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One.
Daphne shivers in the passenger seat while Velma fiddles with the heater.
“Hurry up,” Daphne demands, except it comes out like a whine. Velma cuts her a sharp, impatient look and Daphne knows that she should shut up now, probably, instead, she doubles down. “I mean we wouldn’t even be here in the van with almost no gas, stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere if you hadn’t had the bright idea to ditch the boys and—”
Mercifully, Velma cuts her off. “Shaggy ran off first and you know it. Blaming me for taking initiative is not fair. Nor is the implication that the gas is so low when I said—multiple times—to Fred that we needed to stop and get some.”
Daphne opens her mouth to continue arguing and then closes it when Velma opens the car door and leaves her alone inside of it, cutting any argument off. It’s for the better. Daphne doesn’t want to argue with Velma. She’s not even mad at Velma. She knows that none of this is Velma’s fault; she’s just… mad. In general.
She can hear Velma moving around and then the van’s… engine thing? the hood? whatever it’s called, is cracked open and Velma disappears behind it.
Daphne picks at a piece of lint on her shoulder and contemplates getting back out into the cold to apologize and try to help. Her palm rests on the door handle. All she has to do is push.
She doesn’t. She is a brat, and a coward, and she doesn’t know how to make the engine of a car work with or without gas, anyway. She’ll just get in Velma’s way.
She does that a lot, lately.
Instead, she pulls out a map from the glove compartment, and tries to find a way to get them home. When Velma crawls back into the van, a little oil on her forehead, Daphne has to dig her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from reaching over and wiping it off.
“Okay,” Velma huffs. “Hand me the map. That might work for a bit if we can plan out the quickest way—”
“I did it,” Daphne says, lifting up the marked map. Pencil. They do this too often to use ink, even though Daphne has bought them extra maps just in case.
“Oh,” Velma looks at her then. Meets her eye for the first time since they ran back to the van in a panic an hour ago. “Okay, great. Thanks.”
“Thanks for fixing the van,” Daphne says, instead of saying I’m sorry I’m being a bitch.
Velma carefully turns the van back on, the heat blasting out at them as they both let out a sigh in relief.
“I could kiss you,” Daphne declares, without thinking. Velma goes rigid and a brilliant blush creeps onto her face, and now Daphne really wants to kiss her. She clears her throat instead, holding up the map and resolutely only looking at the patch of dirt road up ahead of them. “Okay, straight up here for a mile and then we’re taking a left,” she navigates.
“Okay,” Velma says, her voice thick. “Okay.”
She doesn’t look back over at Daphne again the whole drive.
…
two.
…
Velma lost her glasses.
Again.
She’s clutching onto Daphne’s arm as they slowly creep though the abandoned mansion together. Scooby and the boys went towards the basement, the two of them took the attic, and Velma lost her glasses somewhere on the top floor. She’s been holding onto Daphne’s arm for at least ten minutes.
Something crashes behind them and Daphne presses herself into Velma, almost climbing up into her arms. She’s done it before—they all have. For the shortest and smallest among them, Velma might actually be as strong as Fred. Maybe more so.
Hum, Daphne looks down at Velma’s bicep. She should not be focusing on that, focus on the crash, Daphne!
“Do you see anything?” Velma whispers, holding tighter. Focus! Daphne thinks again. Velma is relying on her, she needs to pull herself together. Daphne whips around, eyes glancing back and forth in the attic room and coming up short.
“No,” she whispers back. “But that doesn’t mean that nothing is there.”
Velma rolls her eyes. Eyes that cannot currently see that Daphne is absolutely sticking her tongue out at her.
“What is that?” she asks, holding her finger up and touching Daphne’s tongue. Or, maybe she can.
“Nothing,” Daphne says quickly. “Let’s get out of here and backtrack till we find your glasses.”
“The noise was probably Shaggy or Fred,” Velma rationalizes.
“Or a ghost,” Daphne counters.
“Or Scooby.”
“Or, a ghost. A ghost that stole your glasses.”
Velma laughs. “What would a ghost want with my glasses?” she asks as Daphne carefully leads her back down to the rickety staircase.
“Nefarious purposes, I’m sure.”
“Yes, making me half-blind and reliant on you for survival is very nefarious indeed.”
“Could be,” Daphne objects, placing her other arm around Velma’s waist. “Steps,” she says.
“Oh yeah,” Velma holds on tighter. “Very nefarious, making us clutch each other as we walk down stairs. The only goal here is making us closer. Maybe it’s a ghost that ships us.”
Daphne’s throat goes dry. “What?” she jokes, trying very hard to keep her voice light. “The ghost wants us to get all hot and heavy with each other because it took your glasses?”
“Apparently,” Velma laughs and sticks her face up. “Kiss me,” she orders. “Maybe then it will give my glasses back.”
Daphne nearly does it. She knows—she knows—that Velma is joking around, but she wants to do it anyway. Instead, she laughs and she knows that it comes out strangled and weird because Velma’s grinning like a goofball but her smile drops, just the slightest bit, at the sound. Quickly covering, Daphne bends down and places a chaste kiss to Velma’s cheek.
“Give us back our glasses you menace!” she hollers out. “We succumbed to your demands, fair is fair!”
“On a technicality,” Velma pips up, but now her voice sounds a little thick. A little full of an emotion that’s been hanging around between the two of them for months, now.
“What demands?” Fred asks, popping up out of nowhere.
Daphne’s not proud of it, but she screams and trips, nearly falling down the stairs and taking Velma with her. Velma holds onto her, reflexes quick and muscles strong even without being able to see Daphne. She can feel her.
“Fred!” Velma scolds. Daphne can’t concentrate on their conversation. Not while Velma’s thumb is rubbing small soothing circles on her lower back to get her to calm down. Daphne can’t focus on anything.
“Velmster!” Shaggy calls out and Daphne bites at the inside of her cheek, hating the nickname that he’s donned now that they’re… whatever is happening, there. “Found your glasses,” he says, and holds them out to her with a gallant, exaggerated bow.
Velma giggles as he places them on her face and Daphne quickly extracts herself from Velma’s hold and moves over to stand near Fred.
“You okay?” he whispers down at her, concern evident in his gaze.
“Fine,” Daphne says, lips pursed.
Fred’s eyebrows raise, but he leaves it alone. He’s good like that, knows when to push her and when to leave it. Daphne knocks her head against his shoulder. “I hate this house,” she mumbles.
“Yeah, lets burn it down,” he jokes.
“What!” Shaggy says, catching that bit of the conversation.
“It will save us a lot of time,” Fred adds. “Mystery solved. No more haunted house.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Daphne agrees.
“Absolutely not!” Velma says. “We are not committing arson instead of solving the mystery. Daphne!” she says, aghast. “You always want to solve everything!”
Daphne rolls her eyes and presses her face further into Fred’s chest, ignoring the look that Velma is giving her. “Fine, let’s solve it then. I’m tired.”
Velma’s voice softens and Daphne wants to cry with frustration. “Okay. Okay, let’s go and get this finished,” she says, voice full of that fierce determination that Daphne loves. “Then we’ll go crash. I’ll tuck you in myself,” she says, joking but not.
“I’ll hold you to that, Dinkley,” Daphne warns. When she finally lifts her face from Fred’s chest and meets Velma’s gaze, her eyes are raised in a challenge, smirk on her face.
“Alright, Blake,” she says, hands on her hips. “You’re on.”
…
three.
…
Daphne is very sick of getting kidnapped, all things considered.
It was one thing when she was a teenager, and a novice detective, and not as physically strong as the rest of them. Now it’s just embarrassing.
And inconvenient.
She is both thrilled and terrified when the door opens and Velma is shoved inside by rough hands; the door slams closed, and the sound of a lock clicking back into place echoes into the air within a span of seconds.
“Daphne!” Velma says, relief evident in her voice as she throws herself across the room and wraps her arms tightly around Daphne. “Are you okay?” she asks, sitting back and running her hands up and down Daphne’s body in an inspection that has Daphne shivering. “Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” Daphne says. “Dirty and hungry and embarrassed, but fine.” Panic suddenly floods through her. “Did he hurt you?” she asks, and starts to twist Velma around to check her for signs of injury, too.
Even in the dark, Daphne can see it when Velma flushes bright red. “I’m fine,” she insists and then moves to sit down against the wall beside Daphne. Their thighs and shoulders touching. “I was rescuing you,” she says, with a pout. “As you can see, it went poorly.”
“I appreciate the effort,” Daphne says. “I searched the entire room already. No escape routes. We’re in a total box.”
“Fuck,” Velma breathes out in a huff.
“If you found me then the boys will find us eventually,” Daphne says. “It is a constant knock on my ego whenever I have to be rescued by Fred—or god forbid, Shaggy—but I would rather be rescued than die in this room of starvation.”
Velma huffs again.
“You’re welcome to look and see if there’s anything I missed.”
“No,” Velma says, rolling her head down onto Daphne’s shoulder. “I trust you. You’ve escaped more places than anyone I know.”
Daphne’s whole body fills up with the compliment. Velma always wants to check everything herself—just in case.
“Oh, well… thank you.”
“Never doubt your abilities, Daph,” Velma demands. “Your brilliant.”
“I thought that was your job.”
“There’s room enough for two.”
Daphne knocks her head down on top of Velma’s, settling into the half-embrace. They’re quiet together for a few minutes, sitting flush against each other in the dark room.
“Do you like him?” Daphne asks, her voice just barely above a whisper.
Velma is still here, not even inches away. Her body is pressed up against Daphne’s, and she knows exactly who Daphne is talking about. She looks up neutrally, and Daphne hopes that she’ll find something hidden behind Velma’s eyes, but the one of the things she has learned about being friends with Velma over the years, is that Velma hides everything too well. Plus, it really is very dark in here.
“Yeah,” Velma answers eventually. “I like the way he makes me feel.”
Daphne wants to say, that isn’t what I asked, but her bravery disappears as quickly as it came on.
“Do you like Fred?” Velma asks and Daphne sucks in a sharp breath. They’re doing this, then.
“What’s not to like?” she deflects. Velma scoffs and reaches over to pinch Daphne’s thigh. “Ouch!” Daphne jerks in surprise. “Velma, that hurt.”
“It was supposed to,” Velma says, voice devoid of sympathy. “Answer the question. I did.”
“Did you?” Daphne counters, her bravery slipping back with the twinge of anger that’s quickly building. But, before Velma can respond, Daphne answers her question. “He was the first person that I ever loved. He’s one of my best friends. He is always going to be very important to me, but no, I don’t like him like that anymore. We broke up. It was mutual. It was probably... a long time coming.”
“Oh,” Velma breathes, like she hadn’t expected Daphne to be that honest. The four of them have been resolutely trying to ignore the weirdness between Daphne and Fred as they shift back to friends and not lovers. They’d thought—stupidly—that just not acknowledging it would make it seem like it had never happened at all. Like Daphne hadn’t dated the man for the last two years. She should have known better.
“So,” Daphne says. “Your turn.”
She caught Velma and Shaggy kissing a few months ago. Right around when she and Fred were first talking about breaking up. It had surprised her so much that she felt like someone had hauled off and punched her in the gut. She wants to ask Velma if that’s how she felt back when they were teenagers, when Daphne and Fred first started dancing around each other, but she’s not brave enough for that conversation. She might never be.
“I told you,” Velma insists, shifting slightly away from Daphne. “I like the way he makes me feel.”
“That’s not what I asked, though,” Daphne presses. “I asked if you like him.”
Velma shrugs and the motion jostles Daphne’s shoulders, too.
She could kiss her, like this, Daphne thinks. If Velma turns her head even slightly, then Daphne could kiss her. It would be so easy. Quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid; get it out there, see what happens. She could even blame it on her exhaustion, on her fear of being kidnapped, on the delirium of this never-ending case, if Velma balked. But, if she didn’t…
But then, Velma stands, rubbing at her eyes as she lifts up her glasses. “Ugh, I’m not waiting around for the guys to find us. Come on, two heads are better than one, we can find a way out of here.” And then she’s gone, moving around the room and methodically pressing against the wall, the floor, looking for any chink that they can work with.
Daphne sighs and pushes up off the floor, moving to help her. The moment slips away like it was never even there in the first place.
…
four.
…
Stakeouts always seem to be way more exciting in the movies.
Daphne kicks her feet up onto the dashboard and shifts around yet again, her entire body uncomfortable. Her ass is falling asleep. What an indignity.
“Don’t,” Velma chides. “You’ll draw attention to us.”
Daphne scoffs and shifts again—she does bring her legs back down, though. “We’re sitting in a bright green and blue van,” Daphne snaps. “I think we’re already a bit conspicuous.”
“Don’t be a brat, Daphne,” Velma says, as she passes over a bottle of water.
“If ever there were a situation to call for being a brat, then this is one of them.”
Velma snorts. Genuinely laughing, and Daphne hates how much that sound inflates her mood. This is becoming embarrassing. No, scratch that, it’s been embarrassing. It’s beginning to edge more into mortifying territory. Daphne is pretty sure that Fred has even picked up on it, at this point. She can’t even imagine what will happen if Shaggy comes out of a stupor and realizes her feelings—she’ll have to leave the state and never speak to any of them ever again.
“Tell me something,” Velma demands a moment later.
Daphne starts. “What?”
“I’m bored,” Velma says, eyes remaining steady on the front door of the warehouse as she talks. “Tell me a story or something.”
“That’s what you brought me here for? Entertainment?”
Velma rolls her head over towards her for half a beat, eyes twinkling. “Among other things.”
Daphne nearly chokes at the seductive tone in her voice. She’s not imagining that, right? Velma looks mischievous, teasing, and lighthearted in a way that she doesn’t usually look at Daphne. That can’t be all in her head. “Um…” she tries to stall for time, tries to get brave. “Such as?” she asks, voice barely more than a whisper. Velma might not even be able to hear her, maybe. Hopefully.
“Your snacks, for one,” Velma says, snagging the small bag of Doritos out of Daphne’s hands. Definitely heard her, then.
“AKA: my money,” Daphne says surprising both herself and Velma with the edge that seeps into her voice.
Velma’s hand is suddenly on her thigh. A sudden squeeze meant to draw her sole attention.
It works.
Daphne’s head snaps over to Velma and meets her intense, focused gaze. “That is not what I meant,” she says, insistent. “God, Daph, I would never—”
“I know,” Daphne cuts her off. “I was joking.” Velma’s hand doesn’t leave her thigh. “I know,” Daphne repeats. The heat emanating from Velma’s hand feels like it’s scalding her. Like it might burn her alive.
“Daph,” says Velma, voice low and husky. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” Daphne repeats. She puts her hand on top of Velma’s. “I know.”
“Okay.”
The moment feels charged. Velma doesn’t move away, and Daphne doesn’t either. The air in the van suddenly feels thick, the space between them smaller than it should be, and Daphne doesn’t think she can breathe through it. She just looks down at their hands, and holds on.
“Daph…” Velma says, and doesn’t follow it up with anything. Daphne swallows thickly and turns to look up at her. Velma’s gaze is… like nothing that Daphne has ever really seen on her before. It's sort of close to how she looks right before she realizes that she’s solved a mystery; a buzzing excitement, her whole body thrumming with anticipation, nearly bursting at the seams with it. Determination always comes with that look, and it’s full force on Velma’s face now.
“Yeah?” is all that Daphne can croak out.
“Do you…” Velma licks her lips, eyes intent on Daphne’s face and her whole body might explode. Daphne sucks in a thick breath and leans closer towards Velma, what she plans to do after that, she has no unearthly idea, she just wants to be closer. She always wants to be closer to Velma.
Before Daphne can respond, can gather herself up enough to lean further into Velma’s space, to hear the way that Velma’s breath hitches, Daphne’s eyes catch movement out the window. “Oh fuck,” she breathes. “Look!”
Velma’s head whips around and then she turns back to Daphne, a brilliant, determined smile on her face. “Go time,” she says with a laugh.
And then the two of them are out the door and at a run, pent up adrenaline being released in an entirely different way.
…
five.
…
Scooby Doo head-butts her, and Daphne snaps.
“Cut it out,” she hisses at him, again.
Not two seconds later, a wet nose presses up against her thigh and Daphne growls. “Shaggy! Make him stop,” she orders.
“Huh?” Shaggy looks up from his meal, sauce dripping down his face and it takes everything Daphne has in her not to snap at him too.
“Make. Him. Stop.”
“Scoob, come on now. Leave Daph alone.”
Scooby whines in front of her, still trying to get her attention. “What?” Daphne hisses at him. “What do you want?”
In response to her question, he opens up his maw, clamps down on Daphne’s skirt, and tugs. Daphne screams—loudly. A high-pitched thing that, frankly, even she is embarrassed about, but this is simply the final straw today. “My skirt!” The rip in the fabric feels like it’s as loud as a gunshot and she wants to sit down, and cry, and leave this stupid day in the dirt where it belongs.
“Scoob!” Shaggy scolds, leaping up to try to grab him away from Daphne. In the process, half of her skirt is torn off of her body and Daphne might actually commit a murder today. That dog is fucking dusted. Shaggy must see it in her eyes, because his own bug out and his voice goes high and tinny. “Daph, don’t, he’s just a puppy—”
“He is almost eight goddamn years old,” Daphne bites. “Which is a middle aged grown ass man in human years and I am gonna kill him right now!”
“No! Daph!”
Daphne lunges and Shaggy catches her around the middle exactly at the moment that Fred and Velma walk into the room. “What is going on?” Fred calls.
“I’M GONNA KILL THAT DOG!”
“FRED, HELP ME! SHE’S GONE CRAZY!”
“Do not call her crazy!” Velma snaps.
Scooby howls loudly.
“What is going on?” Fred exclaims.
“MURDER!”
“Daph, your skirt is—”
“I KNOW, FRED!”
“Okay!” Velma says, loudly but calmly. “Absolutely not. Fred, get Shaggy and Scooby out of here, now. Daphne, come with me.”
Nobody moves.
“Now,” Velma says, voice low and not to be trifled with.
Fred jumps into action and gets a hold of Shaggy, who grabs Scooby by the collar, and in about five seconds flat, hauls them both out of there leaving Daphne alone and fuming.
“Why did you do that?” Daphne screeches and leaps to follow after them, only for Velma to catch her around the middle. Daphne always forgets how strong Velma is until she’s holding her.
“Daph, breathe,” Velma says. “I’ve got you. Breathe.”
“I’m gonna kill that dog.”
“You love that dog, you’re just mad at him right now.”
“I do not love that dog!”
“Daph, you give him more treats than anyone.”
“I DO NOT!”
“It’s our secret,” Velma laughs. “I promise.”
Daphne pulls at her ripped skirt, realizing for the first time that basically, her underwear is visible through her tights. She feels exposed and on display. “Fuck,” she mumbles. “My skirt.” She drops her head down onto Velma’s shoulder and starts to cry. “Today sucks so bad.”
Velma’s arms hold her, one hand on her back rubbing slow, soothing circles. “I know,” she whispers. “I know. I’ve got you.”
Daphne becomes very aware of the fact that she is in Velma’s arms a moment later, once all of the anger has started to zap out of her. She is in Velma’s arms. She’s thought about this a hundred different ways over the years, been in this position more times than she can count, but it feels very different, now.
Velma’s body suddenly goes ridged underneath her, and she knows that Velma feels it, too. “Um…” Daphne starts, unsure what she actually wants to say. Velma’s arms grip her tighter and Daphne can feel her holding her breath. “Velma…” she swallows thickly and shifts her head, just slightly. Before she can think about the implications of it, her lips scrape across Velma’s neck with the motion, and the gasp that Velma lets out goes straight to Daphne’s core. She freezes.
“Daphne…” Velma whispers in a strangled, raspy voice.
“Sorry,” Daphne says.
“Don’t be.”
Daphne doesn’t think her body could possibly get tauter, but she feels as stiff as a board. “What?” she whispers. Underneath her, Velma shivers. Daphne’s lips are still half an inch from her skin, and her breath is hitting Velma’s neck.
“You… um, don’t have to be sorry.”
“Okay.”
Daphne should do something. What does Velma mean by that? Don’t be sorry because it was mostly just an accident? and she doesn’t hold it against her? Or don’t be sorry because Velma liked it? She wants her to do it again? Daphne has no idea. She wants to ask, but she can’t make the words come out of her mouth. Instead—like an insane person—Daphne presses another kiss to the side of Velma’s neck. It’s basically chaste. Over in less than a second, but the effect it has on both of them feels enormous. Velma clutches her tighter, lets out a shaky gasp, and then says, “Daph,” in a breathy tone that might kill Daphne on the spot. Daphne holds onto Velma and forces herself to lean back and look at her face.
When they lock eyes, Velma’s are dark. Pupils dilated, and Daphne feels hotter than she did that one time they were escaping a literal burning building. Velma starts to lean her face up, and Daphne starts to bend down, but before either of them can do anything, say anything, Fred’s voice calls out and shocks them both—causing them to jump apart.
“Is murder off the table for today now?” he asks cheerfully.
“Not even close,” Daphne says through gritted teeth. “Now I just wanna murder you.”
Velma laughs and then she tugs her sweater up over her shoulders, causing Daphne to suck in a sharp breath. Velma steps back into her space and wraps her arms around Daphne’s waist. Daphne does not move her body even an inch as Velma ties her sweater around her, concealing her ripped skirt a bit better. “No murdering your ex-boyfriend,” she whispers, a teasing, playful to her voice. “We like him, remember?”
“Less and less as the moments tick by, actually,” Daphne whispers back.
Velma locks eyes with her again. Bold as she says, “I understand the feeling.” Before Daphne can respond, Velma lifts up on her toes, presses a gentle kiss to Daphne’s check, and turns back around to Fred. “No murders are imminent,” she declares. “But Scooby is absolutely in the doghouse.” Velma walks over towards Fred to go join the others.
“That’s fair,” Fred laughs as the two of them turn and begin to walk away.
“No,” Daphne whispers to herself, slowly following after them. “None of this is far at all.”
…
plus, one.
…
She thinks about it for all of five seconds before the words just… drop out of her mouth. “Oh,” Daphne says, staring down at the map in her hands. “Oh, I… I figured it out.”
“What!?” Velma scrambles across the table—literally, climbs out of her chair and crawls across the table and half falls onto Daphne’s lap in her grab for the map. “What!?” she says again, breathless with excitement.
“It’s Grantham,” says Daphne, referencing the man they had suspected from the start, then dismissed early on. Daphne had been the only one who kept thinking that it might have been him. They’d all been so sure…
“Oh my god,” Velma breathes out with a raspy laugh. “You were right. Of course, you were right. I should have known.” She looks proud, practically beaming down at Daphne with it. “You’re brilliant, Daph. God, I love you so much.” And then, before Daphne can reply, Velma is kissing her.
The angle is a bit off, because of the way that Velma is still half up on the table, and half in Daphne’s lap. Daphne is almost too shocked to even kiss Velma back for the first few seconds, but, once she realizes what is actually happening—finally! happening—once she gets her brain in order, she breathes out a happy sigh and reaches her hands up to grip Velma’s hair at the roots. Daphne absolutely melts at the little groan that Velma emits and drags her down further into her lap. Overall, the kiss is a bit sloppy, and just the slightest bit awkward. There is a little too much teeth for Daphne’s taste, and Velma’s glasses are knocking against her face, and her lips are a little chapped, but she is warm, and soft, and letting out little moans into Daphne’s mouth, and she kissed her! and it all feels like the best kind of dream.
“Oh,” Velma breathes, pulling back just the slightest bit. “Oh, wow. That was…”
“A wonderful first try.”
“Oh my god, Daphne!” Velma yelps, incredulous.
“We can do better,” Daphne says with a shrug. “We want it to get better. If it peaks the first time and then goes downhill from there, where’s the fun in that?”
“Oh,” Velma scrunches up her face, looking absolutely adorable, and then grins devilishly down at Daphne. Before Daphne can say something smooth, or even something cheesy, or sweet, or anything, Velma grinds her core down into Daphne’s. “You’re right,” she whispers. “I do love to work at something diligently until I get it right.”
“Oh, fuck,” Daphne rasps.
“We’ll get to that,” Velma says, voice radiating delicious promise. Daphne grabs hold of her face, pulls Velma in, and kisses her soundly.