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Kirby air ride is real!!!

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Happy New Year everyone!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

The Tro is having little ghosts over, so naturally Danny wants to give them presents

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small but mighty...

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Graves Ch 3, Part 2

masterpost, please no editing or concrit. the word salad is strong today

“This is where you live?” Danny asks, face practically pressed against the tinted car window to get a look at the Manor.

Jason hums. The sound is almost soothing. His throat still feels raw from screaming. And, well, being… dead, he guesses. That fact is just there, looming like a shadow that Jason can’t quite grasp yet. Like, he knows he died, but he can’t connect that to where he is right then: alive and in Gotham.

“Wayne Manor,” Alfie answers for him. “It has been in the family some generations now.”

“Alfie rules it,” Jason says, hiding his smile against Bruce’s stupid nightgown.

“Well,” Aflie replies with a pleased sniff, “someone has to see that it is kept in good care. Lord knows I’ve almost given up saying the same for the Masters of the house.”

“Alfred,” Bruce says, the man’s name a gentle warning.

Jason frowns. “Dad?”

Bruce presses a gentle kiss to the top of Jason’s head. “It’s fine, chum.”

“Hardly,” Alfred scoffs.

Bruce sighs.

Danny tries to make himself a small as possible.

“Losing you… it broke my heart.” Bruce pulls the words quietly out into the open. “I’ve handled it badly. Dick has too. We’ve handled each other badly. Alfred was rightfully at his limits with it all.”

Jason’s heart skips a beat. “…Dick? Does he…?”

“I called him at the clinic,” Bruce answers. “He’s on his way.”

Jason sags in relief against Bruce’s side. It was hardly anything but he’s already exhausted. Being dead was tiring. Or maybe it was the revival part? Whatever.

The Manor gates squeal open and it sounds like coming home. Jason closes his eyes for the rest of the drive down the stupidly long driveway. The only reason he opens him when he’s pulled out of the car is to make sure that Danny is staying close. He needs Danny to stay close. Jason can’t grasp the why of it, but he knows that he needs that.

Besides, if Danny doesn’t stay close he’s so getting lost in the Manor. It’s just too damn big.

He stubbornly drags Danny down onto the couch with him when he’s settled into the living room. Jason figured he deserved to get something out of dying other than a shitty mom, and right then what he wanted was cuddles. Luckily, once Bruce and Alfred step out of the room, Danny relaxes enough to let himself snuggled into a proper little spoon.

“Won’t hurt you,” Jason mumbles into Danny’s ear, making the other boy jolt a little.

“What?”

“Bruce and Alfie, they won’t,” Jason struggles to explain. Words slip through his mind before he can spit them out, but he thinks maybe he gets it across.

“I know,” Danny lies. “I just don’t trust rich dudes.”

“Smart,” Jason says through a yawn. He tucks Danny’s head a little more under his chin. “Don’t too, but Bruce… is good. Stubborn, stoic, stupid, but good.”

“Yeah, but you’re his kid.”

“Just… street rat. Still good. Still won’t… didn… didn’t hurt.” Jason yawns again. The words are slipping away quicker but he needs to explain. “Just street rat before his kid. Annoying street rat too. Stole his tires.”

“You stole Bruce Wayne’s tires?!”

Jason laughed into Danny’s unruly hair. If only Jason could explain who’s tires he really stole. That would really shock Danny. But that would be bad, even if it was just Danny.

“Getting the idea that maybe you’re stubborn and stupid too,” Danny grumbles.

Jason just hushes him. It was time for a little bit of a nap, at least until dinner. Or Dick. Whichever D came first.

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Congratulations to all AO3 users! Important Milestone reached!

Bookmark database overran!

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What you can’t see is me with the controller panicking and yelling

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DoMAYn Day 5 Ch 3, P 1

posting from the highseas! Masterpost

Bruce closes Leslie’s office door behind him as he steps in. She doesn’t even look up from the reports that she’s going over as she waves for him to take a seat. He does so, folding his hands as he waits for her to finish.

“Jason’s reflexes are slow, but there is already some improvement. He’ll need physical therapy to recover, and he might not recover all of the way. Also, we’ll need to get him in for an MRI and an EKG as soon as possible,” Leslie says. “Danny claims that he pulled Jason out quickly, but Jason’s been dead for months. We have to assume that there might be issues.”

“Right,” Bruce says as he rubs at his face.

“You have your own tests to run too,” Leslie points out, as if Bruce could have forgotten.

Despite the obvious, Bruce nodes. “Dick is on his way in. I’ve called in some help to check Jason’s grave without disturbing it. We’ll run DNA as soon as we’re home. But Leslie, even if he is a clone…”

“I know.” Her words are short but not unkind. “But your family deserve to know the truth, even if it won’t change how much you’ll love him.”

“Hn.”

“Don’t ‘hn’ me,” she says. “You’ll need to keep the wounds on his hands clean, but it isn’t awful. He’ll likely develop some bruises, but that is easy enough. The real challenge will be his mental state. I know that you don’t—”

“Leslie.”

“No, Bruce,” she snaps back. “You ignoring your own mental health is one thing, but this is your son—or at least close enough—who remembers dying. He needs the help of a professional. I don’t care what story you spin for the press, but find someone who can help Jason handle the fact that he died six months ago.”

Bruce takes a breath, lets it out slowly, and nods. “I will.”

“You better.” She says it like the treat it is.

“What about Danny?” Bruce asks, in part to change the conversation.

Leslie crosses her hands on top of her desk. “You are not Danny’s legal guardian.”

“Leslie.”

“Yes, Bruce?”

Bruce sighs. “I know you’ve noticed the same things I have about the boy.”

“You’re not his guardian, Bruce.”

“He pulled my son out of his own grave! He was there so that Jason didn’t have to come back alone. And he is scared,” Bruce says, temper barely in check. “He is scared. Worse, he’s confused by the fact that we care that he’s scared.”

Leslie’s chin dips as she sighs. “I know. His behavior is worrying.”

“Then let me try to help,” Bruce insists. “Let me try to pay back a little bit of what he’s done for me. If nothing else, for Jason. You’ve seen how attached he is to Danny.”

“Like a baby goose imprinting,” Leslie agrees with another sigh. She clicks open new files on her computer. “As I’ve said, his pulse and blood pressure are both worryingly low. Despite this, his reflexes are sharp. Mental acuity is a little low, but it’s late and he has every right to be tired. Also he’s a little dehydrated and could use a good meal or seven. He’s pretty much underweight for his age and height, but without records, which from the sound of it don’t exist, I can’t say if that’s a big issue or just how he’s growing. He wouldn’t let me take blood.”

It’s nothing unexpected, and Bruce nods, “Do you think that stems from him being a meta?”

“Maybe,” Leslie says even though she clearly means ‘no’. “My gut says it’s more than that. A kid doesn’t end up that confused over an adult caring about them unless they don’t have adults who care at home. There’s not enough there for me to make a report on, though. I mean, not outside of being in the middle of Gotham at this time of night, but that’s not exactly unusual around your lot. I assume you have someone looking into his home life?”

Bruce nods. “Barbara is on it.”

“Good. Keep me informed,” she says and stands. “And for now, take them both home, feed them a warm meal, and make sure they rest. I don’t care if they have to be put in a room together to keep Jason calm, you make sure that they rest, understood?”

“Understood,” Bruce agrees. It’s nothing he wasn’t going to do anyways.

“Good. I’ll be over at breakfast to get new data. With all the unknowns, the more we can track Jason’s progress the better,” she says.

Bruce stands. His hair is only messed up further as he runs a hand through it. “Thank you, Leslie.”

“Thank me by getting Jason therapy. I mean it, Bruce.”

Bruce just gives another nod and shows himself out of the office.

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Dead on MAYN Day 5: Danny is there when Jason resurrects in his coffin.

The thermos rolls back and forth between Danny’s palms. It’s only faintly warm to the touch, though Danny knows that the tea inside is still plenty hot. Tea, chocolate, protein bars, sour candies, oatmeal cookies, apple slices—Danny brought a variety of things, not sure what the other might want. At this point, it’s basically a whole picnic.

A picnic in a graveyard.

It’s just one of those things that leaves Danny befuddled about how his life is going. Other teens are at the lake for the break. Danny is sitting around in a graveyard because a god of time told him too.

Just undead boi things.

(Like girl dinner, but way worse.)

The warm hoodie, wet wipes, and plushie are less about the weird picnic vibes and more about trying to offer some comfort. Danny can’t imagine waking up in a grave, so if he can offer any comfort he wants to. Though sure, the plushie is a little awkward looking; Danny sowed it in home economics class. The project probably would have gone better if Danny had chosen something more standard, like a teddy bear, but the opossum design had been too cute. Besides, Danny thinks that the flaws sort of add to the character.

Besides, someone crawling out of their own grave won’t be too picky, right?

The headstone catches Danny’s attention again and he glances over at it. Jason Todd. A beloved son. Dead at fifteen.

Would he have a grave stone like that, if he hadn’t come back from the accident? Or would his parents have gone for cremation? Would there even have been anything of him left?

Or would his parents have just studied what was left of him?

Don’t think like that.

Danny rests his head against the top of the thermos. He can’t think like that. His parents love him. He knows that his parents love him.

He just doesn’t know if they can love Phantom.

He doesn’t want to find out.

Slowly, Danny takes a deep breath and lets it out. He counts; in two three four, hold, out two three four. The earth is cold through the blanket that he’s sitting on. The air smells like the city, so different from Amity Park. It’s the difference that helps ground Danny.

He checks the time on his cellphone again. Four minutes. At least Clockwork gave a very precise time.

10:42

What an insignificant time to come back to life.

For the last four minutes, Danny fusses. He straightens the blanket, sets the snacks up in a neat row, and spreads the hoodie out.

10:39

10:40

10:41

10:42

Well, that’s an anticlimactic stillness. Isn’t something supposed to happen? A halfa rising from the grave?

Danny leans over and presses his ear to the dew damp earth.

Does he hear something?

Maybe…

Screaming.

Not stopping to think, Danny plunges his hand through the earth then his shoulder then torso…. down, down down he reaches until he’s deep enough for his fingers to brush against the enameled wood of a casket. Then he reaches through it.

A cold, trembling hand grasps his.

Danny pulls.

It feels like dragging up a million tons to pull Jason Todd up and out of his grave. It feels like the very earth and soil of Gotham is resisting letting go of its son.

Danny only pulls harder.

“He doesn’t belong here yet! Please! He’s not dead! You have to let him live again. You have to let him go!”

The resistance vanishes so suddenly that it feels like the earth basically spits them out. For a moment Danny feels like he’s flying—not Phantom, but him. It’s a whirl of motion and and earth and then Danny is doing his best to turn and take the blunt of the landing. They land hard on the blanket, knocking the thermos over and squashing at least one snack. Danny holds on for dear life.

Well, dear half-life.

The guy—Jason, his name is Jason—is large in Danny’s arms, all broad shoulders and firm chest. Danny feels slightly smothered under the other, but in a good way. Like being under Tucker’s weighted blanket. His fingers slide easily through Jason’s hair.

“Jason?”

Jason just clings tighter. His nose is pressed against Danny’s neck like he’s trying to hide from the world there against Danny. Danny breaths in and out, trying to focus.

“It’s okay, Jason. I know how much it hurts. I know how much it hurts and how everything feels different. Nothing feels right, and it’s not. But it will shift. It will be right again. I’m here and I—um, I have snacks and tea and a hoodie. Because you’re cold! Which makes sense, you’ve been underground for, like, months and that would make anyone cold. Oh! And a plushie, which is stupid maybe, but you can hold on to it,” Danny rambles. Jason manages to get an arm around Danny and holds him close. Their legs tangle together. Danny swallows thickly. “Or you can hold onto me, I guess, that works too. But really. It will be okay. With some time, it will be okay.”

“It—I… I’m… I’m…” Jason’s lips were surprisingly soft again Danny’s neck.

“Yeah, you are. You’re alive,” Danny said. “Come on, can we get sitting up? You don’t need to let go of me, but I want to get a little bit of food and drink into you. It will help you feel better.”

With some effort and coxing, Danny gets them sitting up. Jason does not let go.

He does take the opossum though.

And he sips slowly at the tea and eats a few apple slices.

It’s something at least.

“Okay, Jason,” Danny says as he gropes blindly for where his cellphone ended up. “No clue how I’m going to explain this, but let’s see about getting you back to your family. Don’t suppose you remember anyone’s phone number? I know, who even remembers phone numbers these days. Or can you at least give me some names?”

“That—I… Dad. I want Dad,” Jason chokes out.

“Dad, okay.” Danny lets out a sigh as he lays fingers on his phone. “Let’s see if modern technology can help us find ‘dad’.”

It’s a bit of one handed fumbling to type in Jason’s name. Danny doesn’t even expect to find much, not until he can get around to hunting through funeral home obituaries at least, so he’s shocked when Jason’s name pulls up article after article. ‘Son of Billionaire Bruce Wayne Murdered’, ‘The Mysterious Murder of Jason Todd’, ‘The Prince of Gotham’s Son Dead at Fifteen’—on and on.

“Well, okay, ‘dad’ has been found,” Danny said. “Because getting a hold of Bruce Wayne is going to be easy. Like I can just call up a billion—Sam! Right, duh. She might not have his personal number or anything, but she’ll know how to get a hold of someone who can get a hold of him.”

“Sam?” Jason mumbles around a half attended to slice of apple.

“Friend. Well, ex-girlfriend actually,” Danny says as he pulls up the trio’s group chat. “So just friend again! Which is good? Fine, it’s fine. We had too much history with each other, it just wasn’t working. There was too much between us, including, you know, murder.”

For a moment, Jason stills before the faint trembling that seems to have settled into Jason’s bones resumes. “M-murder?”

“Oh! No, it’s not as bad as it sounds. It was my murder, and it kinda needed to happen. But hey, you know, you don’t have a monopoly on coming back to life you know,” Danny babbles absently as he types.

Dtom: Sam Sam Sam Sam ASAP need Bruce Wayne’s # or close a you have

While Danny waits for a response, he rubs his hands idly up and down Jason’s back. He’s surprised that Jason isn’t in a suit. He thinks that’s what people are normally buried in. Instead, Jason is dressed in sweats and a well worn Wonder Woman t-shirt. Danny has to wonder if it’s the scars that Danny can feel under the thin cotton of the shirt that has something to do with the strange outfit. Maybe open casket wasn’t an option.

“Come on, let’s get this hoodie on, okay?” Danny manages to worm his was free of Jason’s tight hold enough to grab the hoodie.

It takes some fumbling, and by the time that the hoodie is on Danny’s phone has chimed a few times. At least the hoodie fits—more than fits. Danny had brought one of Jack’s. It was big.

SpAM: wtf Danny WTF!!!!! DANNY PICK UP YOUR PHONE RIGHT NOW

Dtom: The person that came back to death? Jason Todd. Wayne’s son

SpAM: G-d. FINE

Danny helps Jason drink a little more tea while they wait.

SpAM: Here. But you better send me the full story as soon as you can!!

Danny sends a thumbs up and then clicks on the ID card Sam sent. He puts the phone on speaker and holds it between them. It rings exactly three times.

“Wayne residence. Who may I ask is calling?” A prim British voice asks.

“Um, hi. I’m Danny Fenton, not that means anything to you. I’m here… I don’t really know how to say this but to just say it. I’m here at the cemetery with Jason Todd.”

“Pardon?”

“Ah… Al…fie.” Jason struggles to speak, but pushes on. “Alfie, ish me.”

“Oh heavens…,” the Brit gasps cross the line. “My dear boy.”

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Cont. DoMAYn D5 - ch2 p1

masterpost (it's not getting it's on one yet)

Danny considers leaving.

It would be the smart thing to do.

(Which is why Danny knows he won’t do it.)

Mostly it’s because Jason is still clinging to Danny like he’s the thing that brought Jason back to life. He didn’t, he wasn’t, but Danny gets wanting that sense of security. He gets needing someone with a beating heart near after coming back to life.

So instead of leaving, which would be the smart thing, Danny helps Jason drink some more tea and eat one of the oatmeal cookies. At least the snacks were a good idea that Danny actually followed through with.

A slamming car door is loud against the relative silence of the graveyard. It makes Danny flinch. Which makes Jason move. Suddenly, Danny is wrapped up like Jason is trying to protect him. Danny isn’t used to being protected, not anymore. It makes a weird feeling bubble in his stomach that he tries not to think about too hard.

The important part are the two figures sprinting across the damn grave dirt, dressing gowns fluttering behind them like they’re in one of those Gothic horrors that Jazz likes to watch.

“Jason!”

“D-dad!”

“Jason!”

Danny tries to get them up and standing, but Jason’s like a new born calf, all rubbery and boneless. They’re barely up and off the cold earth before a man to rival Jack’s size is barreling into them. Danny does his best to squeeze out of the way without breaking Jason’s hold on his sleeve. (The possum isn’t as lucky and is crushed between the reuniting family.)

“Jason, Jaylad,” The man—Mr. Wayne—sobs the names like a prayer. His hands move over Jason’s face like being able to touch his son again burns, but that at the same time, that if he lets go, Jason will vanish.

Would Danny’s parents feel the same, if they knew he had died?

The older man standing behind the pair has his hand to his mouth, like he’s hoping to keep the tears welling in his eyes tucked away. He tears his way from the pair and over to Danny. Danny flinches at the notice.

Jason’s hand tightens.

“Are you the dear lad who called us?” Oh, it’s the British man, that makes sense.

“Um, yes sir. You guys got here quick!” Danny said.

Now was the time to go, before the questions and comments and shooting. Danny tries to take a little step back, but Jason holds fast. Worst, Danny watches as the older man—Alfie’s—eyes move from him to the dead boi picnic set up to the relatively undisturbed grave.

He watches as the confusion set in.

He has to go.

“Master Bruce,” Alfie murmurs, pulling Mr. Wayne’s attention away from frantically checking over Jason.

Danny watches Mr. Wayne look around with a sinking heart.

Please no. Don’t let them be angry. Don’t let them turn Jason away. Don’t let them.

Mr. Wayne places his hand lightly on the back of Jason’s head.

Danny breaths out. “I—I should go.” Go home where he parents don’t know what he is because they don’t know to ask. Where he can pretend a little longer—

“What’s your name?” Mr. Wayne’s voice is a low rumble, like it belongs somehow in the dark night. It’s oddly comforting.

“Me? I’m no one, just glad that—” Danny cuts himself off as bright green suddenly obscures part of his vision.

“Oh my,” Alfie murmurers while Bruce Wayne just makes a slightly strangled little sound.

Danny sighs, reaches up with his free hand, and plucks the green sticky note from his forehead.

‘His name is Danny Fenton’, the note reads. Great. Now they know his name.

Second note appears as Danny sighs. He doesn’t even get a chance to grab this once before Alfie is plucking it to read.

“Well, that we certainly can do,” he said, a slight tilt of amusement to his lips.

“Alfred,” Mr. Wayne admonishes.

“Master Wayne,” Alfie—Alfred? says back, his own admonishment far more cutting. “Some supernatural force just brought our boy back to us. If it is simply asking us to feed the boy who helped him, I am not going to refuse it.”

Mr. Wayne sighs. “Yes, Alfred.”

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Fanart for this !(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

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More DoMAYn D5 Cont Chapter 2, Part 2

masterpostish just look at day 5. mental abilities iffy, please no con crit or editing <3

Danny, Jason, and Mr. Wayne all pile into the back of a car that Vlad would be jealous off. Neither of the adults even blink at the mud that’s getting on the floor and seats from the graveyard. Still, Danny tries not to fidget too much and make the mess worse.

Jason still has Danny’s sleeve in his grip, even as he’s leaning heavily against his dad. It means that Danny can’t get the seat belt in, but Alfred is driving like he’s got the most precious cargo so it doesn’t really matter.

“We need to go to Leslie’s,” Mr. Wayne says.

Alfred gives a nod. “I’ve already notified her that we’re on the way. She’ll be expecting us at the staff entrance.”

“Danny, are you hurt at all?”

Danny can’t help but start a little at that. “What? Oh, no, I’m okay. I just helped Jason out.”

“Leslie is a doctor and close family friend, we’re going to her clinic. If anything is wrong, they can see to it,” Mr. Wayne explains.

Danny shakes his head. What’s all the concern about? “No, really, I’m okay. Just a little cold and muddy.”

“How long were you out there, dear boy?” Alfred asks from the front.

“Just a few hours.” With his parents were gone ghost hunting, it was easy enough to just leave when he needed to. Sure, he planned in extra time to make sure he got there and find the graveyard and the plot, but he had his phone to entertain him.

Mr. Wayne is watching him with too seeing eyes. “So, you knew to be there?”

Fuck. “Um, the sticky notes.”

Searching around in his backpack one handed is a little hard, since Jason won’t let him lean far, but he manages to grab the slightly crumpled square of bright green paper with the time, plot number, and cemetery name on it.

Mr. Wayne takes the note like it’s something that could explode. “Do you know who these come from?”

“Yeah?” Danny’s nose scrunches up at that. “I’m not going to listen to strange notes from someone I don’t know.”

“Well, that is wise,” Alfre says. He almost sounds amused for some reason that Danny doesn’t get.

It seems safest just to be quiet for the rest of the drive. Besides, his silence gives Mr. Wayne tie to focus on his son. Danny listens without trying to as Mr. Wayne checks over Jason’s battered fingertips. Jason’s answers are stilted, but Danny thinks that Jason is already speaking more clearly. When Jason’s voice starts getting rough, Danny offers the thermos.

“It’s just tea,” he explains, looking at Jason rather than Mr. Wayne. “I thought Jason would be cold, you know, being underground all that time, so I brought it with me. He’s had some apple slices too and an oatmeal cookie.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Alfred comments. “We were in such a rush, we brought nothing with us.”

“Oh, no, yeah, course you were,” Danny says. “I’m sure that was… startling.”

“To say the least, but in the very best way,” Alfred says. He catches Danny’s eye in the rearview mirror for a moment. “In Gotham, you learn to accept the impossible.”

Danny nods as if he understands.

-

Arriving at the clinic is a flurry of activity. Mr. Wayne helps Jason into a waiting wheelchair. Alfred ushers Danny out of the car. There’s an older woman with kind eyes and a stern voice directing everything. Before Danny can even protest he has a fuzzy fabric hooked up to a tube squeezing his arm. He’s seated next to Jason because Jason wouldn’t stop trying to move until Danny was close enough to touch.

“I’m fine?” Danny tries to tell the nurse.

“Hold out your other hand please,” the nurse says instead of listening and sticks what Danny guesses is some sort of monitoring thing around Danny’s fingertip.

“Bruce,” the older woman says, a firm question in the man’s name. She has Bruce pulled off to the side and her voice low.

“Alfred got a call just after eleven,” Bruce says with a little motion, “from someone named Danny that he was in the cemetery with Jason. Alfred heard Jason over the line, got me, and we as quickly as we could. And… there he was, Leslie, just sitting there.”

The woman, Leslie, Danny guesses, shoots a glance towards them. “He looks like Jason.”

“He knew me,” Bruce agrees.

Clone? With transferred memories?” Leslie asked, as if that was a normal thing to just have to ask.

“We haven’t run any DNA yet,” Bruce says back, unphased.

“No, it’s Jason,” Danny protests. He doesn’t care that he’s not supposed to hear from so far away, he wouldn’t let Jason be doubted like this. “As long as Jason is who was in that grave, then that’s Jason. I helped pull himself out myself!”

“It is simple that the earth was hardly disturbed that brings questions,” Alfred soothes.

“That’s because—it’s just… I’m a—a meta!” Danny says. It’s… enough the truth. He reaches out a hand and waves it through the machine the cuff is connected too. “I heard him screaming in his coffin. I pulled him out!”

Jason grabs Danny’s hand as soon as it’s solid and clings to it. “I’m—I’m me. I don’t—I… I remember dying. Dad, I remember d-dying. There was so much smoke. The door wouldn’t open and-d I t-tried…”

Mr. Wayne is across the room in an instant and has Jason wrapped up in a hug. Danny looks away, as if he can give them any privacy being right there. Leslie at least gives him a distraction by coming over to take off the weird cuff and finger thing.

He doesn’t like the way she crouches down in front of him though.

“It’s Danny, right?” she asks. It’s like she’s using a ‘teacher voice’ but one step to the side. It’s weird.

“Yeah,” Danny answers anyways.

“Danny, how long were you out in the cold?”

“Why does everyone care about that?” Danny asks in what is totally not a whine. “It was only a few hours.”

“Well, Danny, I’m asking because your blood pressure and pulse are both really low,” Leslie explains. “Is that normal for you?”

“Oh, is that what those were measuring?” Danny asks with a little shrug. “I don't know? I don’t feel that different from normal. Like, I’m just a little tired but it’s been a busy day, you know?”

“I’m sure it has,” she agreed in that same patient voice. “When was the last time you were to a doctor?”

When had it been? Was that weird? “Since I was little, I guess? My parents are biologists, and they just take us to the pharmacy for shots and things.”

“Well, Danny, since you’re here and we’re going to be running some tests on Jason anyways, how about we run some tests on you t—”

“No!” Danny is up and out of the chair before she can even visit. He can’t go far because, well, Jason, but he’s not going to stay sitting down for this. “Nope. No tests. I’m not a lab rat.”

Leslie is almost frustratingly calm. “You’re not, and no one is going to try and make you into one. I just would like to make sure you’re healthy. How about this, any test we do on Jason, you can watch. If I think it would be a good one for you to do, I’ll ask and you can decide if you want to or not, okay?”

Danny chews on his lip as he thinks that over. Slowly, he nods. If he can always say no later, it doesn’t hurt to agree for now, he figures.

It makes Leslie smile. “Great. We’re going to start by taking care of Jason’s hands, okay?”

Danny doesn’t really have any say in that, but he nods anyways. Mostly just because one of Jason’s hand is in his. As it is, they take care of one hand before having Danny swap sides, and then take care off the other. They make Danny scrub up in between and change into some clean, if too big, sweats, but he’s fine with that. He doesn’t want to be anything that makes Jason sick.

They take the chance to weight Danny and take his height during that, but those are fine. That’s normal, right?

He tucks himself between the wall and the exam chair thing Jason is one when he gets back in the room. Jason’s bandaged hand finds his sleeve.

“This is just a basic reflex test,” Dr. Leslie explains as she taps on Jason’s knee with a prehistoric looking tool. Jason’s knee jerks forward. “Your reflexes are a little slow right now, Jason, but if you did just… come back, there might be some rigor mortis still in play. Jason, do you feel stiff?”

Jason nods slowly. When he speaks it’s very carefully, as if his tongue doesn’t want to listen. “Everywhere. Like… when had that bad flu. All fuzzy too… it’s hard to… yeah.”

Dr. Leslie breathes deeply and lets it out slowly. “Okay. There’s only so much we can do here, but let’s run through some more tests.”

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I miss them 🥺

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Would you trust these two guys to change your heart

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