Chapter Text
Various Muppets shuffled into the meeting room. Scooter sat down, sighing. He hoped it’d be over quickly so he could get back to his work. His deadlines were rushed enough already; he didn’t need to spend hours in a meeting on top of it. The contracts with Marvel were getting closer to their deadline, and he really needed to start working on those.
“Well, gang…” Kermit stood up, facing the room. He looked at everyone’s faces. “As you know, we have that silent auction for the SAF coming up in a week.”
Scooter nodded, brain miles away. He still needed to send out the promos for it, but he’d been putting it off—oh, and he needed to double-check with the venue for security…
“So we’re thinking about things we could auction off. I’ve offered up one of my old banjos, and a signed photo of me. I was thinking we could do a group shot and have everyone sign it—”
Scooter sighed. He hated taking group photos. It always took forever, between Piggy insisting they capture her good side (never mind she could never remember which side that was) and Pepe putting bunny ears behind four of the other Muppets at once. Still, it was for a good cause…
“Anyways, we’re hoping that everyone donates at least one item.”
Piggy perked up. “Ooh! I could donate one of my old dresses!”
“That’s great,” Kermit said. “We need more ideas like that, keep ‘em coming.”
“I could… do whistling lessons,” Walter said. “Would someone be interested in that?”
“Probably! We’ll put you down for that. Thanks, Walter.”
Walter beamed. He faded into the background again.
“The Electric Mayhem could do a private concert,” Floyd said. The other band members nodded enthusiastically.
“Great.” Kermit scribbled down some notes.
More and more people chimed in, offering up some old memorabilia or quality time with them. The event was coming along swimmingly. They had a good mix of high-ticket items, as well as cheaper options for people who weren’t looking to spend hundreds of dollars. Scooter wasn’t exactly sure what he could put forth, though. With his workload, giving lessons or something seemed out of the question, and he didn’t have much memorabilia associated with him. Well, he had his jacket, but he wasn’t giving that up for a stupid auction.
“Hey,” Rizzo said. “We haven’t got a date yet, have we?”
“A date? Sure we do, it’s next week!” Kermit said.
“No, no, a date. Some big celebrity goes on a date with the highest bidder. Brings in tons of money.”
“Oh.” Kermit frowned. “I don’t think we really… need that…”
“Oh, come on,” Rizzo said. “Every auction has one! It’s a classic!”
“Well… I suppose it would be an easy way to get some money,” Kermit said. “You’re in a relationship, though, aren’t you, Rizzo?”
Rizzo scoffed. “Of course I am! I’m not going on the date. But someone should.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you to volunteer someone else,” Kermit muttered. “Any takers?”
The room was deadly silent for a moment, two moments…
“Guess that’s a no, then,” Kermit said.
“Hey,” Pepe said. “What about Scooper?”
Everyone turned to him. His pulse spiked. “Wh-what?”
“You haven’t donated anything yet, okay?” Pepe said. “Why not go on a date?”
“Why me, though? No one would pay to go on a date with me.”
“Someone definitely would,” Walter murmured. Scooter’s head snapped to look at him. His heart skipped a beat—what did that mean? Walter’s eyes widened. He looked away, cheeks turning pink.
This was going horribly. “W-well, I—I don’t exactly have time—”
Kermit stared at him, tilting his head. “If you agree to do this, I’ll find someone else to do the contracts for that deal with Marvel.”
His eyes widened. Those contracts had been looming over his head for weeks. Kermit was offering him a ‘get out of jail free’ card, just for going on a date. The whole idea was looking better and better. “That’s—wow, okay, thanks! Sure, then!”
“Hang on,” Walter said. “Scooter—do you want to do this? Going out on a date with someone you might not even know—”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” Scooter said. “It’s just hanging out a little, isn’t it? I probably wouldn’t even have to kiss them.”
“But still… they’d be into you.” Walter’s eyebrows furrowed. “You might not even like them!”
“Well, I might!” Scooter said. “Besides, it’s for a good cause. Even if I didn’t like them, it wouldn’t be that bad, and I’d be raising money for charity! I’d go on a date with anyone for that.”
Walter looked like he was about to retort something, but he snapped his mouth shut. He gulped, voice raising an octave. “A-anyone?”
“Yeah, why not? It’ll just be some fun!”
Walter swallowed, eyes wide as saucers. “Y-yeah.” He sat back down as if in a trance, raising no further objections.
“Well, great,” Kermit said. “I think we’ve got everyone then, have we? Thanks for agreeing to this, Scooter. I’ll see if Chip can figure out those contracts.”
Scooter grinned. The weight was well and truly off his shoulders. The group picture wasn’t sounding too bad either.
“Welcome, one and all, to the Muppet Show Silent Auction!” Kermit said. The Muppets stood on the stage behind him, looking out at the crowd below.
“I want to thank you all for coming out here. It really means a lot, and you’re all doing your part to support the fine folks over at the Seagull Awareness Fund.” He held for applause. “We’ve got a lot lined up for you tonight, so let’s run through the highlights, shall we?”
He walked over to the first table and picked up a banjo. “This here’s one of my old banjos. Still plays well, and signed by yours truly.” He plucked a few notes. “We’re setting the starting bid at two thousand dollars. Over on the next table, we have a dress from Miss Piggy’s extensive wardrobe. The starting bid on that’s gonna be fifteen hundred…”
Scooter leaned over to Walter. “This is kinda fun,” he whispered.
“It is!” Walter grinned. “Thinking about buying anything?”
“Well, it would be kinda cool to have Kermit’s banjo, but I dunno where I’d put it,” Scooter said. “Besides, everyone would want that. The price will probably shoot up like crazy.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Walter said.
“I am gonna throw a couple bids toward Annie Sue’s cookies, though,” Scooter said. “My sister couldn’t make it, but she’d kill me if I didn’t bid on them.”
Walter giggled. “That’s nice of you!”
“What about you? Got your sights set on anything?”
“Well…” Walter’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m thinking about one thing…”
“Oh? Do tell!”
“It’s… a secret,” Walter said after a moment.
Scooter frowned. “A secret?”
“Y-yeah,” Walter mumbled.
“Okay.” He desperately wanted to know exactly which item had turned Walter into a blushing mess, but if Walter didn’t want him to know, he was going to respect his privacy. “Okay. Hope you win your secret item.”
Walter flashed a wavery smile. “I-I do too.”
“And at the last table, we have our sign-up sheets!” Kermit said. “These aren’t actual items, but if you win them, you’ll get to spend time with some Muppets!”
The crowd ‘ooh’-ed. Walter perked up. “That’s us!” he whispered.
“We’ve got a concert put on by our very own Electric Mayhem, starting at eighteen hundred dollars. And a whistling lesson from our newest Muppet, Walter, starting at ninety-five dollars. And last but not least…” Kermit held up a paper, presenting it to the crowd. “Now, none of you can read this, but it says ‘I. O. U. One date. Signed, Scooter.’”
The crowd gasped. It sounded more exciting when Kermit read it aloud—he’d just asked Scooter to make a physical representation of the date. Scooter had grabbed a piece of printer paper, scribbled a few words on it, and called it a day.
“You heard that right, folks. Our gofer Scooter will take you out on the town for a night, all for the low low starting bid of seventy-five dollars!”
Scooter scoffed. “Low. Like anyone’s gonna pay more than two hundred for me.”
“Y-you never know.” Walter fiddled with the edge of his suit. “So what are you planning for the date, anyway?”
“Oh, I dunno,” Scooter said. “There’s this restaurant in town—Casa Fallimentare—that serves really good pasta. I might just take them to that, chat for a bit with them, y’know.”
“That sounds really nice,” Walter said.
“Yeah. Hey, I should take you there sometime! I bet you’d love it.”
Walter’s eyes were soft. “I’m sure I’ll love it too.”
“Well, enough chit-chat from me, I think,” Kermit said. He walked back up to the stage. “Let’s get bidding, shall we?”
The crowd cheered. They chattered amongst themselves, bustling toward various tables.
“And don’t be afraid to bid high, either,” Kermit shouted. “It’s for charity, after all!”
Scooter grinned at Walter. “I’m gonna check out those cookies. See ya!”
He headed over to the food table. There were a few other dishes, but he immediately went for the plate of chocolate chip cookies. They sat on a powder blue paper plate. A layer of plastic wrap surrounded them to keep them fresh. They looked delicious, moist and chewy. Scooter’s mouth watered.
He grabbed a pen and wrote his last name on the bidding sheet. Kermit had said they could bid using either their full names, last names, or initials, but he didn’t want to scare anyone off. “Smythe” was incognito enough for him.
He pulled out his phone and took a quick photo of the plate of cookies and the bidding sheet. He shot off a text to Skeeter, including the photo. She replied back almost instantly with “💞💞💞💞”. He chuckled, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
“Hey, Scooter!”
He looked up. Gonzo stood across the table, waving at him.
“Oh, hey, Gonzo!” he said. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, it’s going great!” Gonzo said. “My old cannon is getting bids like hotcakes!”
“Yeah, I bet,” Scooter said. “I still can’t believe Kermit approved that.”
“Neither can I! But the public wants what it wants!”
“So what are you over here for?” Scooter asked. “Am I gonna have to fight you over Annie Sue’s cookies?”
Gonzo laughed. “Nope! Your cookies are safe… for now.” He gestured to a steaming-hot dish. “I was just bidding on Rizzo’s casserole.”
Scooter nodded appreciatively. “Ooh, looks fancy. I didn’t know that Rizzo could make casserole.”
“Oh, he can’t.”
“Huh?”
“He stole it from the Swedish Chef.”
“What?”
“Hey, babe.” Rizzo walked up to the table, pecking Gonzo on the cheek. His eyes lit up when he saw the bidding sheet. “Ooh, look! I’ve already got a bid! We’ll make bank on my casserole, I just know it.”
“Rizzo, you stole your casserole?” Scooter’s head was spinning. “Doesn’t that kinda… go against the spirit of a silent auction?”
“Yeah, you didn’t know?” Rizzo asked. “Spirit, schmirit. I got an item in, and that’s all that matters.”
“And Kermit—and Kermit knows about this?”
“I mean, I assume so. But what’s he gonna do? Make me donate something else?”
“I mean, I guess… You couldn’t just do, like, a signed photo or something?”
“Nah. Between Kermit’s photo, Piggy’s headshot, and Pepe’s custom calendar, we thought we’d probably had enough signed photos.”
“So you’re just gonna… steal something instead?”
“Yeah!” Rizzo smirked. “Maybe if you were smarter, you would’ve stolen something too. Then you would’ve gotten out of that stupid date that no one’s gonna bid on…”
Scooter sighed. Maybe that would have been a smarter plan. He desperately attempted to turn the conversation back to more legal matters. “So, uh, what else are you two looking to bid on?”
“Well, I know I’m gonna bid on that calendar Pepe made,” Rizzo said.
“Yeah, me too. Oh, also that carpool karaoke the chickens are doing! That sounds fun,” Gonzo said.
“Wow,” Scooter said. “Must be nice to have a bunch of partners to bid on your stuff for you.”
“Yeah.” Gonzo smiled softly. “Even if no one else bids on them, we’ve got each other, so it’s not a total waste.”
Scooter’s heart warmed. They really were a cute polycule, even if Rizzo was… well, Rizzo, and Pepe wasn’t all that perfect either. Maybe he’d find a relationship like that someday.
He left Gonzo and Rizzo and did a sweep of the room. He placed a few bids here and there on some less expensive items, like a pair of Zoot’s old shades and a record of Rowlf playing the piano. He wasn’t super set on them, but they’d be nice to have for the right price. They brought back memories of the good old days, when he was just a gofer to a ragtag bunch of Muppets. He couldn’t deny the waves of nostalgia he got from looking at all the old treasures up for sale.
A few tables down, he ran into Walter again. “Hey! Fancy seeing you over here!”
“H-hey.” Walter waved, cheeks turning bright pink. Scooter hoped he wasn’t running a fever.
“What’re you up to?” Scooter asked. “Bidding on anything?”
“You—you could say that,” Walter mumbled.
“Hmm.” Scooter tilted his head. He perked up. “Oh! I wanted to bid on your whistling lessons! Maybe you could finally teach me how to whistle.”
Walter’s cheeks darkened. “I could just teach you for free, y’know.”
Scooter’s mouth dropped open. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t donate to charity? Well, I never!”
Walter’s soft giggles were music to his ears. “W-well, if you insist…”
“Come on,” Scooter said. “Wanna go over there together?”
Walter hesitated, eyebrows furrowing. He took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Great!” Scooter grabbed Walter’s hand so they wouldn’t get separated in the throngs of people. He walked through the crowds, muttering “’Scuse me” and “Sorry” all the way through. It was tough announcing his presence when he was only three feet tall. Walter’s warm, soft hand remained glued to his, providing an anchor so he didn’t get lost in the sea of people.
Finally, they made it through to the other side. Scooter stumbled out, grinning at Walter. “Let’s see, your whistling lessons were… here!”
A few people had already placed bids on Walter’s sheet. The last bid was for $150. Scooter scribbled “Smythe” in the name slot under the last bid. He hovered over the amount section for a moment, then wrote in $200. A whistling lesson with Walter was worth at least that much.
He glanced over at the other items on the table. The chickens’ carpool karaoke had shot up to a respectable $125. The band concert was decently popular as well, and…
His eyes goggled. That couldn’t be right.
“Walter,” he whispered urgently. He felt like he was choking.
Walter hurried over. “What?”
“I think someone—someone made a mistake on my bid.” The blood drained from his face. “They—they put it down for a thousand dollars.”
“Huh?” Walter peered closer. “O-oh. I think that’s—that’s right, actually. See, the bid before’s at nine hundred, the one before that’s at eight, then seven fifty…”
Scooter looked at the preceding bids, heart hammering. “They—they meant it?”
“Yeah, of course—” Walter coughed. “I mean, I think so.”
“A thousand dollars, just for a date with me…” Scooter licked his lips absently. He looked back at the last bid, looking at the name slot. He needed to know who it was. To his disappointment, there was only an initial—B.
Glancing up the list of names, he realized that B had made every other bid. It was like clockwork—a name, B, another name, B, a last name, B…
“Wow. Seems like this B person really wants to go on a date with me.”
“Yeah, I really—I mean, it seems like he does.”
“Wow.” Scooter held the bidding sheet with trembling hands. “It’s—wow.”
“Y-yeah.” Maybe Scooter should’ve been a bit more concerned about Walter’s beet-red cheeks, but at that moment, the only thought on his mind was wow, someone was willing to shell out a thousand dollars just to go on a date with him.
A guy walked up to the table, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair. He glanced around, eyes landing on Scooter’s I.O.U. He walked over, grabbing the bidding sheet out of Scooter’s hands. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna need that—oh! Hi, Scooter!”
“H-hi.” Scooter suddenly felt very shy. All his media training flew out the window. This guy wanted to go on a date with him—
“I’m Eric! I gotta say, I’m such a big fan! Been looking up to you since I was a kid—”
Walter interrupted, eyes flashing. “Aren’t you a little young for him?”
“Walter!” Scooter turned to look at him, aghast. This was for charity!
Eric laughed. “I mean, he was pretty young back then, too. Aging’s funny, y’know?”
“Yeah, it—it really is,” Scooter said. He didn’t feel a day over twenty-five.
Walter pressed his lips together, saying nothing more.
Eric glanced at the bidding sheet. “Ooh, looks like there’s some pretty stiff competition. But what the hey. I’ll throw my hat in the ring anyways, huh?”
He scribbled down his name along with an amount of $1100, then set the sheet back down on the table. He winked at Scooter. “Pick me up at seven.”
“I-I—” Scooter’s face burned. His heart pounded. That smile was cute.
As Eric disappeared into the crowd, Walter scowled. “I can’t believe how forward he was! Pick me up at seven—what, does he think he’s gonna win this?”
“I thought he was very nice, thank you,” Scooter said. He smiled dreamily. Maybe going on a date with a random stranger wouldn’t be all bad.
“You—” Walter stopped, looking up at him like he’d seen a ghost. “You liked him?”
“Sure! He’s cute, funny, wants to go on a date with me… what’s not to like?”
“W-well—” Walter swallowed. He took a deep breath, looking away. “I gotta go… bid on some stuff. See ya.”
“Wait, Walter—”
Walter disappeared in a flash.
Scooter sighed. Maybe he’d get the chance to meet up with Walter later. He had some other tables he hadn’t visited yet, though.
He walked around, chatting with enthusiastic fans. It was nice seeing so many people so excited about the Muppets. They reminded him a bit of Walter when they’d first met. Walter hadn’t seemed very thrilled to meet Eric, though. It was odd; he was usually ecstatic to meet fans. Still, he wasn’t about to let Walter’s snippiness spoil the silent auction for him.
He stared at Bunsen and Beaker’s atomic toothbrush, brow furrowing. He wasn’t sure how it was any different from a normal toothbrush. They said that success was guaranteed, though…
“Hey, Scooter!”
He looked up. Kermit grinned at him. For the first time in a while, he looked relaxed, not at all the ball of stress that he usually was. Maybe that was just the front he was putting on for the folks around him, though.
“Hey, chief!” he said. “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to check in with you,” Kermit said. “Things have been pretty busy around here, and I haven’t really gotten the chance to see how you were doing.”
“Yeah, I bet.” He winced, looking at the swarms of reporters hovering by the doors. It was a good thing he was only the gofer, and the most they ever wanted to ask him was “Do you know where Kermit is?”
“So how are things on your end?” Kermit asked.
“Oh, they’re going pretty well, actually! My date’s been taking off! People are bidding on it like crazy!”
“They are?” Kermit tilted his head.
“Yeah. It was up to eleven hundred a couple minutes ago.”
“Eleven hundred?” Kermit’s eyes bulged.
“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. Someone named B keeps upping the bids.”
“That’s…” Kermit gulped. “Good grief.”
“Well, at least we’re raising a lot of money for SAF…”
“Yeah,” Kermit muttered. “Maybe too much.”
Scooter wandered around some more. He’d been right; Kermit’s banjo had shot up outrageously high. It was sitting at around eight thousand dollars, a number that made his wallet wince in sympathy. He couldn’t believe how much people would spend on Muppet memorabilia. To be fair, though, someone was willing to spend eleven hundred dollars on him…
He circled back around to his table and spotted a familiar Muppet hovering nearby. “Walter! What’re you doing over here?”
“O-oh!” Walter jumped. He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “J-just… excited to see who bids on my whistling lessons, ‘sall.”
“Oh!” Scooter grinned. “Yeah, I’m sure tons of people are bidding on it, huh? A whistling lesson from the master whistler himself… who wouldn’t want that?”
Walter’s cheeks flushed rose-red. “Thanks.”
“Lemme see what we’ve got here…” Scooter looked at Walter’s sheet. He nodded appreciatively. “Ooh, five hundred! Not bad!”
He paused. Should he look at his sheet? It would probably give him a heart attack… but he was dying to know. He took a tiny peek at the bottom number and nearly passed out. B was still the top bidder, with a high bid of $5,000.
“Walter,” he said weakly. “It’s—it’s five thousand now—”
Walter glanced at the sheet. He nodded, licking his lips.
“This—this is out of control! B—five thousand dollars, just for a date with me—”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been up that high, if other people hadn’t kept outbidding m—him! Can’t they see where to just leave it?”
“They’re either insanely wealthy, or just plain crazy.”
“Crazy for you,” Walter murmured.
“I—” He sighed. “This is absurd! Even for a charity auction, five thousand dollars—”
“You’re worth every penny,” Walter said. “And then some! Don’t sell yourself short.”
“That’s—that’s nice of you to say, but—but you’re not the one spending five thousand dollars to go on a date—cheese and crackers, I wanted to go to a restaurant!” Scooter raked a hand through his hair, close to tears. “They paid five thousand dollars for this. They should get something fancier than that, shouldn’t they?”
“I think he’d be fine with just a restaurant,” Walter said. He smiled, cheeks dimpling. “I think he’d be happy if you just showed up at his house and watched movies with him all day. He doesn’t need anything fancy. He just needs you.”
“Y-you sure?” Scooter asked. His heart was racing. When he’d signed up for the date, he had thought he would maybe raise $150 if he was lucky. He had had no idea that he would raise anywhere close to five thousand dollars.
“Positive.”
“W-well…”
Two girls walked by.
“And so I was like, ‘You did not just say that to me?’ Like, it was totally out of line!”
“Totally,” the other girl said. She glanced over, eyes widening. “Hey—hey Brit. Isn’t that Scooter? The one who’s up for a date?”
Scooter’s neck prickled. Sometimes it was a pain to be so instantly recognizable. Walter swallowed, grabbing Scooter’s hand.
“Oh my God, no way! It is!” Brit leaned down, looking him over.
“H-hi,” he mumbled, waving with the hand that Walter wasn’t clutching in a death grip.
“You are a snack, though, aren’t you?” Brit tapped her chin. Her nails were long and pointy, painted purple with delicate rhinestones set into them.
“Oh, totally,” the other girl said. “I could just stare into those eyes all day.”
“Th-thanks?” They were both very pretty. Scooter could see himself spending an evening with either one of them.
“Should I?” Brit asked.
The other girl grinned. “Do it!”
“Okay.” She stepped to the side and attempted to reach the bidding sheet. “Um, I’m sorry… I don’t, like, know your name, but you’re, like, in my way?”
Walter didn’t budge. He looked up at her with all the fury his felt face would allow. Scooter’s hand was starting to feel numb from the strength of his grip. “The high bid’s five thousand dollars.”
“Oh, it is?” Brit smiled. “That’s okay! Daddy won’t mind if I use his credit card for this.”
“Let her bid, Walter,” Scooter said. He wasn’t sure why Walter was suddenly so protective of the bidding sheet. Brit deserved a chance too, didn’t she?
Walter stared at him, reluctance flickering in his eyes. Finally, he dropped Scooter’s hand and stepped away.
“Thank youuu,” Brit sang. She clicked out her pen and scribbled a messy signature onto the bidding sheet. Scooter glanced at it, tilting his head. It read “Brittany J. Huntington,” with an amount of—his eyes nearly popped out of his glasses. Seven thousand dollars?
“Think you’ll win?” the other girl asked as they walked away.
“I don’t know. I hope so. He sure is cute!”
Scooter looked back at Walter. He was practically quivering, face red as a beet. “Walter, are you okay? Getting overwhelmed? Need to sit down for a bit?”
“N-no, no, I—” Walter let out a ragged sigh. “Hey. The bidding sheet’s filled up, isn’t it?”
“Oh, hey, you’re right!” He looked at the sheet. All twenty or so slots were filled up with names and increasingly obscene amounts of money. “We should get a new one, huh?”
“Y-yeah. Hey, how ‘bout you go over to Kermit for another one and I’ll—I’ll keep track if anyone else shows up.”
“Deal!” He grinned, grabbing the sheet off the table. “I’ll be right back.”
He found Kermit over by his table, in a heated conversation with Piggy. “I’m telling you, there’s nothing I can do!”
“You know darn well there’s something you can do!” Piggy retorted. “My dress—my designer Dior dress—going for less than a date with the gofer?”
“You were just gonna throw it out with the rest of last season’s clothes,” Kermit said.
“That’s not the point! The point is, the people seem to think that my dress is less valuable than spending one measly night with Scooter.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Bid higher! I want to go for at least four thousand—”
“That’s not really the point of silent auctions, though. It’s not a popularity contest. It’s about raising money for a good cause!”
“Yeah, and I want to raise more money for a good cause than Scooter!”
“It’d ruin the point of the whole thing if we just outbid anyone else, right? It’s supposed to be a community fundraiser, not a Muppets fundraiser.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to Walter—”
“Scooter! Hi!” Kermit looked up, noticing him for the first time. “What’s up?”
“Hey! I just—my bidding sheet’s filled up, so I need a new one.”
“Of course! I’ll get you that right—”
“Let me see that.” Piggy snatched the sheet out of his hands. He sighed. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.
She looked down the sheet, eyes bulging. “Seven thousand dollars? KERMIT!”
“Wh-what?” The new bidding sheet slipped out of Kermit’s hands, fluttering to the floor. “Seven thousand? That can’t be right…”
Scooter nodded, gulping. “It—it is…”
“I—this is getting out of hand.”
“You’re telling me! You need to do something about this, Kermit!”
Kermit sighed. “I—I will. Here’s the sheet, Scooter. If you see Walter, tell him I want to talk to him, okay?”
“Got it!” He had no clue how those two things were connected.
He walked back over to the table. Walter stood next to his I.O.U.
“Hi, Walter!” He set the sheet on the table. “Any new bids?”
“Y-yeah. Just one. B, for… eight thousand.”
Scooter’s jaw dropped. “Wow, they are not giving up.”
Walter nodded, licking his lips.
“Oh, by the way, Kermit wants to talk to you,” Scooter said.
Walter blanched. “He—he does?”
“It’s nothing bad, I’m sure. He probably just wants to tell you you’re doing a great job!”
Walter let out a choked-sounding laugh. “I—I have a feeling it isn’t…”
“Aw, it’s fine.” Scooter patted his arm. “Maybe he wants to bid on your whistling lessons, but can’t find the time to do it in person!”
“M-maybe…”
“Don’t worry about it. Everything’s gonna be fine, I promise.”
Walter smiled shakily. “Yeah. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
After Walter left to go find Kermit, Scooter decided to do another round of the room. He placed another bid on Annie Sue’s cookies. They’d gone up in price a bit, but the increase was nowhere near as extreme as Scooter’s date. Scooter didn’t mind shelling out forty dollars for a plate of cookies. They were for a good cause, after all.
Behind him, someone gasped. “Scooter?”
He turned around, flashing a friendly smile. “Hi! Yep, you caught me.”
“Oh my gosh! I’m so excited to get the chance to chat with you! I’m—I’m Alex. You were such a big influence on me when I was growing up!”
“Aw, that’s nice to hear!” He leaned back on the table. He loved knowing that he made a difference in people’s lives.
“Do you mind—you’re probably sick of people asking you this, but—can I get a photo?”
“Oh, of course!” Scooter walked over to Alex’s side and stood on his tiptoes, smiling brightly. Hopefully he wouldn’t look too short in comparison.
Alex put an arm around his shoulders and held his phone out. “Okay, say cheese! One, two, three… got it!”
Scooter’s smile dropped a little. He ran a hand through his hair as Alex swiped through the photos. “Did it turn out? We can take another one if not…”
“No, I think they’re good! Or… hmm. My hair’s kinda messy—” Alex smoothed down his hair.
“Oh, it doesn’t look that bad!”
“Yeah, but still, while I have you… mind taking another?”
“Not at all—”
“Scooter.”
He looked over to the side. Walter stared at him, eyes urgent. His blush hadn’t receded all night.
“H-hey, Walter. What’s up?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Y-you do? Could it wait a moment? I’m just taking a picture, it’ll just be a minute—”
“N-no. I need—I need you right now.”
“O-oh.” Scooter frowned. He looked at Alex. “Sorry about this—”
“Oh, no! It’s okay! You were right, my hair doesn’t look that bad!”
“It was really nice meeting you, Alex!”
“Scooter.”
“Oh, okay—I gotta go. Bye!”
“Bye!” Alex waved. Walter grabbed Scooter’s arm and dragged him away.
They finally managed to get out of the fray a bit. Walter sighed, letting go of Scooter.
Scooter grinned. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”
“W-well… I—I don’t really… know.” Walter’s blush darkened.
“You don’t?” Scooter tilted his head. “But you seemed so urgent—”
“I—I know.” Walter looked away. “J-just—wanted to have you all to myself for a bit.”
“Oh!” It was a little weird that Walter had interrupted a conversation with a fan just to talk to him, but Scooter was glad that everything was okay. “Well, you have me!”
“Y-yeah,” Walter mumbled.
“Did your talk with Kermit go well?” Scooter asked.
“N-not really,” Walter said. “He thought I should stop doing… some stuff.”
“Well, are you gonna stop?”
Walter shook his head firmly.
“Oh. Well, then, I’m sure you have your reasons.”
They’d made it back over to their table. Scooter took another peek at his bidding sheet. His eyes widened, but he managed to stay standing. Ten thousand dollars was an extraordinary price, but it wasn’t that much of an increase from the previous bid.
“Look, Walter,” he said. “B upped it again.”
“H-he did?” Walter looked at the bidding sheet. He gulped, blinking quickly.
“It’s… it’s a lot of money,” Scooter said lamely.
“Well, you’re worth a lot of money!” Walter retorted.
“Not for a date! Who in their right mind—”
“It’s not just B,” Walter said. “Other people are bidding for it too!”
“Well, that’s true…” He couldn’t believe that anyone was willing to drop upwards of three hundred dollars on him. Having multiple people fight it up to ten thousand seemed unreal.
“Don’t sell yourself short.” Walter grabbed his hand. “You’re a great guy, Scooter. And I’m sure B will have a lovely time with you.”
Scooter’s heart warmed. “You don’t think they’ll be disappointed? When they finally meet me and see I’m—just me.”
“Just you? What are you talking about?” Walter asked. “You’re perfect, through and through! No one would be disappointed when they saw the real you. Heck, they would probably even fall harder, I know I—” He snapped his mouth shut.
Scooter bit his lip. “W-well, that’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s the truth, is what it is.”
“Well, Walter… thank you. It means a lot.” Scooter smiled at him. He still wasn’t sure he believed it, but Walter seemed sure enough for the both of them.
Walter beamed back, cheeks rosy. Scooter’s heart fluttered—why was it doing that?
“Hey, folks!” Kermit’s voice came on over the intercom. “Hope you all are having a great time tonight! I just wanted to let you know that bidding’s closing in fifteen minutes. So go around and get your last bids in! Alright, over and out!”
“Scooper!” Pepe walked up, arm in arm with Rizzo. “How goes it with your sugar daddy?”
Walter choked.
“Walter!” Scooter patted him on the back. “Are you okay? Do you need some water?”
“Y-yeah, I’m fine, just…” Walter doubled over, rubbing his eyes. “S-sugar daddy?”
“Sure!” Rizzo said. “He dropped five thousand on you, last I’ve heard—”
Scooter’s cheeks burned. “Ten thousand now.”
“Ten thousand? Just for a date with the most boring Muppet out there? Definitely a sugar daddy.”
“Hey! My life is interesting, thank you very much!”
“It is not, okay?” Pepe said. “If someone paid ten thousand dollars to go out with me, that I would understand. But you? No way!”
“It’s—it’s for charity,” Walter snapped. “I’m—he’s not paying him for a date—”
Rizzo snorted. “Going on a date with Scooter is charity! Still, he’s dropping 10K to, what, go out to a lame restaurant or something?”
“It’s a very nice restaurant!”
“I knew it!” Rizzo’s eyes lit up. “Pepe, you owe me ten bucks!”
Pepe groaned, pulling out his wallet. “Okay, fine…”
“Scooter is worth it, too,” Walter said. “I’m sure whoever’s bidding on him would spend way more just to get a chance to go out with him.”
“Way more than ten thousand dollars?” Scooter asked faintly.
“Oh, I know he would.” Rizzo smirked. “That’s why we came.”
“What?” Walter’s brow furrowed.
Rizzo grabbed a pen and wrote on the bidding sheet. Scooter peered over his shoulder. Scratchy strokes read “Rizzo Rat: $15,000.”
His jaw dropped. “Rizzo! Why?”
“Why not?” Rizzo tossed the pen back onto the table. “Not like he’s gonna stop at 10K, huh? Why not spice things up a little?”
Walter swallowed. “I—”
“That doesn’t seem fair to them,” Scooter said. “You’re driving up the price, when you don’t even want to go on a date with me—”
“How do you know he doesn’t, okay?” Pepe asked.
“Yeah!” Rizzo said. “You never know! Maybe I’m just dying to ask you out! Maybe I’m just too shy to do it in any way other than spending ridiculous amounts of money on a date—” His eyes flicked to Walter.
Walter gulped, blood draining from his face.
Rizzo smirked. “Maybe I’ve had a crush on you ever since I met you and even before, but I was too much of a wimp to do anything about it until this auction came along. Maybe I decided that the only way I could ask you out would be to pay thousands of dollars—”
“That’s ridiculous,” Scooter said. “We’ve worked together for years! If you liked me, you would’ve asked me out ages ago!”
Rizzo hummed. “Would I have?”
Walter licked his lips. He tilted his chin upward, staring daggers at Rizzo. “How high are you willing to go?”
“Oh, I dunno,” Rizzo said airily. “Twenty thousand seems like a nice round number, doesn’t it?”
Scooter nearly swallowed his tongue. “Twenty thousand dollars?”
“Of course, I don’t know if it’ll get that high,” Rizzo said. “Clock’s ticking, after all. We’ve only got, what, fifteen minutes left? Maybe your sugar daddy’ll chicken out before then.”
Walter set his shoulders. “He won’t,” he said sharply.
“Pity.” Rizzo turned away, grinning at Pepe. “I really was hoping you’d take me out to some dumb restaurant.”
“If you wanted me to take you out to a restaurant, you could’ve just asked,” Scooter said. “You didn’t have to spend fifteen thousand dollars to do it.”
“Oh, but I’m too scared!” Rizzo swooned into Pepe’s arms. “What if you don’t like me? No, it’s better to blow ten thousand bucks on you, because that’s how I’ll get you to like me back—”
“Can you go?” Walter hissed.
“Oh, are we not welcome? I had no idea!” Rizzo smirked. “Come on, Pepe. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
Pepe laughed. “Bye, Scooper! Bye, Howard.” He made loud, dramatic kissing noises as he walked off.
Scooter’s brow furrowed. “What was that all about?”
“I—I don’t know.” Walter looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks had been red practically all evening. “Hey, I’m—I’m gonna go, okay? Last minute bids… or something.”
“Okay!” Scooter grinned. “See ya later!”
“See ya.” Walter darted off.
Scooter sighed. The crowd was finally starting to lighten up as people gave up on their bids, but a respectable amount of people had stayed. He spotted Gonzo showing off his cannon to a group of fans and one adoring chicken across the room. He decided to check it out too.
“Hi, Gonzo!” he said after Gonzo’s demonstration had ended (without any explosions).
“Oh, Scooter! Hi!” Gonzo waved enthusiastically. “How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain,” Scooter said. “Your cannon selling well?”
“Yeah! It’s up to twelve thousand! Can you believe it?”
“Wow!” Scooter looked at the beat-up cannon with newfound appreciation. “Seems like there are some high rollers tonight!”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Gonzo said. “I’ve heard rumors about your date thing—is it true that it’s up to eight thousand dollars?”
“No.” Scooter grinned. “It’s up to fifteen.”
“Fifteen?” Gonzo gasped. “No way!”
“I know!” Scooter said. “It’s wild!”
“You’re raising a ton of money for SAF.” Gonzo grinned at him. “Who knew so many people wanted to date you?”
“I sure didn’t,” Scooter said. “Nice that people are feeling generous, though. But enough about me. Camilla, how’s your side of the auction going?”
Camilla’s eyes widened. She clucked excitedly, flapping her wings.
Gonzo laughed. “She’s thrilled. The carpool karaoke’s gotten up to eight hundred dollars!”
“Wow, good for them!” He grinned at her. “It sure sounds fun! I hope the winner has a good time!”
“I’m sure they will.” Gonzo smiled softly. “I dipped out around two hundred dollars. It was fun, but I know she’d take me on a carpool karaoke ride any day of the week.”
“Aww.” Scooter grinned. It was sweet that he was willing to donate two hundred dollars for her, though.
The intercom crackled to life. “Hi, ho, folks! The Muppet Show Silent Auction is officially over! If you’ve won something, head over to the bank on the side and we’ll let you pay for your prizes!”
“Well, that’s my call,” Scooter said. “See ya!”
He headed over to the bank and got in the very, very, very long line. Luckily, it moved fairly quickly, and he was soon near the front of the line.
Kermit glanced up at him. “Hey, what’s your name—oh. Hi, Scooter.”
He laughed. “Hey. I think I won Annie Sue’s cookies.”
“I believe you did… Fozzie, could you go grab those, please?”
“On it!” Fozzie dashed off toward the food table.
Scooter handed forty dollars over to Kermit. He took the money and stuck it in the cash-box.
“Oh, and by the way… your date,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“I talked with the winner. They’d prefer to remain anonymous—”
“Still? They’re meeting me in, like, a week.”
“It was their request.” Kermit sighed. “Are you still taking them out to Fallimentare on Friday at seven?”
“Well, if that works for them, yeah,” Scooter said.
“Great. I let them know that, and they said they’d meet you there,” Kermit said. “They didn’t have the payment ready yet—”
“I can’t blame them. Who would bring fifteen thousand dollars to an auction?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Oh.”
“I trust them, though,” Kermit said. “We’ll assume that the money does reach us by then.”
“Okay,” Scooter said. “Wow, this has been—this has been a wild night, huh?”
“Yeah, it has.” Kermit’s face scrunched. “I didn’t expect you to get the highest bids.”
“Neither did I. Piggy doing okay?”
“She’s—she’s doing. Might wanna steer clear of her for a bit.”
“Gotcha. Thanks for the heads-up.”
Fozzie returned, carrying the cookies. “Here you go!”
“Thanks, Fozzie! I’ll be off now. See you all tomorrow!”
On his way out the door, he spotted Walter over in the corner. His eyes were wide and blank, and his jaw was slack. He stared off into space, sagging against the wall.
“Hey, Walter!”
Walter jumped. “O-oh! Hi, Scooter!” He ran a hand through his hair.
“You doing okay?”
“Y-yeah, I’m—I’m fine.”
“Okay,” Scooter said. “Hey, want a cookie?”
“Huh?”
Scooter tore the plastic wrap off the plate, releasing the cookies from their translucent prison. He grabbed one and handed it over with a smile.
Walter stared at it like it was made of solid gold. “You sure?”
“Yep! I can’t eat all of these myself. ‘Sides, you look like you could use a pick me up.”
Walter giggled. “O-okay.” He nibbled off an edge. His eyes widened. “Hey, these are pretty good!”
“Yeah, I’ve heard good things about her baking from Skeeter.” He took a bite, savoring the chewy yet crispy cookie. Skeeter said her girlfriend was the best baker in the world, and with cookies like this, he was inclined to agree.
“How’d the auction go for you?” he asked. “Win what you wanted?”
Walter paused for a moment, tilting his head. A slow smile bloomed on his face. “I did,” he murmured. “I won everything I wanted.”
Scooter grinned. “Glad to hear it.”
Scooter checked his watch. It was 6:55, and Casa Fallimentare was getting pretty busy. More and more diners swarmed in, but no one even took a second glance at his table. His heart raced. Had they gotten cold feet? It would be a shame if they had, after they’d spent twenty-one thousand dollars on just getting the chance to date him. He wished they had at least given him something to look for so he could pick them out of a crowd.
He sighed, swirling his straw in his raspberry lemonade. Even if no one showed up, he’d still get an all-expenses-paid dinner, and he wouldn’t have to do the Marvel contracts either. It might be nice to have a night to himself for once.
He perked up. There—a man came in the door, glancing around like he was looking for someone. His heart picked up. It had to be him!
A moment later, the man’s face lit up. He made a beeline for a booth with a group of other people. Scooter’s shoulders slumped. It was a false alarm. Maybe his date wasn’t coming, after all—
“Scooter?”
He turned around, eyes widening. “Walter! What are you doing here?”
“I—I—” Walter’s cheeks turned bright red.
“Wow, what a coincidence! You and me, both here on the same night! Funny, huh?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Well, I’d love to chat some more, but I’m kind of… waiting for someone,” Scooter said. “You know that silent auction thing?”
“Yeah, I—”
“Well, this is the night I’m going on a date with them.”
Walter bit his lip. “I—I know.” He slipped into the chair opposite Scooter.
“What? Then why—”
There was a flash of white as Walter pulled a paper out of his pocket. He slid it over wordlessly.
Scooter frowned. He picked it up, squinting at it—was that his handwriting? “I. O. U. One date. Signed, Scooter—”
His head snapped up. Walter chewed on his lip, eyes wide. “Walter, how’d you get this—”
His mouth fell open. Walter was his date. His head spun as everything clicked into place. Walter had spent twenty-one thousand dollars just to go on a date with him. That’s why he’d been so secretive about his name—
He gasped. “Blagojevich! You’re—you’re B!”
Walter nodded. He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m—I’m sorry for not being more upfront about it. I just—you said you’d go on a date with anyone, and I—I saw my chance. I think you’re—Scooter, I think you’re really really cute, and your smile’s so pretty and you’re always so friendly, and I’ve wanted to go on a date with you for ages, but—”
“You could’ve just asked,” Scooter said.
“I couldn’t. I tried a bunch of times, but everything always went wrong. One time, I was going to ask you, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I got ‘hey’ and ‘date’ mixed up in my head and I ended up saying ‘I hate you’—”
“That was what that was about?” He’d always kind of wondered about the time Walter had walked up to him, matter-of-factly announced his hatred, and rushed off with beet-red cheeks.
“Y-yeah.” Walter let out a high-pitched giggle. “So you can… kinda see where I’m coming from. I love hanging out with you, but if I even think of asking you out, I trip over my own tongue.”
“So you thought that the best solution would be to pay twenty-one thousand dollars?” Scooter asked.
“W-well, I didn’t expect it to get that high. Maybe a thousand or two at most. But then the bids kept coming, and you seemed like you liked them, and I realized that if I didn’t win, you’d go out with someone else—”
“You know it’s just platonic, right? Even the ones I thought were cute. I don’t really wanna date them, I’d just have dinner with a fan because they donated money to charity.”
“Yeah, well, they didn’t seem to think so—”
“Don’t worry about what they thought.” Scooter smoothed Walter’s hair, smiling at him. “Twenty-one thousand dollars… cheese and crackers.”
“And then—and then Rizzo was making fun of me—in front of you! And I couldn’t let him win, I just couldn’t.”
“Oh yeah, he was, wasn’t he? Wow, I didn’t realize—he was just dragging you through the dirt, the nerve!”
“So I had to outbid him, and… here we are.”
“Well, I suppose… thank you, for that.” Scooter chuckled. “You saved me from a very awkward night with Rizzo.”
Walter giggled. “I would never let you sit through that.”
“Seriously, though…” Scooter’s smile dimmed. “Do you want—I can ask Kermit, we can probably get you your money back. No offense, but I know you’re not exactly the type that has twenty-one thousand dollars laying around—”
“It’s fine.” Walter beamed at him. “I knew what I was getting into. Besides, a date with you is worth every penny.”
“Oh.” Warmth rushed to Scooter’s face. He reached a hand out to stroke Walter’s cheek, heart fluttering. He had thought that he’d be spending an evening with some fabulously wealthy stranger. He’d never imagined that the winner would be quite so close to him already.
“You’re really pretty.” It came out before he could think twice about it. Maybe the lemonade was making him bolder.
Walter’s eyes widened. “I am?”
“Yeah, you—your eyes are so pretty, and your hair’s so fluffy, and you’re always so cheerful and peppy and willing to listen to me and—” He sighed. He’d never realized how much Walter meant to him until that moment.
“O-oh.” Walter licked his lips. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “W-well, I—thank you. You—you don’t know how much that means to hear.”
“You’re—wow.” Scooter felt like he was floating. “Walter, I never—I never thought of you like that before, but—you like me?”
“I do,” Walter said. “I really, really like you.”
“I think…” Scooter adjusted his glasses, smiling shyly. “I think I might like you too.”
“Really?” Walter burst into a bright smile, and wow, his smile sure was pretty, wasn’t it? “Wow, that’s—that’s really nice to hear!”
Scooter’s stomach growled. Heat flooded his cheeks. “So, uh, what do you say we get this date started?”
Walter giggled. His cheeks were practically glowing. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”