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“Who would be who?”
Tucker looked up from his spot on the couch (where he had been playing his Gameboy) to where Specs sat in the loveseat, knees pulled up to his chest with his eyes on the screen showing Scooby-Doo Meets the Boo Brothers.
“In Scooby?” He grunted back.
“Yeah, like,” he spared a glance to Tucker before letting his eyes return to the tv, “Scooby and Shaggy. The duo. We’re a duo; so, who’s who?”
Tucker hesitated, contemplating the idea for a second before starting, “you already have your answer figured out?” Specs nodded, keeping his eyes to the screen. “You gonna berate me if our answers don’t match?”
Specs turned his head to him, brow furrowed, “Of course not. I don’t do that.”
“Uh huh,” Tucker watched the side of Specs’ head while he thought about the idea, taking in the small smile he gave at the goofiness on the screen. “If anything I think you’d be one of the knockoff Scrooges.”
“They’re not-” he turned a deliberate frown to him, “first off, I would not be one of them. And second, they aren’t the Scrooges, Tuck. They’re the Boo Brothers, not the Scrooges. I can see where you’d get that idea from, but it’s literally in the title that they’re the ‘Boo Brothers’. It isn’t even the same actors.”
“You’re Scrappy, then," Tucker replied quickly, as the character appeared on screen.
“Scrappy!?” Tucker nodded at him, smirking. “Scrappy. You’re unbelievable. Who tells a guy he’s like Scrappy,” Specs paused, his eyes shifting away for a moment, turning his head to the screen and saying more to himself, “though, in the context of this movie I suppose that isn’t necessarily an insult,” he turned back to Tucker. “He can be rather resourceful. And, he’s often the problem solver in the group,” he trailed off.
“Mmm,” Tucker grunted, “I take it back, then. You aren’t the problem solver of the group.”
“I’m not the problem solver of the group?”
“No.”
“And you are?”
“Uh, probably.”
Specs turned to face Tucker fully, one leg moving to hang off the chair while the other stayed folded against his chest. Tucker lowered his Gameboy to give Specs his attention, ready to bicker with him.
“How, pray tell, are you the problem solver in the group?”
“Cause,” he paused letting Specs think for a second that was all he had to say on the matter before continuing, “I make all the equipment and without my equipment we would have a lot more problems.”
“I don’t think we’d have 'a lot more problems’,” he responded, mocking Tucker’s gruff voice, “we would just have different types of evidence and recordings.” He finished, referencing the written accounts and blog entries that would be left if they took away Tucker’s equipment.
“Yeah, less official, substantial ones.”
“They would be just as official, Tucker,” he snapped back.
“Sure they would,” he smirked at Specs, amused at getting him riled up. Specs huffed in response and settled back into the chair, returning to the hijinks on the screen.
-
Later, Tucker was lounging on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, watching a movie that had come on autoplay. Specs had fallen asleep near the end of his movie and had been dozing for about half an hour, his head hanging limply on his own shoulder.
“Hey, Specs,” he crooned gently, “babe, you should move. You’re gonna hurt your neck.” Specs inhaled sharply and lifted his head, turning to look at his sleep’s disturbance with crooked glasses.
“Hmm, yeah,” he slurred sleepily, rising from his chair and stumbling to the couch. “‘M sittin’.” He laid down on his side, taking off his glasses and putting them on the coffee table next to Tucker’s socked feet, resting his hand on Tucker's calf and settling his head on Tucker’s thigh.
Tucker smiled privately, draping his arm across Specs’ side and chest to grab his free hand, interlocking their fingers and squeezing it lightly.
He watched the movie for a couple of minutes in mild enjoyment before Specs, who was apparently still awake, commented, “what exactly are we watching?” Tucker sighed, using his free right hand to brush back his boyfriend’s hair a bit.
“I don’t know,” he said softly, matching the energy level of Specs, “it’s, uh, some kinda ghost shark movie.”
“Why are they in the snow, though?”
“It’s something like the mountain is cursed,” he paused, desperately trying to piece together the nonsensical movie’s storyline, “and then they, uh, trigger an avalanche that releases the shark’s spirits or something.”
Specs turned his head to look back at Tucker, who thought of how soft he looked without his glasses and sleepy.
“How does this stuff get made?” he questioned, returning to his original position and letting the conversation fade. They nestled into a companionable silence, watching the distasteful shark movie, and enjoying the shared casual touch. Eventually, after an over dramatic climax, the end credits rolled and Tucker shut off the tv, looking down to Specs who had dozed off again at some point. He disentangled their hands and squeezed his shoulder, urging him awake.
“Come on, let’s get to bed,” Specs mumbled in response, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, “we have to meet Elise in the morning.”
“Hm, right,” he stood up, grabbing his glasses and stretching before putting them on and following Tucker’s lead to the bedroom. They both got dressed and ready for bed before settling in on their sides facing each other, Specs resting his hand on Tucker’s forearm, his eyes already closed. Tucker watched him for a minute, until he cracked an eye open and met his in the dark.
“I can feel your bug eyes boring holes into me.”
“I was just thinking,” a pause, “of anybody you’re more of a Daphne.”
Specs leaned up onto his forearm, both eyes open now and looking down at Tucker.
“Daphne?!”
-
Elise didn’t mind that they were late the next morning.