Scooby Doo and the Sounder’s Swedish Meatball Specter Mystery 1/3
Thank you albion_lass for beta'ing and reassuring me that I'm not alone in my love for this pairing.
“No.”
“Come on, the rest of us are wearing costumes.”
“No.”
“Erik’s going to be wearing a dress. This is better than a dress.”
“Why can’t I be Fred?”
“Because the costume only came in child sizes and you’re the only one that will fit in it.”
The glare on Mike’s face deepens as he stares at Roger in his silly brown bell bottoms and puke green shirt. There’s a costume in Roger’s hand that’s fleece, brown, has ears, and has a collar. Mike is not into collars in any circumstances be it a desk job, Halloween, or kinky sex.
“Why do I have to be Scrappy? Can’t I be Scooby?”
“Pain Machine is Scooby.”
“I don’t think he’ll notice if he’s suddenly Scrappy.”
“He won’t but Jeff will. Jeff put a lot of work into making Pain Machine’s costume.”
A knock comes at the door of the small office Mike and Roger are standing in and Jeff sticks his head in. He’s wearing jeans, a white polo with a blue collar, and an ascot. Mike would laugh at him and tell him he looks like a douche except Mike’s the one about to be stuffed into a child sized Scrappy Doo outfit. Mike hates Scrappy Doo. Everyone hates Scrappy Doo. He focuses his glare on Pain Machine, the tiny Boston Terrier in Jeff’s arms. It’s wearing a brown knitted costume with black dots and the trademark Scooby Doo collar. Mike bets his right leg that Jeff knitted that himself. If Mike’s eyes could shoot lasers, Pain Machine would be a pile of ashes.
“Why are you not in costume yet?”
Mike’s scowl deepens as he looks at Jeff. “I don’t understand why I have to be Scrappy.”
“Because this was Pain Machine’s idea and he wanted to be Scooby.”
A small bark of agreement comes from Pain Machine. Roger and Jeff both coo and fawn over the dog, telling him how handsome and manly he looks in his costume. Mike wants to dash out of the room, but is blocked by the appearance of Brad. Brad is wearing a chunky yellow turtleneck, red pants, and thick, black rimmed glasses. He looks like he shot a hipster and stole his clothing… or found stuff in the back of Roger’s closet.
“Wait, why don’t I get to be Velma? I’m the smart one.”
“Just because you went to Harvard doesn’t mean you get to rub it in,” Brad huffs; Mike wants to punch Brad in the face and snap those glasses in half. Fucking hipsters.
“You can’t even get $500 when we watch Jeopardy.”
“I thought you were going to wear a skirt,” Roger cuts in before Brad and Mike can get into a bitch fight. “Erik’s not going to be happy.”
“Velma now feels skirts are a symbol of female oppression and has switched to pants which are more conducive to solving mysteries.” Jeff and Roger both nod at Brad’s logic and Mike wants the throttle the lot of them.
From down the hall in the direction of the locker rooms comes the sound of catcalls and whistling. A few seconds later Erik shuffles through the door with his head down and face bright red. Mike feels guilty that he was bitching about his costume as he sees Erik’s purple dress, green scarf, lavender tights, and flats. Erik even found a headband like Daphne’s to replace his own. On anyone else on the team the outfit would look ridiculous, but Erik manages to pull it off and look… lovely? Maybe it’s the hair or maybe it’s the slim, slightly curvy build he hides under his baggy practice wear, but Erik makes a convincing girl. Mike’s not the only one who’s noticed this as the other three men in the room are silent as well and Erik is squirming under their gazes.
Mike coughs and grabs the stupid brown onesie from Roger and storms back to the locker room to change.
* * *
“So why are we wearing costumes and going to IKEA?”
“Free Swedish meatballs if we go in costume,” Jeff informs Mike, who looks like a petulant child pouting in the back seat.
“Erik and I want to test the durability of the beds,” Roger tells Mike with a salacious wink; Mike twitches.
In the front, Jeff and Brad burst out laughing. Erik is pretty much sitting on Roger’s lap in the back next to him and Mike edges closer to the door. Pain Machine is sitting on Mike’s lap and all the earlier resentment toward the dog is now gone. Mike feels that Pain Machine might be the only other sane one in the car. Not that Mike is sure what sane is as he’s dressed in a brown fleece onesie that’s too small. He’s cut the feet off and it look like he’s wearing the world’s ugliest capris. The fact that there’s a hood with dog ears they forced him to wear makes him even grumpier. Sometimes Mike thinks God hates him.
“You know we could just buy Swedish Meatballs for ten bucks and make them at home.” Mike tells them. “I’ll even buy them so we don’t have to all go in.”
“But this is fun, isn’t that right gang?” Mike wants to grab Jeff’s ascot and strangle him with it. “Come on Scrappy Doo, buck up! You’re supposed to be the brave and tenacious one!”
“Tenacious?” Mike hears Erik whisper to Roger as Mike attempts to blow Jeff’s head up using the power of his glare.
Irritation bleeds out of Mike as he listens to Roger define the word for Erik and makes sure he understands. His eyes follow Roger’s fingers as Roger threads them through the tips of Erik’s hair. For all Mike’s huffing and puffing, he’s glad Roger and Erik are together. Roger’s been his best friend since the moment Mike arrived in Seattle and Mike has never seen him happier since Erik entered their lives. Mike feels like their secret cheerleader, their biggest fan boy. He scowls and looks away- not that he’d ever admit that or even tell them.
As the ‘Mystery Machine’ rolls into the IKEA parking lot, Mike notices it is unusually empty for lunch time on a Monday. Finding a parking spot close to the entrance is like finding chicken teeth, but for some reason Jeff is able to park them right next to the walk way. Mike can count the number of cars on his fingers. If the lights weren’t on, Mike would think they were closed, but the worker lot is full and the open sign is blinking.
“I wonder why it’s so empty,” Roger muses as he opens the door and helps Erik out.
“Let’s find out. Come on gang.” Mike’s going to punch Jeff if he keeps calling them ‘gang’.
They amble toward the entrance, Jeff in front, Erik and Brad in the middle, and Roger and himself bringing up the rear with Pain Machine in Roger’s arms. Mike can almost hear the song played in the TV show whenever the characters are walking around. dun dun duunnnnn duhnuhnuhnuhnuhnuhnuhhhhhhhhhhh. The automatic doors swish open and dead silence greets them. There’s a woman standing at the welcome desk, face pale and hands slightly trembling as she looks at them with large eyes. The five of them exchange an uneasy look.
“It’s rather empty today,” Jeff flashes his most disarming smile.
“Haven’t you heard?” She croaks out, eye twitching. “The Swedish Meatball Specter has been scaring everyone away.”
“The Swedish Meatball Specter?” They all ask at the same time, just like the real Scooby Doo gang would. Mike wants to bash his head against the wall.
“A ghost that haunts IKEA, scaring away customers and stealing Swedish Meatballs- today the Specter stole the freezer key and we can’t cook anything.”
“Jinkies!” Brad exclaims.
“Oh for fucks sake,” Mike finally explodes. “This is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Can we just go get tacos or something?”
“But… but…” Erik turns to stare at Mike. “I’m Swedish, I have to have Swedish meatballs or I can’t play on Wednesday.”
Erik looks like he’s honest to god about to lose it and start bawling. In the entrance of Ikea. Because he can’t have Swedish meatballs. Roger pulls Erik to him and starts whispering that everything is going to be okay. Mike wonders if he throws himself off the top of the building if he’ll die or just break his legs. Maybe if he went head first…
“There’s no such things as ghosts,” Brad says, lifting a finger in the air just like Velma would do. “Whoever it is obviously is looking for something or is trying to hurt IKEA’s business. And you know what that means.”
“We have a mystery on our hands!” Jeff finishes.
“No.”
“Come on, the rest of us are wearing costumes.”
“No.”
“Erik’s going to be wearing a dress. This is better than a dress.”
“Why can’t I be Fred?”
“Because the costume only came in child sizes and you’re the only one that will fit in it.”
The glare on Mike’s face deepens as he stares at Roger in his silly brown bell bottoms and puke green shirt. There’s a costume in Roger’s hand that’s fleece, brown, has ears, and has a collar. Mike is not into collars in any circumstances be it a desk job, Halloween, or kinky sex.
“Why do I have to be Scrappy? Can’t I be Scooby?”
“Pain Machine is Scooby.”
“I don’t think he’ll notice if he’s suddenly Scrappy.”
“He won’t but Jeff will. Jeff put a lot of work into making Pain Machine’s costume.”
A knock comes at the door of the small office Mike and Roger are standing in and Jeff sticks his head in. He’s wearing jeans, a white polo with a blue collar, and an ascot. Mike would laugh at him and tell him he looks like a douche except Mike’s the one about to be stuffed into a child sized Scrappy Doo outfit. Mike hates Scrappy Doo. Everyone hates Scrappy Doo. He focuses his glare on Pain Machine, the tiny Boston Terrier in Jeff’s arms. It’s wearing a brown knitted costume with black dots and the trademark Scooby Doo collar. Mike bets his right leg that Jeff knitted that himself. If Mike’s eyes could shoot lasers, Pain Machine would be a pile of ashes.
“Why are you not in costume yet?”
Mike’s scowl deepens as he looks at Jeff. “I don’t understand why I have to be Scrappy.”
“Because this was Pain Machine’s idea and he wanted to be Scooby.”
A small bark of agreement comes from Pain Machine. Roger and Jeff both coo and fawn over the dog, telling him how handsome and manly he looks in his costume. Mike wants to dash out of the room, but is blocked by the appearance of Brad. Brad is wearing a chunky yellow turtleneck, red pants, and thick, black rimmed glasses. He looks like he shot a hipster and stole his clothing… or found stuff in the back of Roger’s closet.
“Wait, why don’t I get to be Velma? I’m the smart one.”
“Just because you went to Harvard doesn’t mean you get to rub it in,” Brad huffs; Mike wants to punch Brad in the face and snap those glasses in half. Fucking hipsters.
“You can’t even get $500 when we watch Jeopardy.”
“I thought you were going to wear a skirt,” Roger cuts in before Brad and Mike can get into a bitch fight. “Erik’s not going to be happy.”
“Velma now feels skirts are a symbol of female oppression and has switched to pants which are more conducive to solving mysteries.” Jeff and Roger both nod at Brad’s logic and Mike wants the throttle the lot of them.
From down the hall in the direction of the locker rooms comes the sound of catcalls and whistling. A few seconds later Erik shuffles through the door with his head down and face bright red. Mike feels guilty that he was bitching about his costume as he sees Erik’s purple dress, green scarf, lavender tights, and flats. Erik even found a headband like Daphne’s to replace his own. On anyone else on the team the outfit would look ridiculous, but Erik manages to pull it off and look… lovely? Maybe it’s the hair or maybe it’s the slim, slightly curvy build he hides under his baggy practice wear, but Erik makes a convincing girl. Mike’s not the only one who’s noticed this as the other three men in the room are silent as well and Erik is squirming under their gazes.
Mike coughs and grabs the stupid brown onesie from Roger and storms back to the locker room to change.
* * *
“So why are we wearing costumes and going to IKEA?”
“Free Swedish meatballs if we go in costume,” Jeff informs Mike, who looks like a petulant child pouting in the back seat.
“Erik and I want to test the durability of the beds,” Roger tells Mike with a salacious wink; Mike twitches.
In the front, Jeff and Brad burst out laughing. Erik is pretty much sitting on Roger’s lap in the back next to him and Mike edges closer to the door. Pain Machine is sitting on Mike’s lap and all the earlier resentment toward the dog is now gone. Mike feels that Pain Machine might be the only other sane one in the car. Not that Mike is sure what sane is as he’s dressed in a brown fleece onesie that’s too small. He’s cut the feet off and it look like he’s wearing the world’s ugliest capris. The fact that there’s a hood with dog ears they forced him to wear makes him even grumpier. Sometimes Mike thinks God hates him.
“You know we could just buy Swedish Meatballs for ten bucks and make them at home.” Mike tells them. “I’ll even buy them so we don’t have to all go in.”
“But this is fun, isn’t that right gang?” Mike wants to grab Jeff’s ascot and strangle him with it. “Come on Scrappy Doo, buck up! You’re supposed to be the brave and tenacious one!”
“Tenacious?” Mike hears Erik whisper to Roger as Mike attempts to blow Jeff’s head up using the power of his glare.
Irritation bleeds out of Mike as he listens to Roger define the word for Erik and makes sure he understands. His eyes follow Roger’s fingers as Roger threads them through the tips of Erik’s hair. For all Mike’s huffing and puffing, he’s glad Roger and Erik are together. Roger’s been his best friend since the moment Mike arrived in Seattle and Mike has never seen him happier since Erik entered their lives. Mike feels like their secret cheerleader, their biggest fan boy. He scowls and looks away- not that he’d ever admit that or even tell them.
As the ‘Mystery Machine’ rolls into the IKEA parking lot, Mike notices it is unusually empty for lunch time on a Monday. Finding a parking spot close to the entrance is like finding chicken teeth, but for some reason Jeff is able to park them right next to the walk way. Mike can count the number of cars on his fingers. If the lights weren’t on, Mike would think they were closed, but the worker lot is full and the open sign is blinking.
“I wonder why it’s so empty,” Roger muses as he opens the door and helps Erik out.
“Let’s find out. Come on gang.” Mike’s going to punch Jeff if he keeps calling them ‘gang’.
They amble toward the entrance, Jeff in front, Erik and Brad in the middle, and Roger and himself bringing up the rear with Pain Machine in Roger’s arms. Mike can almost hear the song played in the TV show whenever the characters are walking around. dun dun duunnnnn duhnuhnuhnuhnuhnuhnuhhhhhhhhhhh. The automatic doors swish open and dead silence greets them. There’s a woman standing at the welcome desk, face pale and hands slightly trembling as she looks at them with large eyes. The five of them exchange an uneasy look.
“It’s rather empty today,” Jeff flashes his most disarming smile.
“Haven’t you heard?” She croaks out, eye twitching. “The Swedish Meatball Specter has been scaring everyone away.”
“The Swedish Meatball Specter?” They all ask at the same time, just like the real Scooby Doo gang would. Mike wants to bash his head against the wall.
“A ghost that haunts IKEA, scaring away customers and stealing Swedish Meatballs- today the Specter stole the freezer key and we can’t cook anything.”
“Jinkies!” Brad exclaims.
“Oh for fucks sake,” Mike finally explodes. “This is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Can we just go get tacos or something?”
“But… but…” Erik turns to stare at Mike. “I’m Swedish, I have to have Swedish meatballs or I can’t play on Wednesday.”
Erik looks like he’s honest to god about to lose it and start bawling. In the entrance of Ikea. Because he can’t have Swedish meatballs. Roger pulls Erik to him and starts whispering that everything is going to be okay. Mike wonders if he throws himself off the top of the building if he’ll die or just break his legs. Maybe if he went head first…
“There’s no such things as ghosts,” Brad says, lifting a finger in the air just like Velma would do. “Whoever it is obviously is looking for something or is trying to hurt IKEA’s business. And you know what that means.”
“We have a mystery on our hands!” Jeff finishes.