Don't Play Cupid if You Can't Handle Being Shot in the Butt

Prologue

Donut slid quietly into the chair next to Doc in the library. His uncharacteristically low-key entrance caught Doc's attention, so he lay his book down on the table and cast his best friend a worried look over the top of his glasses.

"Donut? Is everything--?" before he could finish his sentence Donut had answered the question by slamming his head down on to the desk with a groan, causing several other students to glance around in annoyance and confusion. Doc sighed.

"Want to go get lunch?" he asked, knowing whatever was bothering his friend would be best discussed in an environment where judgment wouldn't be passed on loud noises. Donut nodded, insomuch as he dragged his face up and down the table. Doc frowned at him before standing and packing his books away into his bag, but Donut hadn't yet moved, even to lift his head. Doc sighed again, scratching his nose under the bridge of his glasses and hoisting is bag firmly onto his shoulder before he forcefully dragged his friend from his seat. With another dramatic groan he was vertical, and with a final pat on the back they made their way to the cafeteria.

Doc kept a close eye on the other boy as the sat down at their usual table; knowing it was only a matter of time before he couldn't hold in what was bothering him any more, so he waited patiently. After not very long at all Donut began to fidget in his seat, frequent sighs accompanied by glances at Doc to check he was still paying attention. His friend, however, had gone back to reading.

"It's just driving me crazy, you know?" he finally burst out. Doc looked up from his book.

"What is?" he asked, although he had already guessed.

"Grif and Simmons, of course!" Donut threw his hands into the air, his expression anguished. Doc could have laughed at the melodrama but he knew it would have upset him.

"Of course." he said instead, nodding sagely at the blond boy.

"They're just so darn stubborn," Donut said, clearly exasperated and no longer paying attention to Doc, "Y'know, it's just so obvious that they're made for each other but they keep fighting it! I don't know what else to do!" he wailed, throwing himself down on the table.

Doc knew that Donut had been trying for weeks now to set up their friends with no luck. He had organized movie trips where everyone else had mysteriously dropped out at the last minute, given them coupons for a romantic meal at a seafood restaurant that Donut couldn't use because of his shellfish allergy, and had even resorted to hanging mistletoe around his house and inviting them over.

Donut had, of course, dragged Doc along to stalk them on their various "dates", so he had seen first hand Donut's horror when the two picked the latest comedy filled with fart jokes to see, and hadn't even sat next to each other. Instead, they had left a seat in between them free, which was piled high with food. They were almost kicked out of the restaurant for flicking shrimps at each other and disturbing the other patrons by shouting "Eat shrimp, scum!" and "That's a langoustine you uncivilized fuck!" while crouching under the table. Donut had almost cried. The movie night mistletoe plot had failed when Simmons caught sight of the small plant and removed it before Donut had even got them drinks, reminding him it was bad luck to leave Christmas decorations up this late in the year. Donut had sulked all the way through the movie, even Lizzie and Darcy's epic love story doing nothing for his terrible mood.

Doc hesitated. He knew exactly what he could do to make his frustrated best friend feel better, but he also had a sneaking suspicion he would end up regretting it. The sad sight of Donut flopped on the lunch table- undercut not trimmed in weeks; pink nail polish chipped- was enough for Doc to overcome his doubts. He sighed again anyway, for good measure.

"Hey, Frankie?" he said, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. Donut turned his head slightly to look up at Doc, a truly miserable expression on his face. Doc steeled himself, "How about you take a break from the matchmaking," he pushed on before Donut could protest, "and throw a party? You know, cheer yourself up. Have some fun."

Doc saw Donut's baby blue eyes widen at the suggestion and before he could say anything else the blond had jumped up from his seat, enthusiasm practically making him sparkle.

"You're right, Doc! That is exactly what I need. I'll throw the best summer bash this school has ever seen!" his loud voice was drawing the attention of some of the other students, but Donut was already in a world of his own, staring off into space, his eyes bright with determination.

"And no matchmaking?" Doc reminded him.

"You don't need matchmaking to have fun at one of my parties," Donut said, almost offended except for the excitement in his voice, "Come on Frankie, let's go start planning!"

Doc smiled, happy to see his friend back to his usual self. He got up to follow Donut, who was already halfway across the cafeteria, practically skipping through the students. Doc jogged after him, thinking fondly about the things he did for his best friend.

Donut went home at the end of that day elated. Yes, Grif and Simmons were driving him insane. Yes, it had already taken him double the time getting them together than it had done for York and Carolina or Church and Tex. It had really been getting him down, but now Doc had given him the best distraction ever.

Donut reached his bedroom; door adorned with his name surrounded by flowers and sparkles, and threw his bag down on bed, knocking off a few of the stuffed toys in his excitement. He jogged to his desk, moving aside teetering pile of Cosmo magazines that dominated it, a few sliding on to the floor. With much more care, Donut moved the picture of him and Doc to the back of his desk, safely tucked inside his homemade 'BFF' frame. He smiled fondly at it, thinking about how much he appreciated his friend for knowing how to make him feel better.

He yanked open one of the desk drawers and pulled out a battered, highly decorated binder that trailed confetti and ribbons as it was slammed down on the desk. Inside, Donut reviewed his part planning history, guest feedback, unused themes and detailed ideas for future events. He immediately relaxed. Matchmaking, Donut thought derisively, Way too much stress. He quickly began to write up a to do list, then got started on invitations.