AN: I know, I've been majorly lurking lately, but between a trip to Europe, starting college, and then a death in the family, I haven't had much free time in which to write.

So, here's a one shot, featuring Snitch/Skitts and Specs/Dutchy!

This is in honor of a once a year event that happens in my hometown- it's called Farmer's Pike, and it's basically a huge flea market that's set up in a mowed down corn field. This fic should give you a good idea of what a Hoosier farmer's market is like…

Oh, and if you're Amish….well, first of all, what are you doing on a computer? But hey, I don't mean to offend any Amish people with this, but I'm just going by my general knowledge of their culture…and what I've seen and heard of them at the market firsthand…so don't rip me apart for getting it wrong, please…

"I can't believe you guys are dragging me to this hickfest," Dutchy said, taking the final turn into a bean-field-turned-parking-lot.

"Aw, come on…at least you'll get good food," Snitch said with a grin.

"And you'll get some entertainment for the evening," Skittery added.

Dutchy smirked, putting the car in park. "Yeah…food that'll make me gain ten pounds. And somehow, a woman who looks like a man singing 'Sweet Home Alabama' isn't my idea of entertainment."

Silence from the backseat. Well, mostly.

"And Skitts, watching you stick your tongue down Snitch's throat isn't very entertaining either."

"Aw, but-"

"No buts. Come on, let's get this overwith."

With that, they stepped out of the car and headed across the street, Dutchy feeling very much like a third wheel. Skittery and Snitch had been together since their freshman year, so after three and a half years of dating, they were inseparable.

The scent of manure and hay was strong in the air as they approached the small booth by the gate, paying the three dollar entry fee and entering the outdoor flea market. Booths were set up in wide rows for about 2 square miles, booths offering anything from jewelry to antiques to cashews to tree trunks carved to look like animals. Nothing was expensive, but there wasn't much worth buying either.

Not to mention, there were only three types of people in this place. 1. Hicks who actually came to buy 'country charm' items and listen to the horrible singing, 2. Teenagers from the surrounding small towns who had nothing better to do than come get their face painted, and 3. The Amish, who sold homemade furniture and home grown vegetables.

In other words, nothing Dutchy thought he was even remotely interested in.

Soon enough Snitch was dragging Skittery over to the stand with the snowcones, and Dutchy sat down on one of the nearby lawn chairs, already ready to just go home. This was the last place he wanted to be on a Friday night; they could've gone to the movies, or he could've been guy-watching at the mall, but no…Snitch insisted on giving Dutchy a 'new experience'.

Easy for him to say. He actually liked the song "Back In The USSR", which a completely tone deaf fat man was now crooning from the makeshift stage.

"Come on, Dutchy!"

Dutchy snapped back to attention at the sound of his name, and he stood and reluctantly followed the lovebirds down the aisle of booths. Dutchy poked around in a few of the booths, but found nothing of real interest.

"Are you guys almost done?" Dutchy asked them after going through about fifteen rows of the same stuff, watching Skittery quickly become a pack mule for his hyper money-happy boyfriend.

Snitch turned around, giving Dutchy the best puppy eyes he could manage. "One more row…please?"




"…I'll buy you a hot dog."

"And a coke?"



So it was settled, and they continued on for one more row. And at the end of said row, upon catching sight of the final booth in the row, Dutchy stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't even notice when Snitch ran into him from behind.

"Whoa, Dutchers! Why'd ya stop?" Snitch asked, and then followed Dutchy's gaze. "Oh…Oh!"

Dutchy was staring at the vegetable and fruit stand, but certainly not at the produce…his gaze was above that, at the young man who was presently selling a basket of apples to an old lady. His slightly curly brown hair fell over his forehead just so, framing his eyes, which were somewhat hidden behind glasses that weren't really in style but suited him just fine.

"He's…he's gorgeous," Dutchy said, finally breaking out of his speechless stupor.

Skittery put a hand on Dutchy's shoulder, leaning forward to speak right into his ear. "He's Amish, dude. Off limits."

That's when Dutchy began to focus more on something other than the boy's good looks, and he realized that Skittery was right. He wore one of the typical Amish hats and brown pants with suspenders over a white button up shirt, and the girl next to him (probably his sister) was wearing a simple brown dress and a white bonnet over her hair.

"Hey, Dutchy…Earth to Dutchy…" Snitch said, waving his hand in front of Dutchy's face. "Are you coming? We're, um…goin' to the car, dude."

Dutchy's face suddenly set in determination.

"I just got a sudden urge to buy some apples, guys," he said, walking over to the small booth. Skittery and Snitch rolled their eyes, but stayed put to watch the spectacle. It was something that they never even thought might happen; Dutchy hitting on an Amish guy? It was crazy.

Dutchy's stomach was doing flips as he approached the booth and pulled a few dollars out of his pocket. He came to a stop in front of the boy, who looked up at him and smiled.

"Apples are 50 cents apiece, sir, and pears are 60 cents," he said before looking back down at his receipt book, his voice stiffly formal and yet kind just the same.

"And how much for a date with you?"

The boy hesitated, and then looked up, looking quite flustered now. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said…how much for a date with you? Dinner? A movie, maybe?"

Now the boy was blushing furiously, looking to make sure that none of his family had overheard the request as he stammered.

"I…I can't…"

"Why not?"

"Well…you're just…"

"I'm what?"

"I'm a boy. You're a boy."

"And your point is…"

He stuttered some more as his sister came to pick up a few apples, and then quickly mumbled, "Are you going to buy something?"

Dutchy grinned. At least he knew he had a chance now, just from the way the other boy was acting. "I'll take four apples."

The embarrassed Amish boy shoved the four apples into a sack, then took Dutchy's 2 dollars and muttered a 'thank you', his face still bright red. Dutchy knew he couldn't just leave it at that.

"What's your name?" He asked the second the boy's sister had her back turned again.

"I…I'm Andrew. But…just call me Specs," he said, the smile returning to his face for a moment and practically making Dutchy's knees give out. That smile could touch on emotions he didn't know he had.

"Well, I'm Derick, but just call me Dutchy," Dutchy replied with a goofy grin. "I'll see you around, Specs."

With that he turned and walked away, leaving the poor Amish boy dumbfounded and confused. Skittery and Snitch had equally shocked looks on their faces when he came back looking so happy.

"So, Snitchy…what are you two doing tomorrow night?"

Sure enough, the next night Snitch and Skittery were back at the market, this time being dragged in by an overly excited Dutchy.

"Come on, guys, hurry!" Dutchy whined, walking backwards and almost tripping over someone's unattended bassett hound.

"Slow down! Goodness, he's not gonna run out of apples and leave," Skittery muttered. He'd never seen Dutchy this enthusiastic over a guy since...well, he'd never seen Dutchy this excited over a guy. And it was scaring him a bit that said guy just happened to be Amish. It was just plain odd.

And sure enough Specs was still there, smiling as he sold the apples to old ladies and parents looking for a healthy snack for their kids. Dutchy did the same thing that he'd done the night before; he waited until no one was standing in line, and Specs's sister was distracted.

Specs practically choked on the bite of pear in his mouth when he saw the blonde approaching the booth, and Dutchy smiled at the look on his face.

"50 cents for an apple, right?" He asked.

"Uh…yes," Specs answered.

"And how much again for a date with you?"

Specs gave Dutchy a skeptical look. "I told you yesterday…"

"Thought you might have changed your mind."

"Are you buying something?"

Once again, Dutchy asked for four apples, and Specs quickly put them in a sack and handed them over, taking the two one dollar bills from Dutchy.

"I'll see you around, Specs."

"Bye, Dutchy."

It really was simple, and the same thing happened the following night; Dutchy dragged Skittery and Snitch out to the Farmer's Pike, and they spent the time making out while he once again tried to convince the Amish boy to accompany him to dinner. And once again, the only response he got was the boy asking if he was going to buy anything.

But the next night was different.

"How much are the apples again?" Dutchy asked, beginning the game that they'd played for three nights already with little variation.

"Apples are 50 cents, and a date with me is free for certain blondes," Specs said, and Dutchy looked up in surprise. "But the offer expires in ten seconds."

"I'll take that offer."

Specs smiled, and then turned and yelled to his sister that he was taking an early dinner break. He left the booth and met Dutchy a ways away from the booth, where his family couldn't see them.

"Why are you so persistent?" He asked Dutchy as they began to walk aimlessly.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Well…because I'm…"



"Do you like funnel cake?"

Specs's brow knitted in confusion. "Well, yes, but-"

"Then there's no problem."

Soon enough Specs and Dutchy were walking through the fair, sharing a funnel cake and just discussing anything that came to mind, mainly marveling over the differences and similarities in their cultures. After only about fifteen minutes they passed the entertainment pavilion, where a new person was taking the stage…

"Oh my God," Dutchy said, his eyes widening as he realized that Skittery was presently doing a microphone test and handing the guitarist some music.

"What's wrong?" Specs asked, looking from Dutchy to the stage and back to Dutchy. Dutchy didn't answer as the first strains of the song began, the only country song he'd ever really fallen in love with: "Amazed", by Lonestar.

And Skittery's voice wasn't bad at all; in fact, he sounded like he should've been the one to sing it in the first place. Of course, he always put every ounce of effort he had into it when Snitch was around. For a moment though, Skittery looked away from Snitch and spotted Dutchy in the crowd, throwing him a wink.

"Dutchy? You okay?" Specs asked, and Dutchy nodded.

"Wanna dance?" Dutchy asked him, and his eyes widened.

"I can't…it's not allowed," Specs said, but Dutchy could tell he was tempted. He tugged on Specs's sleeve and motioned for him to follow, and Dutchy led him to the house of the owners of the property, right beside the stage. Behind the house was an aviary, filled with plants and doves. Dutchy looked around and then opened the door, pulling Specs in.

"Forget about what's allowed," Dutchy said, pulling Specs close to him and beginning to slow dance, the cooing of the doves and the flittering of their wings barely heard over Skittery's smooth voice. Specs was stiff at first, but soon relaxed into Dutchy.

It was peaceful for Dutchy, if not a little odd, slow dancing with an Amish boy in an aviary full of inquisitive little white birds to a song one of his best friends was singing.



"Why'd you want a date with me so bad?"

Dutchy grinned. "Cause those apples were really good."


"You're right. I don't even like apples. My sister ate them."


Dutchy sighed happily. "I don't know…I just saw you, and I just had to talk to you. It just…it just seemed right."

"Well…do you want to know the truth?"

"What's that?"

Specs looked down at the birdseed covered ground and blushed. "I felt the same way."

And as Skittery hit the final line of the song, Dutchy tilted Specs's face up, leaned forward, and caught his lips in a kiss, the doves cooing happily all around them.

AN: Eh…it's okay. Nothin' stellar. I just had inspiration after spending two evenings in a row at my hometown Farmer's Pike.