Hey guys! Kat here. Again. Listen, recently, TDI has become my obsession-- this is not to be taken lightly. Like, seriously. It's my life.

Anyway, the characters Courtney and Duncan caught my eye and I have thus been filled with inspiration about them. This story will at least be a two shot, and I'm counting on you readers to let me know if ya want more.

Disclaimer: I do not own TDI or any of its character. I know-- sucks to be me.

Fortuitous

Chapter 1

Duncan had always hated dogs—being frequently pursued by the species didn't tend to alter his feelings either. And thus, he was never that friendly to them, whatever the type. He just had it figured that dogs would share mutual feelings toward him.

So why a floppy-eared, fluffy-tailed mutt was following him around completely boggled his mind.

Staring at the smallish dog, Duncan contemplated on whether or not to keep walking and hope the thing would be smart enough not to follow, or try and scare it away. Actually, he was surprised that his piercings and partial-green hair had already intimidated the dog in the least… or so it appeared. He watched in disdain as the animal tilted its head, never-ceasing in its gaze.

"Alright, mongrel… shoo!" Even if he raised his voice the dog stayed put. Duncan groped the ground from where he sat on a park bench for a stick. Fingers grasped around it, he slowly moved the stick back and forth in front of the dog's eyes, making sure the movements were followed before releasing it.

Both man and dog watched the piece of wood arch in the air and land with a thud on the ground meters away.

Duncan looked at the creature expectantly. "You know, this is the part where you're supposed to go chase after it idiotically." The dog's only response was a bark and an increase in panting as its tongue lopped over the side of its mouth.

"You'd kill the dreams of many kids, mutt," Duncan deadpanned, prodding the dog in the nose with two fingers. He scrutinized the creature's scruffy fur and name-tag-less neck. He snorted. "Maybe you're my kind of dog."

The dog promptly stood on its hindquarters and laid its head on Duncan's knee.

"That was a joke," he muttered, frowning when drops of drool dribbled down from the dog's hanging tongue. He could've sworn that it was grinning at him.

Duncan sighed and reluctantly scratched the mutt's head, slumping back into the bench. He tweaked his eyebrow when the dog also seemed to sigh, through it was more of a whine, as it looked off further into the distance that the pathway curving through the park led to.

"What," said Duncan sarcastically after it yipped another whine-sound. "You think you've got problems?" The dog's eyes flickered at Duncan's, as if to say, "Who doesn't?"

"Pfft." Duncan pointed at his chest with his thumb. "I've got problems."

"First off—" he cut himself off and blinked, giving the dog a glare, "I'm having a conversation with a dog." He rubbed his temple. "Second, I'm stuck here." He waved his arm out, attempting to portray the bulk of 'here'.

According to his previous judge—yes, he had his own judge—he had been on 'good behavior' since getting back from the island. Hah, that was him, always the good one. Anyway, the judge said that now his attitude had changed (that's what the old geezer thought), it would be best to also have a fresh start.

Please. The dude just wanted Duncan and his record out of his hair, thereby issuing his family to move residences. In other words, to come here: Quebec.

Not that Quebec was a terrible place to live… it was more of this residential area—so pristine and pleasant and peachy. And police-y. His parents loved it, being welcomed so cheerfully by their fellow cops. Yup… it could definitely do with some damage—a job he would willingly oblige to.

Unfortunately for him, he was on house arrest. As if—it had been more than easy to sneak out; in fact, the cop monitoring his house while his parents were out was probably still sitting like a dud in the driveway. And really, did he have to be surveyed at every moment? He'd only graffiti-ed his old school's bathrooms… along with a few other things, but big deal. They could be cleaned too.

Duncan smirked to himself as his thoughts mulled around in his head, thinking of new ideas that could be applied to this Mountainside High he was to be going to once the summer ended.

He was pulled from his gleeful imaginings as his new 'friend' sat up and looked down the pathway, tail wagging in earnest. Duncan followed the dog's stare.

There was a jogger—female—coming along the winding path, some sort of white pooch by her side. Duncan couldn't help but appraise the runner's attire—spandex shorts, a sports bra, and a toned body were nothing to complain about in his book. She was listening to music, the ear-phone wires bouncing off her side as she ran, and took no notice of Duncan or the mutt as she passed.

Duncan cringed as, suddenly, the little beast in front of him began barking and yipping in an extremely shrill manner.

For a split second, the white fluff-ball paused in running to look, silencing the mutt, before moving faster to catch up to the girl.

Rubbing at his ear, Duncan watched in bewilderment as the little dog dropped into what seem like a mournful, self-pity complex, if a dog could do that, tail falling between its legs. He snapped his fingers.

"Oh… girl trouble, eh?" The fuzzy animal once more placed its head on his knee. He frowned. "Look, I'm no shrink, but I'm pretty sure you'll get over it."

Duncan could feel the rumblings in the dog's chest against his leg when it growled.

"What?" He held up his arms in defense. "I'm not being insensitive—it's true. Girls come, and then they go."

He looked up, wincing slightly when the rays of sun hit his eyes. It was nearing the time when all the old coots in the neighborhood would come out on their porches and prepare to watch the sunset; not quite twilight but just post late afternoon.

Gingerly reaching out to pat the mutt on the head, Duncan raised an eyebrow when the thing slumped further into his lap.

"You think you're the only one? Come on dog, man up. It's not that—" he cut himself off again when his brain caught up with what he was saying. He just told a dog to "man up". Pathetic? Clearly. Crazy? Oh yeah.

"Right. Well, now that I've convinced myself that I'm totally deluded, there's not really a point in stopping." Duncan took a breath. "Anyway, it's even happened to me—the girl thing, that is."

Almost on cue, the flashbacks came.

'Ohmigosh! Ew. You were cuddling me!'

'I HATE you!'

'You are such an ogre'.

'Thanks, enjoy prison…'

The smirk creeping across his lips was almost an immediate reaction to those particular memories. Sure, he'd had flings before(many times, in fact), but one participant stood out indefinitely.

Courtney.

Had it really been a year? It seemed like yesterday, when he would tease her and watch her face ignite into an appealing shade of red, so much that her freckles would stand out and he could count them without difficulty. Then she would scrunch her nose up in that obnoxiously cute way and verbally let him have it. Sometimes physically.

Oh ho… and how he remembered the victorious feeling of being able to corrupt that preppy-goody-two-shoes, tainting her morals and ideals until she couldn't hide behind her ridiculous concepts of denial any longer.

And the kiss. That had been a very nice kiss.

Man… he'd been bored out of his mind when she left. Sure, it was still fun to kick the other competitors' butts here and there, but without the sheer amusement the princess had offered him, it was almost not worth it to try and stay. Too bad he had a whole lot of pride…

But that had been it. She came, and then she was gone. Sometimes he wished he was still on that island; still in that stupid camp. He could admit that he missed the other guys… even though he mostly missed the easy targets they had provided for his inner-bully. The island, despite Chris mucking it up with his ever-maddening attempts at getting higher ratings, had its advantages.

Another whiney sound broke Duncan out of his revere. He looked down at the dog in surprise—he'd almost forgotten the little mongrel was still there.

"Eh," he started, scratching its head, "you'll get over it. Eventually." He vaguely wondered if Courtney still had that skull he had carved for her… and then wondered, brooding, if his "eventually" would be coming any time soon.

The sun was close to setting now, and it was making him extremely tired. All the random colors were dancing around in a way that made him think of all the dream-sequences that quite a few producers tried to convey in their movies; failing miserably, in Duncan's opinion. Not everybody had dreams of cotton-candy clouds and happy rainbows. Disgusting.

"Toby!" He blinked, opening his eyes, which he had not noticed closing, and yawned. He could have sworn he heard somebody calling.

The dog's tail thumped Duncan in the leg as it sat up, excited.

The call came again: "Toby!"

Something in Duncan's mind clicked as the voiced echoed from the grove of threes off to the other side of the pathway in front of him.

'Ogre'

'Neanderthal'

'Pig!'

No way. He straightened up in his seat, hand clenching the wooden paneling of the bench. No freaking way. He knew that voice. The voice called again and a smirk plastered itself over his face.

He looked down at the dog, now assuming its name was 'Toby', as it was looking in the direction the voice was coming from, tongue lapping around.

Now rustlings could be heard from the underbrush and trees as the owner of the voice shoved through and came closer.

"I swear—come on you dumb dog! This is the third time this week! Where are—"

The figure emerged.

Duncan's smirk broadened. He leaned back and placed his arms behind his head casually, examining her rather stiff body. She looked the same… except that she had a very dumbfounded expression on her pretty face; she was skeptical, and obviously in complete disbelief.

"Hey, princess," he called out. "Miss me?"

Toby let out a bark.