissy faces.
Joey scowls, then smacks Scratch when he reaches for the last tuna roll, clearly thinking Joey’s too distracted to notice.
“I paid for them,” Scratch says, cradling his hand.
Joey takes his time savoring it in front of his dejected eyes.
“That’s genuinely horrifying,” Scratch says. “Please never try to sexy eat again.”
“I wasn’t sexy eating, I was savoring!” Joey says.
“Never ever,” Scratch says. “Ever. Again.”
“God, now you’re going to give me a complex about how I eat,” Joey says.
“Add it to your other ones,” Scratch says.
“I have so many it’s hard to keep track of them anymore,” Joey complains.
“It’d help if you knew how to count without using your fingers,” Scratch says.
Joey gives him one particular finger in response.
“Wanna watch the new season of Grace and Frankie?” Scratch asks.
Joey maybe binged every episode within forty-eight hours of it coming out, but he can’t admit it, because then Scratch will give him those big hurt eyes and call him a traitor to their friendship.
“You already watched it, didn’t you,” Scratch says flatly.
“No?” Joey attempts.
Scratch gives him the big hurt eyes. Somehow even the rat’s nest of curls he calls his hair look sad and droopy too.
“How do you do that?” Joey asks. It’s fascinating. He looks full on like a cartoon character.
Scratch keeps looking sad. One curl has fallen dramatically across his forehead like it’s died of heartbreak.
“Okay, fine, we’ll watch it,” Joey says.
“But you watched it without me,” Scratch says.
“You are the most oversized baby in the world,” Joey says.
“Sigh,” Scratch says. Like, he doesn’t sigh, he literally says the word.
Joey sighs. For real sighs, not saying the word like a weirdo. “I have cookies in the cupboard.”
Scratch straightens up. “What kind?” he asks.
“Oreos,” Joey says.
Scratch has eaten four before they’re even halfway through the first episode of season six, and the only reason it takes that long is he always takes the top off and bites the frosting off a bit at a time with his big squirrel teeth before chomping on the naked cookies that remain. It’s gross. He gives Joey the sad face when Joey confiscates the box, but it doesn’t work this time, because Joey has already paid his debt in cookies. Four of them.
They’re on episode three when Owen texts him with, Almost free of this torture., which Joey is pretty sure is his lab report — he’s not psychic or anything, the petri dish emoji is pretty helpful, along with the minor rant Owen once had about how much better life would be if he could just do lab work and delegate the whole write up part to someone else — then, What’re you up to tomorrow?
Hockey, Joey adds, then throws in a couple hockey related emojis of his own so it doesn’t sound curt.
I should save your schedule somewhere so I quit asking., Owen says
Something in Joey warms at that, the thought of Owen downloading the Scouts’ game schedule, checking it to see if Joey was busy. It shouldn’t, he knows, it’s just Owen being thoughtful, but he can’t help it.
“Are Grace and Frankie interrupting you?” Scratch asks dramatically, and Joey rolls his eyes and tucks his phone back in his pocket.
Wait.
“How the fuck did you get more Oreos?” Joey asks, and Scratch grins smugly around his stolen goods and refuses to answer or give them up, which leads to a wrestling match to get back what’s his. Not that Joey even eats them, they’re for Scratch bribes, but they work best if they’re slowly handed out — if Joey gives him a whole box at a time Scratch going to die of sugar overdose.
The wrestling match ends up with Joey flat on his back and Scratch crowing victoriously over him, which is usually the way it goes. But this time it is Joey who has won.
“You lost,” Joey says.
“How did I lose?” Scratch says, which is a fair question since he’s 100% got Joey pinned, but —
“The Oreos are under me,” Joey says. “And I’m pretty positive we crushed them.”
The absolutely devastated look on Scratch’s face is worth everything.