A/N: Hello, my ever-faithful friends. This is my very first drabble. You see, I needed to loosen up and get somethin' published eventually. And yes, I realize that when it comes to getting things up on the site, that I am slow. But do not worry, for I AM working on that. But please R&R, because that is the nice thing to do, and I would enjoy it very very much! Bye now! Hope that you review!

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He had always loved her eyes.

Even though she had always wanted to get rid of her glasses and get colored contacts instead, he never really agreed with it. Velma just wouldn't be Velma without her trademark, black-rimmed coke-bottle glasses perched delicately upon her nose, usually wrinkled in an attempt to figure out what the next clue really meant. Luckily for him, she never found the time to change her looks.

Unfortunately, this meant that she never had time for a boyfriend, either.

He knew that it was wishful thinking whenever he thought that Velma might like him the way that he liked her, that she might accept an offer to go out with him for dinner and maybe a cup of coffee as more then friends. That she might ever love him like he had always loved her.

No. She would never look at him that way, feel about him that way. Or ever want to, for that matter. After all, he was just a goofball in her eyes, a way to lure the "creature" into whatever crazy trap had been concocted at the last second.

But she had called him her hero, had she not? He argued with himself as he leaned wearily against the kitchen counter, his hair hanging limply in front of his eyes. She had said that he was brave, something which he knew that he was not, or ever would be

It still wouldn't stop him from looking into her eyes at every chance he got, though. Nothing would ever stop him from loving his best and closest friend.

The color of her eyes was what fascinated him the most. They were not quite brown, but rather, a soft, light...something. It was like brown, he knew that, but it wasn't as simple a color, oh no, nothing like that. They were gentle, and comforting, and generally familiar. The man turned around as his eyes swept across the kitchen counter, looking for inspiration, as he found that he could remember and relate things best to some source of food. And as his weary gaze passed over a bottle by the toaster, it hit him.

Maple syrup. Her eyes were the color of maple syrup, if just a shade lighter, and not quite as rich, but just as deep and sweet. And her glasses only magnified them, exposing the all-too-many shades of gold and red blended within them. They were forever embedded into his thoughts, and his musings. Every time he tried to copy something down, like a grocery list, he would find himself sketching them out, shaping out the delicate eyelashes that framed them. And everytime, until he saw her again, he would lose himself in the drawing which did them no justice. But it was enough for when he was without her beautiful, soulful brown eyes that were never quite brown, but not quite anything else either.

They were hers, and hers alone.

He had often imagined what they would be like, if Velma and he were together, a couple, maybe even one day, a family. But he knew that those chances were slim to none of ever occuring beyond his dreams. The only people that she even bothered to date were all as smart as, or even smarter, then she was in terms of mental capacity; whatever that meant. She would always joke around with him, when it came to deciphering clues, and called him "clueless"--to which the rest of the gang would laugh, before getting back down to business. He was smarter then he ever let on to them; in fact, he would even figure out some of the clues. They just didn't listen to what he was saying. They only listened to the person who had a reputation.

Not that he was jealous, oh God, no. He just wished that his friends could see past--well, him. It seemed that no one could see past his flaws. He knew just how many he had, and only God knew just how many times that he'd tried to change, all for their sake, and for their public image, and failed miserably.

But sometimes, Velma would see who he really was, and see past the facade, to whom he really was on the inside. And they would have fun, they really would. But of course, it would never last long. Someone else would butt in and steal her away, as if they knew what he really felt for her, and were secretly telling him, "Back off, you sick freak. You don't belong with her, and you never will. So just run away you coward, and let her have a real life, with someone who actually deserves to be with her. Now go away, and go crawl in a hole somewhere and die. We don't want you around here. Scram."

And he usually did.

He didn't know why he had been cursed with this burden. He always heard that it was better to love and lose then to never love at all...but he had never lost what it was that he loved. He had never had Velma as his own, so could this count? He just didn't know anymore.

But he wished to death that he could.

As he stood there, his head in his hands, trying not to think about what he always thought about, a soft, heavenly voice reached his ears, startling him out of his reverie. "Shaggy?"

The beatnik spun around to face the beautiful, bespectacled young girl before him, quickly plastering a fake smile upon his face. If Velma ever found out about what he felt, he would lose everything that he loved and cherished the most, including her friendship; for, even though he would always want more then that, he was grateful to even have what he had. Although, as he stared into her deep maple eyes, he found the smile fading fast off his face as he lost himself in them, if only for a few seconds. "L-like hi, Velms."

She looked at him awkwardly, seemingly afraid of something before her eyes flickered away, his own smile flickering along with it. "Hi," she whispered. "I was looking for you."

"Well, um..." he stumbled briefly, trying to think of what to say. "Y-you didn't r-really have to look that far, I-I mean, if you consider it, me and Scoob are kinda always in-in here." He sighed, and turned away. Well, that was smooth, he thought.

"Yeah, but that's the point. You're usually in here with Scooby. I don't think that I've ever really seen you in here without him." Velma replied, her eyes scorching his back questionably.

"Oh. Like, um..." He was at a loss for words. Not entirely uncommon, mind you, especially when he was around her, but this was an interesting case. "Well, yeah, I guess, but you're never really in here a lot, so how would you know?" Phew. Good save. Or so he thought.

"I sometimes watch you and Scooby when you're in here."

"Oh." Well, that was unexpected. He couldn't help asking: "Why?"

"Because," she said. "It's kinda funny to watch you two when you try to make something that has no real recipe, and that no one else would ever eat. Plus, you just seem so--I dunno--happy, and, I guess, more relaxed, then--" She stopped, as if she were uncomfortable about what she was about to say next.

"Then what?"

Velma looked down at her feet, embarassed. "Then you are around me," she finished, barely audible. He still managed to hear her, though. And it was true; he was rather awkward around her. But he had to be distant, and tense. Either that, or be so close to her that she would most definitely suspect something was going on. Guess that she figured it out this way, too.

"Oh," he said, again, simply for the lack of something to say, and for the almost-suffocating silence that seemed to swallow up the entire kitchen. He stared morosely at the counter, his back still to the girl behind him, the only one in the world who made him feel as if he were on fire and frozen solid at the same time, who made chills run up and down his spine just at a simple touch.

"Shaggy." Her hand brushed the back of his neck, before resting on his shoulder. He turned around, a curtain of hair hanging in his eyes, wondering what exactly his "friend" was up to, his breath catching as her eyes met his own. "I--I want-- or rather, I need --to try something. But I need you to not freak out, and to not overeact. Okay?"

"Like, i-it depends on what it is." He swallowed, his stomach suddenly uneasy, as if it were full of butterflies, his hands sweating profusely. He wiped them against the side of his t-shirt, before hanging them awkwardly at his sides, unsure of what to do with them.

"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Norville, do you trust me?"

She had used his name. Velma had called him by his first name. Something had to be wrong. Or whatever was on her mind was serious. No one ever called him by his first name unless something big or something really, really bad or serious had happened to them, or someone that was close to them. Either way, it was big, whatever she was talking about, and it was important to her. And he had always trusted her. If she had told him to jump off of a 247-story building wearing a chicken suit, he would do it without a second thought. So the answer, for him at least, was simple.

"Yes."

"Then close your eyes." He did. "And just--don't move."

His thoughts wandered aimlessly in the dark, vaguely pondering what Velma was doing, as she gently reached up and held his face in her delicately small hands, her thumbs grazing his jawbone in continuous circles. He could here her breathing grow louder, as if she was trying to work up the courage to do something. But she was always so brave, he thought. What would she have to work up the courage to--

At that point, all thoughts ceased to exist within his head when he felt her lips brush against his, tentatively at first, but growing more passionate at each passing second.

His mind was a whirlwind of emotions: shock, surprise, wonder, excitement, happiness, hope, passion, love, joy. This had to be a dream, oh yes; it had to be a dream, for there was no way that it could actually happen in real life. He knew that he would have to wake up sooner or later, emerge from the ever-changing waters of the world of various fantasies. But for now he just wanted to drown in her almond vanilla scent, her soft warm lips on his own semi-chapped ones, and the heat eminating from the passion between the two running down to his feet and back to his head, leaving him dizzy with glee, and filling up his chest, almost as if it had been vacant of anything else before. His arms slid around her waist as hers wrapped themselves around his neck, her fingers weaving themselves into his hair, as he responded to her gentle caresses along the nape of his neck. Love was poured out from his lips and his heart into hers, hope pounding in his head, praying desperately that she would accept it, and not just toss it onto the ground, out the window, or anywhere, for that matter. But for that precise moment in life, everything was simply--

Perfect.

And it felt like it would never end. But, like all good things it life, it had to.

And, eventually, it did.

As they pulled apart, her arms still around his neck, and his still around her waist, the tension that had filled the atmosphere previously had doubled, at least. Both of them were breathing hard, their hearts pounding furiously, nervously, tremulously. The dam was broken; all emotions had been set loose now, out in the open for either one to see. And they couldn't be taken back or bluffed. Now, they had to face the music.

He opened his eyes briefly, before lowering his eyes to the floor, staring at both his and Velma's feet. No, this was no dream. It couldn't be. He almost wished that it could've been, though. He didn't want to lose her, or everyone else, for that matter. Now, however, as guilt began to descend upon his shoulders, he knew that he had just blown all possible ways of everything staying the same, of nothing changing.

He knew that he had screwed up. But there was no going back. And there never would be.

He could feel her breathing hard, trying to catch the breath back that he had stolen from her. Another wave of guilt struck him, and he bit his lip, upon which only seconds ago had held hers almost teasingly. He braced himself for the scolding, the yelling, the tears and frustration which would soon be dealt out and released. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could manage, and waited, throwing up every wall and lined up every defence that he could manage. He tensed up, and waited for the verbal attacks to come.

Only, they never came.

He opened his eyes timidly, bringing them up slowly, and almost reluctantly, to her face, to find her staring at him, an apologetic look in her beautiful, silky eyes. But there was something else there, which confused him greatly. Was that what he thought it was? Was it--? No. He would not allow himself to be hopeful. Not when everything that mattered to him hung so heavily and tremulously in the balance.

"Norville." Her voice, so soft it was, woke him from his trance, bringing him reluctantly back to reality. "Look at me."

He brought his eyes up shyly into hers, his heart pounding fiercely as he struggled to breathe slowly and calmly. Those beautiful maple eyes would be the death of him, that he always knew. She spoke again.

"I--I don't know how to say this," she began. "But--over the past few months, I've--I've been thinking a-about us and--and I don't know if you'd ever or even do feel the same way, but--Jinkies, this is hard--"

This was a dream. It absolutely had to be. Either that, or he was high on some glorious drug which had been mixed up with his allergy medication by mistake.

"Shag--I'm just going to come out and say this."

His knees were starting to buckle underneath him, and the world swam before his eyes.

"I--I think I'm--falling in love with you."

Then, before Velma could continue, he slumped to the kitchen floor, and all went black.

(---------------------------------------)

"Shaggy? Shaggy, wake up, please! Please wake up. Please?"

Ah. So it had been a dream after all. He wished that he didn't have to wake up again; the dream had been so beautifully and wonderfully perfect.

He reluctantly opened his eyes, to find none other then Velma staring down at him, worry and panic shining brightly in her eyes. As his eyes refocused, adjusting to the light again, he found himself in the kitchen, with her arms wrapped around him, propping him up with his head on her forearm.

"Jinkies, you scared me there, Shag." She breathed a sigh of relief, forgetting for a moment what she had said. But the bespectacled young girl remembered soon enough, and her skin paled considerably.

"Oh. Oh no. Shag, please don't hate me for what I said. It's just--I've been keeping this in for so long, and--and I just needed to get it out, because I care about you so much--but those may be the wrong words for that. I care so much about our friendship, and what would happen with the gang, what they would think, and whether or not you would hate me for falling in love with you like this, especially when we're such close friends, and, Jinkies, if you want, I could quit the gang and find a job somewhere else so that things wouldn't be awkward between us, not like they wouldn't be in the first place, but--"

As she blathered on fretfully, his mind tried to comprehend what she was saying, having just woken from a slight fainting spell. For one, why would he ever hate her? He could never hate her, not for all of the riches in the wor--

Wait, what? Did--did she just say that she--?

Zoinks.

She did. She did? Didn't she? She did.

She said that she had fallen in love with him. Not that she loved him, like as in a friend or a brother or anything like that, but that she was in love with him.

His mind stopped working at that point. Velma loved him? But--but she had never shown any signs of being in love with him at all. Sure, she hadn't followed him around and hung onto him like wet laundry on a clothes line, but she hadn't acted any differently then she usually did. Although...she had been staring at him weirdly sometimes, but he just assumed that she was just staring at him for staring at her. It was so hard not to, though. She was just so--so--

So her.

He knew that that statement made no sense whatsoever. Oh, he knew it well enough. But it was the only way that he could think of to describe her that could ever truly describe her.

Cute was for newborn babies and little kids. Sweet was for sleeping toddlers who were exhausted from playing all day at the park. Adorable was for second graders dressed up in costumes for a school play. Pretty was for little girls who dressed up like a princess for future Halloweens to come. Gorgeous was for Prom Night daughters, heading out to discover the "real" meaning of what they believed to be "love". Hot was for busty models in dirty magazines (not that he ever wanted to look at them). Sexy was for the slutty girls who hung out in gas stations to wait for someone to pick them up and take them home for the night. Heavenly was for fantasy girls that don't and never will exist. And beautiful was for Shakespeare dramas or soap operas. None of which quite described Velma. She was like a combination of them all; or, better yet, her own category altogether. She was just--

Her.

He found himself listening to someone say his name, over and over again, soon realizing that it was actually Velma. She had noticed that he wasn't quite listening to what she was saying, wasn't quite all there, and was trying to get his attention.

"Shaggy? Shaggy? Are--are you okay?" He looked up at her, and an idea formed in his head. He smiled, earning a look of surprise on her own angelic face. He reached up a hand to caress her cheek, earning a contented sigh as his long, elegant fingers grazed the edge of her slight, delicate ear, just barely brushing the arm of her glasses before doing the bravest thing that he'd ever dared to do.

He reached up and kissed her, pulling her head lightly towards his to deepen it. It was a soft, slow, warm, passionate kiss, that seemed to never end. The two pulled apart several times, but only to catch a momentary breath before diving back down into the other's heart and soul. Only one thought ran through his head, over and over and over again, like a bird having finally broken free of its restraining cage that sang out loud the same words, over and over again in his head:

I love you I love you I love you I love you oh God I love you I love you I love you I love you so much that it almost hurts but I still love you I'll always love you I'll never stop loving you until the day I die I love you I love you I love you I love you Even when I die I'll still love you I'll love you whether I'm in heaven or hell but it won't matter as long as I'm with you for the rest of eternity I love you I love you I love you so much and you can trust me to never stop loving you because I cannot and never will stop.

Between breaths, he knew that he murmured these words to her, and he knew that she heard them. He knew that they were meant to be together forever, and that she knew too. He knew that she was crying tears of happiness down her face which fused together with his own, and that they were smiling and laughing and crying all at once, their lips still joined together as fireworks seemed to explode around their heads and in their lives and in their beating hearts. Nothing seemed to matter anymore except for the fact that for the first time in their lives, they had found true, pure, soulful love.

They had found a soulmate in each other. And they were never letting go.

As they pulled apart, they smiled, purely smiled, as they gazed at each other, each saving away a memory of the other for this divinely perfect moment; for him it was her maple syrup eyes, sparkling with tears that ran down her porcelin skin like crystal rivers, shining brightly with love and hope. For her it was not only his golden lion-like eyes which sparkled mischeviously, but his scent as well: the simple scent of sandalwood, which hung heavily in his clothes and skin, but fitting him so well; and that for him to have any other scent the that was something that she could never imagine him without.

"Shaggy?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"Like, I love you too."

And they grinned at each other, unable to stop, even if they wanted to. For when you find the love of your life, you never wanna stop smiling.

And when you're as happy as they are, you'll find that you'll never have to ever again.

FIN


A/N: Yeah, I don't think that this would be considered a drabble anymore. It was supposed to be one, but my mind saw potential in it, and it went on without me. I hope that you like it enough to leave your opinions and REVIEW, PLEASE!

That is all. Oh [disclaimer and I don't own them (SD affiliates); forgot to mention that (almost). Bye! And PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review, and you'll get a Scooby Snack! Hooray!

Toodles! and 'llik eht slerriuqs!' (it's backwards; they've begun to learn English, so hopefully this will confuse them) ;P. Bye!