#just imagine danny squinting at him real hard

[a-selkie-abroad]

Dan: you know one thing I miss about my timeline is the lack of light pollution. you could look at the stars wherever you were. I miss that

Danny, after thinking for a moment: isn't. isn't that because you killed everyone and the power grid went down

Dan, solemnly: a price i am willing to pay again

[oliverreedmasterass]

Words: 7.6k

Warnings: smoking, sexual innuendos, some head trauma, cops, brief mention of v*mit, Led Zeppelin comparisons, Sam’s bare feet

Synopsis: Because I’m trying to not get my hopes up that we’ll get a second part to arguably the best video on the internet, this is how I’d imagine it would play out

Notes: An EXCEPTIONALLY LARGE thank you to @starcatcherkiszka, @jmkho, @writingcold​, @collecting-moons-downstairs​, and the anons for the submissions! Hopefully you (kinda) got your questions answered...

--------------------------------------------

The scene opens in an interrogation room that is empty, with the exception of a hooded figure in the corner. Chatter can just barely be heard beyond the large, metal door. The camera is steady. After a few beats, SAM enters the room, his head hung low and his arms in shackles. He shuffles over to the interrogation table and plops into the uncomfortable chair with a sigh, carefully removing his oversized sunglasses and tossing them to the side. He kicks his bare feet up onto the table, revealing a glimpse at his short shorts and dress shirt. He doesn’t seem to notice the hooded figure. Sam is wearing a fake mustache over his real facial hair. 

SAM: Whoo boy, whatta day. 

The door opens once more and DANNY enters, his hands also cuffed. He looks like he just came off the stage from one of their shows, wearing one of his sparkly tops, black pants, white sneakers, and stage makeup. 

DANNY: Hey, Sam. 

SAM: They got you too?

DANNY: We were brought here together. 

SAM: Come here, old pal, let me hug you. 

Danny scrunches his nose like that’s the last thing he wants Sam to do, but he cautiously approaches Sam’s side and lets Sam awkwardly lift his handcuffed hands over Danny’s head and past his shoulders to engulf him in a tight embrace. While this is happening, JOSH kicks the door back open with a loud shout and thunders into the room. Sam and Danny turn back and watch Josh step up to the interrogation table, putting his hands on his hips. Josh is wearing a spacesuit that was very obviously purchased from Party City. He removes his space helmet and poofs back up his curls. 

JOSH: Sorry folks, I was caught in the holding cell because my suit latched onto the prison bed. I got into a really invigorating conversation with a self-proclaimed pyromaniac about the burning of Notre Dame and managed to sneak a swig or two of gin from the police chief when he wasn’t looking. My head is spinning a little because I think the ABV was above 80% but that just means I can’t tell left from right, which is no matter since I normally can’t tell the difference anyways. 

SAM: Where are your handcuffs? 

Josh looks down at his hands, which are entirely freed. 

JOSH: I Houdini’d my way out of them. 

Josh scans around the room. 

JOSH: Is Jake here yet? 

SAM: Nope. 

DANNY: I haven’t seen him. 

JOSH: Huh. 

Josh turns in a circle looking for his twin, to no avail. The door opens again and the three men turn to see a detective enter the room. DETECTIVE ACE is a hard looking man who has obviously seen some shit over the years. He’s carrying a steaming cup of coffee and an especially delectable donut that Josh can’t help but lick his lips at. Detective Ace motions for them all to sit back at the table. Sam and Danny struggle to untangle themselves from their complicated hug. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Morning, gentlemen. Let me lay down some ground rules here: I’ve got a lot of questions that I’m gonna need you to answer. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, which I’m sure you understand, but I want you to know that we’ll all be better off if you answer openly and honestly so we can crack down on this. Capiche? 

Josh, Sam, and Danny all silently shrug. That seems to be enough for Detective Ace. He looks across the table at the three and then squints. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Isn’t there supposed to be another one of you? 

JOSH: He’ll be here, he’s usually late. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Where could he possibly be? We’ve been keeping you all in a holding cell for the past twelve hours. 

SAM: Jake’s never been on time in his life. We should get started. He’ll come when he comes. 

DETECTIVE ACE: I feel like I should be more concerned about that, but okay. Let’s get this thing going. 

JOSH: Yes, why don’t we have a ball, huh? Let’s have a ball. 

Sam reaches up and strokes his fake mustache, which Danny notices for the first time. Danny lets out a short choke and quickly holds his hands up to his mouth to suppress his laugh. Sam beams at Danny’s reaction. 

DETECTIVE ACE: First things first, do you prefer tea or coffee?

DANNY: How kind of you to offer. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Just answer the question, son. 

DANNY: Coffee. 

SAM: (leaning to whisper to Danny) Less talkie, more coffee. 

DANNY: (under breath) Don’t remind me. 

JOSH: I actually prefer to mix the two together to see how much caffeine I can fill into my fleshly form in one go. 

SAM: Caffeine gives me the shits. I prefer kombucha. 

JOSH: Dude, kombucha is tea. 

SAM: No way. 

DANNY: What did you think you were drinking? 

SAM: (whispering) Spicy water? 

Danny holds his head in his hands and shakes his head. Sam looks between Danny and Josh, his eyes wide. 

SAM: How do you both know what kombucha is? 

DANNY: Have you really never read the bottle? 

DETECTIVE ACE: (clears throat) Next question. This one is for Daniel: the chaos of the Kiszka brothers must get to you. Have you ever reached your limit? If so, what was the event that caused you to break? And finally, what was your retribution?

DANNY: Hmmm. 

JOSH: Don’t say anything too incriminating, Daniel. 

DANNY: I’ve definitely come close. Especially when we were younger, you know, in the garage band days, they would butt heads a lot. There were times when I was tempted to storm back to my house after hearing Jake and Josh argue for what felt like hours on end. But I don’t know, I’ve spent a lot of my life with them, I guess I’m kind of used to it. Even when they’re being absolute menaces out in public, it’s never made me break. 

SAM: What about Amsterdam? 

DANNY: Oh, wait, yeah, I did reach my breaking point in Amsterdam. 

DETECTIVE ACE: What happened in Amsterdam? 

Danny winces and looks at Sam and Josh to see if he should keep talking. Sam nods. Josh is too busy messing around with the straps on his spacesuit to notice Danny’s glance. 

DANNY: It was a few years ago. We were going to play at a festival, but before the gig we went to one of those, uh, coffee shops and got our fill, I guess you could say. Jake and Josh got pretty cocky after that and started to hound me about how I needed to put more force into my hi-hat or some shit like that, which I really didn’t want to hear. That was tearing me down, but then I turned around and saw that Sam was jumping into the canal, entirely clothed. After I ran down to the side of the canal to try and help Sam, Jake pushed me in as well. When I got out, I immediately told them I quit the band and stormed back to our hotel. 

SAM: He was on stage with us three hours later. 

DANNY: Yeah, so they really didn’t face too much retribution there. 

JOSH: We deserved it, though. Poor, poor Daniel. 

DETECTIVE ACE takes a sip from his coffee and then looks down at his notepad. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Okay, I need a statement on your friend, Oliver Reed. Is he really dead? 

The hooded figure, who has been standing in the corner entirely motionless, quickly stirs and then leaps forward with a loud “YAR!” making everyone in the room jump. The hooded figure tears off the cloak in an impressive swoop, revealing OLIVER REED with his beard longer than ever. 

OLIVER REED: OLIVER FFFFFUCKING REED LIVES IN THE SPIRITUAL REALM NOW, BUT HIS SOUL IS STILL ALIVE AND WELL. THE DEVIL HAS GRANTED ME AN HOUR ABOVE GROUND TO VISIT OLD FRIENDS, ENEMIES, AND LOVERS. 

SAM: Oh my god, Oliver Reed is alive! 

OLIVER REED: (growling) What did eye jus say, boy? Yew got no fffffucking ears on you? I’m fuckin dead, my bleeding ghost is here to tie up some loose ends. 

JOSH: How much time do you have left before the devil takes you back, Oliver? 

Oliver Reed grunts and reaches into his back pocket to study his phone. 

OLIVER REED: Six minutes, it looks like. 

DANNY: What were you doing in those other fifty-four minutes? 

Oliver Reed grabs a cigar and matches out of his vest pocket and lights it, taking a big puff. Then, he starts to laugh at first softly, and then louder and louder. 

DANNY: Nevermind, I don’t want to know. 

OLIVER REED: Yew know, I talk a lot with Ernest Hemmingway down under, he’s a class act, he is. He can nearly outdrink me. Nearly, though. Ay’ve still got ‘im there. One time we ‘ad a drink off with this shit the devil brews, it’s called a Soul Sucker, aye think. It’s straight shit and maybe a little motor oil. Well, I rolled me sleeves up, rubbed me hands together, and grabbed ‘at big ol’ bottle and chugged it like it was a glass o’ water. And Ernest told me, he said, ‘Oliver, boy, you need to slow down’ to which I said, ‘actually, when yew go too fast, don’t slow down, yer gonna crash.’ Ernest said that was a bloody brilliant quote, and he was going to add it to his new novel, about sexual pleasure and the majesty of the seed. 

SAM: Okay, thank you, Oliver. 

OLIVER REED: I’m not done yet. 

DANNY: (to Detective Ace) Please ask us another question before he starts talking again. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Oh, um (clears throat) Okay. Would you rather be locked in a room with one cockroach the size of a medium dog or 100 regular cockroaches? 

Oliver Reed pulls off his sunglasses and bends over to be at eye level with Detective Ace, who is still sitting at the interrogation table. Oliver’s eyes are piercing, and they are terrifying. Detective Ace recoils back in his seat a bit. 

OLIVER REED: Wot the bloody ‘ell kind of question is ‘at? Cockroaches? Cockroaches?! Well, aye know a thing or two about cocks and I know a thing or two about roaches - 

SAM: (cutting Oliver Reed off) Oh GOD. 

OLIVER REED: So aye guess ay’d ‘ave to say the giant cock would do fer me. I don’t think aye could wrap me head ‘round a hundred o’ those peckers. 

Sam slams his head into the interrogation table with a groan. Danny is quick to make sure that Sam didn’t give himself a concussion. 

DANNY: (to Sam) How many fingers am I holding up? 

OLIVER REED: HE’S HOLDIN’ THREE, AYE ‘AVEN’T HAD ‘AT MUCH TO DRINK YET, I CAN STILL SEE STRAIGHT. 

Danny: I wasn’t talking to you, Oliver. 

SAM: Three. 

Danny throws his hands in the air, giving up. Josh is silent, thinking especially hard about the cockroach question. 

JOSH: I think I would take one hundred small ones. 

OLIVER REED: Go and gettem, boy! That’s what Ernest says. If yew’ve got the stamina, by all means. 

JOSH: I think I could domesticate them and get them to follow me around. Think of how cool it would be to have a hundred cockroaches near you at all times. 

SAM: (peering up at Josh as his head still rests on the table) Literally no one would find that cool. Except you, apparently. 

JOSH: I’d give them all names and take care of them. 

DANNY: Well, that makes me feel bad. I was gonna say I’d take a big one because it would be easier to kill in one go. Sure, it would take some muscle power and probably be traumatizing, but I’d rather know where the cockroach was at all times than be guessing where all the tiny ones are. 

SAM: I ate a cockroach once when I was a kid. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Moving on, Danny, I need to clear something up with you: which Hogwarts house are you in? 

SAM: Oh shit, yeah, we never found that out in our last video because you didn’t want me sitting on your head in my underwear. 

DANNY: Can you blame me?

OLIVER REED: HUFFLEPUFF! 

JOSH: (to Oliver Reed) No, buddy, we’re talking about Daniel here. 

OLIVER REED: Did I fffffucking stutter? 

DANNY: I would say I’m a Ravenclaw. 

SAM: Not Gryffindor? 

DANNY: Nope, I never felt like I would fit in there. I was always pretty studious in school while you guys were the ones causing trouble. 

JOSH: You call it trouble, I call it freedom. 

DANNY: You call lighting a trashcan in the teacher’s parking lot freedom? 

JOSH: Absolutely. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Are you afraid of the dark?

DANNY: Yes. 

SAM: No. 

JOSH: (squinting) Why? 

OLIVER REED: When yer dead, the darkness becomes yew. It’s somethin’ yew can’t fear unless yew want to fear yerself, which I wouldn’t recommend, because then yew start to lose yer sense of self and decay into a shell of who yew once were. 

JOSH: Okay, yes, I am afraid of the dark. 

OLIVER REED: Don’t be, it can’t hurt yew. 

Oliver Reed’s face suddenly pales and he throws his hands up to cover his head, letting out a terrified squawk. 

JOSH: (abruptly standing to his feet) What? What’s wrong? 

OLIVER REED: My time is up. The devil is here for me. He brings the darkness.

Oliver Reed is staring directly at Sam. 

SAM: Dude, I’m not the devil. 

OLIVER REED: Tell yer mother I said ‘elloooooooooooooooooooo 

Oliver Reed crumples into a ball on the floor Wicked Witch of the West-style, out of sight of the camera, presumably back down to hell. Some smoke rises from the floor. 

JOSH: You know, for all of his flaws, he is a fun guy to be around. 

DANNY: He stresses me out. 

A knock sounds on the door. Detective Ace springs to his feet and opens the door, revealing JAKE, who is wearing his infamous straw hat, paired with a black t-shirt that reads “babygirl” in an italic font. 

JAKE: Sorry I’m late. 

Jake steps into the room and grabs a seat beside Josh, giving him a hearty pat on the back. 

JOSH: You just missed Oliver Reed. 

JAKE: Really? Darn, that’s too bad. We can never seem to cross paths. Maybe one of these days. 

SAM: You probably just have to say “shit” three times and put a bottle of whiskey out to get him back. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Speaking of shit, is there any chance you guys will do a ‘Behind the Shit’ series for YouTube?

JAKE: (whispering to Josh) Wait, why are we in the slammer? 

JOSH: (whispering back) Identity theft.

SAM: We do have the title trademarked, but we’re unfortunately legally barred from sharing any insider details about our upcoming promotional material for our new album. 

JAKE: What a mature answer to that question, Sammy Boy. The media training is finally sticking. 

Sam blows Jake a raspberry. 

DANNY: We’re lucky to have a great social media team that catches some of our best and, well, not-so-best moments to share with our fans. I think it’s important to let our audience see that we have depth to us beyond our stage personas. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Fair enough. What do your fans have to do to hear “The Barbarians” live?

JOSH: So, what they’re gonna do is they’re gonna grab their checkbook, write me a number with a lot of zeros in it, and sign their name at the bottom.

JAKE: We played Barbarians not too long ago, didn’t we? 

SAM: I think there’s a high demand that we make it a regular. 

DANNY: It’s that guitar part, Jake. They can’t get enough of it. 

JAKE: Well, that’s more than enough to stroke my god complex. I say we play it every show, boys. 

Sam notices Jake’s shirt for the first time. 

SAM: Babygirl??

JAKE: Huh? (looks down at shirt) Oh, yeah. Like it? 

SAM: I thought I was the baby? 

JAKE: You’re so baby. It’s different. 

SAM: Wha- how? 

DANNY: He’s right. 

With a grunt, Danny removes his own shirt, revealing that he’s wearing a babygirl shirt as well. Sam gapes at his friend. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Is Daniel a Sephora VIB Rouge member yet? 

JOSH: What’s that? 

SAM: I think it stands for “Very Important Bitch.” In which case, yes, he is a VIB member. 

DANNY: (softly) I do have a Sephora member card. 

JAKE: Wait, really? 

DANNY: It made a lot of sense financially. Plus they send me cool stuff every month, so it’s something to look forward to. 

JAKE: (throwing himself back in his chair) Huh. 

DANNY: I got an eyeliner pencil I think you’d like. You can have it. 

JAKE: (softly, to Danny) Yes please. 

SAM: Can I get something? 

DANNY: Sure. 

Danny fumbles around in his pockets like he’s looking for something. Sam watches him with interest. Danny lifts his hand back up from his pocket, shooting Sam the bird. Sam immediately pouts. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Can we expect any new musical instruments on the album?

JOSH: You can anticipate a lot of evolved sonic elements. With Starcatcher, we wanted to challenge ourselves and expand our sound into something that somehow feels even larger than life than The Battle at Gardens Gate. Each song should transport you to a different time, place, and frame of mind. 

JAKE: Yeah, there is a lot more experimentation happening for this album, extending even beyond the instruments we use. A lot of it lies in the production as well, which we put a lot of thought into. We’re at the point in our musical journey where it’s almost like we’re at a crossroads: do we continue developing a sound that we’ve already created, or do we move in a new direction? It’s an exciting question to face, and I guess you’ll learn the answer soon. 

SAM: You guys are talking all big about new sounds and shit, but we never reached the Beach Boys-level of experimentation, using celery as a musical instrument. 

JOSH: Sam’s still upset that we didn’t let him play the zucchini on one of our tracks.

SAM: There was potential there, and you know it. 

DANNY: Not when you’re using that zucchini as a bow on your bass. It sounded like ass. 

SAM: You shut it down before I could figure it out. I was onto something, I swear! 

Jake, Josh, and Danny all turn to Detective Ace and very evidently mouth to him at the same time, “he wasn’t.” 

DETECTIVE ACE: (scans notes again) This one looks like something my colleague wrote out. Ummmm, Sammy, when will you shave off your facial hair? Frowny face. 

Sam furrows his brow and stands to his feet, slamming his hands down on the interrogation table with a loud BANG! He glares at Detective Ace and proceeds to rip off his fake mustache, revealing his real mustache underneath. He discards the fake mustache and it lands on the side of Josh’s face so it’s almost like he’s got a single sideburn. Josh’s face contorts into a look of utmost disgust. 

SAM: Does that answer your question? 

DETECTIVE ACE: It definitely doesn’t. 

Sam retrieves another fake mustache from his back pocket and carefully places it on his face. It’s a lot more crooked than his previous fake mustache, and notably bright red. Seemingly content, Sam takes his seat once more. Detective Ace awkwardly clears his throat and shuffles his papers. 

DETECTIVE ACE: This one is for Josh. Would you ever want to pursue acting or directing again outside of your music videos? 

JOSH: Mayhaps. 

JAKE: You did not just say “mayhaps.”

JOSH: Mayhaps I did. 

Jake shakes his head in disbelief. 

JOSH: I’m genuinely distraught that I didn’t get a casting call for the new Barbie movie. But I am relieved that Christopher Nolan didn’t reach out about Oppenheimer. I don’t think I could work with Josh Peck. 

SAM: Right, you couldn’t handle there being another, more successful, Josh on set. 

DANNY: Is Josh Peck really that successful? 

SAM: (gesturing back at Josh) More than this idiot. 

JOSH: (ignoring Sam) I’ve tried writing some stuff over the years and, I don’t know, there are some projects I’d like to pursue, but right now music is in the forefront of my mind. We’ve got some momentum that I don’t want to tamper with. 

JAKE: Thank god for that. 

JOSH: I do want to make a loose adaptation of The Wizard of Oz though, where they join a cult in the woods with the apple tree men. Maybe they’d sacrifice Toto or something, I don’t know. I think it could be a good opportunity to provide commentary on the People’s Temple Church. Is that controversial to say? I don’t know. 

SAM: It’s stupid to say, that’s what it is. 

JOSH: Some people just aren’t ready for big ideas. 

DANNY: (under his breath) The last thing we need is another Wizard of Oz adaptation. No one can beat what the Muppets did. 

DETECTIVE ACE: I think I’ve heard enough about the cults. So, why do you all hate Tumblr?

JOSH: What’s a Tumblr? 

JAKE: I think it’s that thing that you put drinks in. 

JOSH: Oh. 

SAM: It’s a social media site. And no, we don’t hate it. 

DANNY: I thought it wasn’t around anymore. 

SAM: (a little too quickly) No, it’s around. 

Danny whirls around to study Sam. Their eyes dance about as if they’re having a telepathic conversation. Danny leans closer into Sam’s side. 

DANNY: (just barely audible) Why are you on Tumblr? 

SAM: I like reading fanfiction on the bus. It’s really entertaining. 

DANNY: About us? 

SAM: We’ll talk about it later. 

JOSH: (repeating himself) What’s a Tumblr? 

JAKE: I don’t hate anything. 

DANNY: You hate geese. 

JAKE: Oh shit, yeah. (through grit teeth) I fuckin hate geese. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Are you going to revive your band’s Tumblr account? 

SAM: (perking up) We have a band account? 

DANNY: Based on that reaction, I think it’s safe to say there will be some activity there soon. 

DETECTIVE ACE: (nodding) What is your go-to cereal? 

JOSH: (giving his signature chuckle) I’m sorry, uh (looks around at his band members) Why is this relevant? 

JAKE: (thoughtfully) You can tell a lot about a person by the cereal they eat. 

JOSH: So, what’s your go-to then, Jakey? 

JAKE: Honey Nut Cheerios. 

JOSH: So basically you’re boring. You’re boring, Jake. 

DANNY: And concerned about his heart health. What about you, Josh? 

JOSH: Easy. Fruit Loops. Raw. 

JAKE: So you like holes. 

JOSH: I could say the same about you, Honey Nut Cheerios are the same shape! 

DANNY: Wait, raw??

JOSH: I don’t need milk. Actually, I can’t have milk with my cereal because it builds up phlegm around my vocal cords. So I eat my cereal raw. 

SAM: I like Lucky Charms, but only the marshmallows. Wait, no, I don’t like cereal. I’m more of an oatmeal guy. 

JOSH: You’re a weird fucker. 

JAKE: So you like to eat vomit?

SAM: It’s delightful with a bit of fruit, you don’t know what you’re talking about! 

JOSH: What’s your choice cereal, Daniel? 

DANNY: I gotta go with Frosted Mini Wheats. They’re a classic. 

JAKE: That’s actually, yeah, okay, that’s a good answer. 

JOSH: I can’t find any faults there. 

SAM: I’m gonna force you to eat oatmeal when we get home. 

JAKE: I’d like to see you try. 

DETECTIVE ACE: What do you do when you can’t sleep at night?

SAM: Eat oatmeal. 

JAKE: I usually can’t sleep at night because I’m so disturbed by the image of Sam eating oatmeal. 

JOSH: I go out and look at the stars and ponder life, death, and the history of time. Usually a nice cup of tea helps me too. And some other, uh, let’s call them supplements. 

DANNY: I listen to my comfort albums. 

SAM: What? Like Billy Squier? 

DANNY: No. Like Rumors and Abbey Road. I’ve had some pretty nasty insomnia over the years, but there’s nothing quite like Fleetwood Mac or the Beatles to ease the mind. 

JAKE: When I can’t sleep, I get so frustrated that I start punching shit. 

JOSH: I once caught him punching the refrigerator at 4am. 

JAKE: It’s cathartic, but it also makes me tired enough that I can fall asleep. I’ve even come up with some guitar riffs over the years while doing it. 

JOSH: Jake wrote the “Built By Nations” solo while he was punching a lawn mower in the middle of the night. 

DANNY: I wish they were joking. 

SAM: One time Jake started punching me when he couldn’t sleep. 

JAKE: I’ve told you, it wasn’t a direct attack, it was just a convenience thing. You were the closest to me and I was half-awake. 

JOSH: This isn’t making us look very good, is it? 

DETECTIVE ACE: You’re a bunch of characters, I can tell you that. Another question, specifically for Sam: did you meet your crush, Hozier, at Shaky Knees? And who has better hair?

SAM: I feel a little bit attacked by that question, Ace. First of all, he’s not my crush. 

DANNY: He’s my crush. 

SAM: That’s right, Danny is head over heels for the guy. He called dibs. Secondly, it’s not fair to compare our hair. 

JAKE: That’s Sammy’s way of admitting that Andrew’s hair is better. 

DANNY: We did get to meet him backstage, even though it was really brief. He’s a great guy, it would be incredible to collaborate with him on something down the road. 

JOSH: His voice is like an angel. And his lyrics? Perfect. He can do no wrong. 

DANNY: Sam’s knees nearly buckled when he first saw him. I had to hold him upright. 

SAM: I thought we agreed that was going to stay between us.

DANNY: Sorry, it felt relevant to mention. 

JAKE: I met Jack Black. It was probably one of the best days of my life. 

JOSH: Did he play you the greatest song in the world? 

JAKE: No, he couldn’t remember the greatest song in the world, he could only play a tribute. 

Jake and Josh share a goofy smile. 

DANNY: Andrew, if you’re watching this, please do a song with me. 

Sam nods his head rapidly. Across the table, Detective Ace’s phone starts to ring. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Sorry, excuse me for one second, I need to take this. 

Detective Ace gets up from his seat and hustles out of the room while answering his phone with a quick, “yello?” The members of Greta Van Fleet sit still in silence, listening to Detective Ace’s footsteps grow softer. Finally, Josh springs to his feet. 

JOSH: Think he’s gone? 

Jake stands as well and peers out the window in the door. 

JAKE: I don’t see him. 

JOSH: Okay, good. We’re breaking out of here. 

SAM: What? Why? He seems nice. 

DANNY: I don’t think that’s a good idea. 

JOSH: I’m like a bird, I need to be free. 

JAKE: I just want to see if we can pull it off. 

DANNY: How do we know there’s not someone behind that two way mirror? 

Danny turns to point at the massive two way mirror that lines the wall in front of them. Jake and Josh study the mirror and then shrug. 

JAKE: If someone’s there, let’s see if they can stop us. 

DANNY: What? No. 

Josh joins Sam’s side and grabs his spacesuit helmet. 

JOSH: Hold still, Samuel. 

SAM: Huh? 

Josh slams his helmet down on Sam’s handcuffs, hitting more of Sam’s hands than the actual handcuffs. Sam starts to holler out in pain, but Josh clamps a hand over his mouth. 

JOSH: Ssshhh, don’t blow our cover, okay? 

SAM: MMMmmmrmph??? 

Josh reaches the helmet back up to give it another go, but Danny grabs his hand to stop him from inflicting anymore pain or damage on Sam. Sam breathes out a sigh of relief. 

JOSH: So maybe we can get the handcuffs off you guys after we escape. 

Behind Josh, Jake grabs a chair from the interrogation table and chucks it at the two way mirror with a shout. The chair comically bounces off the mirror and lands on the floor, shattering into what looks like a million pieces. The mirror is unscathed. 

JAKE: (out of breath) Shit, I really thought that was gonna work. 

Now it’s Josh’s turn: he puts the helmet back on his head, taps it a couple of times for good luck, and hurls himself at the mirror head first. At this exact moment, Detective Ace comes back into the room. 

JAKE: Quick! Everyone act normal! 

Josh is flattened out on the floor. Sam is tending to his hands. Danny is shaking his head in disbelief. Jake tries to block the view of the chair that he absolutely decimated with a wide stance, awkwardly putting his hands on his hips with a large, fake smile. 

DETECTIVE ACE: What the hell is going on here?

Danny crouches down next to Josh and carefully removes his helmet. 

JOSH: (softly) Did we make it out? 

DANNY: Definitely not. 

JOSH: Damn. Better luck next time. 

Danny helps Josh back up to his feet and Josh holds onto him briefly for support before regaining his balance and composure. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Do you want to join me back at the table? 

DANNY: Yep. 

Josh and Danny return to the table and grab their seats again. Detective Ace also sits, leaving Jake standing around, lost, since he destroyed his chair. Jake looks unsure what to do, and then finally opts to try and hold a squat at the table, mimicking sitting in a chair. 

DETECTIVE ACE: (nodding towards Josh) Are you okay? 

Josh shrugs.

SAM: You wouldn’t believe how much head trauma he’s had over the years. 

DETECTIVE ACE: No, I think I would. Are you all ready to continue on with the questioning? I’m sorry for stepping out, the police chief needed to check in about something. 

SAM: Everything okay? 

DETECTIVE ACE: Nothing I can disclose. 

SAM: Fair enough. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Alright. I want to talk about your “Meeting the Master” music video: is there any lore going on there?

DANNY: Yes. 

SAM: Yes. 

JAKE: Yes. 

JOSH: Esyay. 

Everyone abruptly turns to face Josh, who looks back at them in confusion. 

JOSH: Isyay erethay omethingsay ongwray? 

SAM: Oh god, he’s speaking pig latin. 

JAKE: Not again. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Not again? 

Jake stands from his squat with a grunt and a few pops and then shuffles to Josh’s side and turns him around in his chair so they’re face to face. 

JAKE: You gotta snap out of it, Josh. Snap out of it! 

Jake snaps his fingers in front of Josh’s face a few times. Josh has a delayed reaction. 

JAKE: Shit. 

JOSH: Iyay eelfay inefay. 

SAM: I think we should keep him this way. It’s kinda funny. 

DANNY: No one’s gonna know what he’s saying. 

JAKE: Does anyone know what he’s usually saying? 

Danny purses his lips. Jake has a point. 

JOSH: Owhay antsway otay alktay aboutyay ouryay usicmay ideovay? 

DANNY: I got it. There’s definitely a story being told in our “Meeting the Master” music video. I don’t think we should hand you the answer on a silver platter since there’s a lot of rewards that come with analyzing it and forming your own perspective on the message, but we definitely drew inspiration from specific art pieces, old literature, and key pieces of history. 

JAKE: If you look closely, we do a few callbacks to earlier music videos and songs as well. There’s a lot of easter eggs in there. 

SAM: The main lore is those red gloves were really hard to get on and take off. I was about ready to accept that they were going to become a part of me. 

DANNY: That’s not really what lore means, Sam. 

Sam looks like he could care less and focuses his attention on stroking his fake mustache. Detective Ace can’t stop staring at him. 

JOSH: Ethay usicmay ideovay isyay illedfay ithway agicmay, evilyay, andyay ethay owerpay atthay omescay ithway omisingpray impossibleyay ingsthay. Iyay eallyray eelfay ikelay it'syay oneyay ofyay ouryay ostmay ignificantsay andyay elevantray usicmay ideosvay etyay, eoplepay ouldshay aketay isthay asyay ayay arningway andyay asyay anyay opportunityyay otay eflectray onyay eirthay iveslay andyay ethay ecisionsday eythay akemay eachyay ayday. Inyay actfay, iyay ouldway ecommendray atthay - 

JAKE: I can’t do this. 

Jake grabs Josh’s helmet, secures it back on Josh’s head, grabs him around the waist, and chucks him into the mirror once more, head first. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Oh. 

Danny springs to his feet in shock. 

DANNY: Jake! 

JAKE: (down to Josh, who is on the floor again) Better? 

Josh groans and rolls around so he’s on his back and pulls off his helmet. 

JOSH: Je ne peux pas croire que tu viens de me jeter comme ça. (I can’t believe you just threw me like that) 

Jake hoists Josh up once more and slams his helmeted head against the mirror. 

JAKE: (out of breath) Now? 

JOSH: I think so. 

JAKE: Thank fuckin god. 

Josh and Jake return to the table. Jake swoops in to steal Josh’s seat before he can sit, leaving Josh standing behind Jake, Danny, and Sam while scratching at the back of his head. 

DANNY: (to Josh) Are you okay? 

JOSH: I’ve had worse. 

DETECTIVE ACE: I’ll ease you back in with a simpler question. How many pairs of shoes do you have? 

SAM: None. 

Sam leans back in his chair, kicks his feet up, and slams them down on the table, revealing his bare dogs. Detective Ace’s cup of lukewarm coffee is spilled in the process, forming a puddle around Danny’s discarded top that he shed earlier. 

DANNY: Aw man. 

Beside Danny, Jake is counting on his fingers while staring up at the ceiling in deep concentration. 

JAKE: I would approximate about six. But I really only wear three pairs on the regular. 

JOSH: (teasing with a callback) He keeps his pumps in the back of the closet for special occasions. 

Jake scowls in Josh’s direction. 

DANNY: I probably own too many shoes. I should donate some. 

JOSH: Yeah, donate them to Sam, please. 

SAM: I lied, I do own a pair of shoes. Actually, maybe two. Or three. 

JOSH: Will there be any consequences if I give an incorrect answer? I genuinely don’t know. 

DETECTIVE ACE: You can give an estimate. 

JOSH: Between 0-50. 

JAKE: He is a diva, you know. And divas need their shoes. 

JOSH: I mostly have sneakers, nothing fancy. I need something that’s easy to slip out of, you know, not too confining. 

SAM: Gotta let the dogs breathe! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Moving on from the feet, would you ever consider doing meet and greets again?

DANNY: Ummmmmm…

SAM: I don’t really like the idea of people paying to meet us. I mean, we really aren’t that great. 

JAKE: That’s your opinion. 

SAM: I’d rather meet fans naturally, while we’re out and about. It’s a lot more intimate that way, a lot less pressure. If you see me, buy me a drink and I’ll be your best friend. 

DANNY: I do agree with that. I mean, I value my privacy, but I don’t want to have some super commercialized meet and greet where you take a picture with me, give me a hug, and then walk away a hundred bucks poorer. 

SAM: At the end of the day, we’re just human. Treat us that way. 

JOSH: I have nothing to add to that. 

Josh reaches into a pocket in his spacesuit and retrieves a bag of red rhinestones and a bottle of glue. Detective Ace eyes him cautiously, but Josh doesn’t notice. He’s too busy tearing into the packaging and opening his glue. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Do you believe in love at first sight?

Josh places dots of glue on his cheeks and quickly covers them with the red rhinestones, looking as if he has a case of extra sparkly chicken pox. He doesn’t stop there though: Josh continues to mindlessly add the rhinestones to his face until it’s becoming challenging to see his bare skin. 

JAKE: (sincerely) I think it does.

SAM: I fell in love with my bass the first time I saw it, does that count? 

JOSH: (while still adding rhinestones to his face) Love is a delightful, innocent, beautiful thing. You really never know where it’s going to take you, but it’s around us all the time. Sure, it can be challenging to spot out at times, but I think it does have the power to strike you immediately, without necessarily knowing someone. It’s a part of human nature to love, and be loved. 

Danny is too busy watching Josh turn himself into the personification of Dorothy’s slippers to answer the question. Detective Ace takes Danny’s silence as a cue to move on to his next question. Before he can, though, Josh clears his throat and nods towards the door. Every square inch of his face is now covered in rhinestones. 

JOSH: Can I use the gents? 

DETECTIVE ACE: By all means. 

Josh hustles out of the room. 

JAKE: He’s all about his theatrics, never a dull moment with that one. 

Danny ducks underneath the table and seems to be fussing around with something. Sam leans over to ask if he needs help, and then Danny motions for him to join him under the table, which Sam does with a laugh. This leaves only Jake sitting at the table, staring at Detective Ace with a blank look. Detective Ace looks back at him. Jake doesn’t appear to be blinking. After a frankly unnerving amount of time staring back and forth at each other, Sam pops his head back out from under the table, no longer wearing his red mustache. Danny comes out as well and is wearing a long, straight, brunette wig, a fake beard, and a bucket hat, his stage makeup entirely wiped off. His babygirl shirt has been swapped for a button up top that looks straight out of the seventies. He takes a seat back in his chair and pulls out a pair of drumsticks, which he twirls around. Shortly afterwards, Josh re-enters the interrogation room with his face scrubbed clean of the rhinestones. He’s wearing a long, blonde, curly wig and his Elle Fernanda glasses. 

ELLE FERNANDA: The line in that bathroom was a-trocious! 

SAM: Elle Fernanda? To what do I owe the pleasure?

ELLE FERNANDA: I was just in town, looking around for a new chunky candamera, and I wandered in here. I saw some nice donuts in the window from the street. 

DANNY: (in a jarring British accent) Would you like to join us? 

ELLE FERNANDA: Well, you seem like a very polite gentleman. I’ll happily take a seat and settle for a little bit to rest my feet. 

Elle Fernanda approaches Jake and clears her throat. Jake looks up at her and Elle Fernanda motions that he get out of her seat. Jake looks like he really doesn’t want to, but he stands and backs away from the table. 

ELLE FERNANDA: Thank you, darling. 

DETECTIVE ACE: We were answering some questions, if you don’t mind. 

ELLE FERNANDA: Oh, please, go ahead, I’ll try not to be a bother. 

Elle Fernanda adjusts the glasses on her face and reaches into her purse, retrieving a nail file which she starts using on her fingers. 

ELLE FERNANDA: I wish I had some sticked-ons with me. They’d make my hands look really nice today. 

DANNY: (still British) Red would look pretty. 

ELLE FERNANDA: This young man gets it, he really does! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Returning back to the questioning, if you had to get a tattoo right now, what would you get and where? 

ELLE FERNANDA: Are you offering? If you pay, I’d get one now. 

DETECTIVE ACE: No, it’s a, uh, hypothetical question. 

ELLE FERNANDA: Shame. 

JAKE: Easy, “Cream” above my buttcrack. 

Elle Fernanda raises a hand up to her chest in shock. 

ELLE FERNANDA: My word! 

SAM: I’d probably get my dog’s paw print somewhere, I don’t know, maybe on the bottom of my foot or something. 

JAKE: That sounds fucking painful. 

SAM: It would be sentimental. 

ELLE FERNANDA: A little bit cliche too. 

DANNY: (still British) Maybe the Ludwig logo. Or the Borromean rings. 

Detective Ace squints at Danny. Danny is unbothered by this. 

ELLE FERNANDA: I would get something sweet, like a flow-ah, or, or, maybe a strawberry or something. 

SAM: Where would you put your tattoo, Elle? 

ELLE FERNANDA: A lady never tells. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Now, will the sword make more appearances? 

JAKE: I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask! 

Jake hops on top of the interrogation table with ease and, seemingly out of nowhere, unsheathes his infamous sword, holding it up towards the ceiling in a pose very similar to Luke Skywalker on the Star Wars: A New Hope poster. Elle takes one look at the sword, lets out a shrill shriek, and books it out of the room. Jake seems to be energized by this since he swings the sword around a couple of times, calling out with glee. 

SAM: Jake, get down from there! 

Jake is unbelievably lost in the moment. 

JAKE: Land ho! Treasure ahead, me hearties, we’ll be rich in no time! All we have to do is cross the crocodile-infested swamp and sneak into the cave of shadows and then we’ll be in piles of gold up to our elbows! Yarrrrr! 

DANNY: (still British) Will we run into Moby Dick on our way? 

JAKE: Argh, no whales with phallic names, me boy, only reptiles with a bloodlust like you wouldn’t believe! But we’ll cut and slash through them like they’re jelly! 

Jake continues flinging the sword around which causes Sam to finally step in, carefully joining Jake on top of the table and snatching the sword out of his hand. 

SAM: (scolding) I thought we agreed to keep this thing locked up.

JAKE: (snapping out of his pirate fantasy) Sorry I want to have fun from time to time. 

SAM: (under breath) No need to go shanking people at a police precinct. 

Josh returns back to the room, still donning the long, curly, blonde wig. From the doorway, he carefully steps out of his spacesuit, revealing a blue floral mini-robe that’s open to expose his chest. He’s also wearing an impressive pair of flare jeans. 

JOSH: (also British) Sorry, this older woman was making quite the fuss in the front, going off about someone with a sword? She was in hysterics. 

JAKE: Oops. 

Josh takes a seat beside Danny and gives him a quick fist bump. 

JOSH: John. 

DANNY: Robert. 

DETECTIVE ACE: (looking increasingly skeptical about the scene unfolding in front of him) Can you tell me the song that was most popular the year you were born? 

DANNY: Twelfth Street Rag. 

JOSH: Same. 

SAM: (now also British, albeit with a poor accent) Prisoner of Love. Great tune.

Everyone looks to Jake for his response, but he is no longer at the table. Detective Ace rises to his feet to scan around the room. After Detective Ace turns in half a circle, Jake pops his head out from under the table. He’s wearing a dark, curly mane of a wig on his head and his dragon suit. 

JAKE: (British, but a bit different than Oliver Reed) Swinging On A Star. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Okay…What’s a conspiracy you believe in?

SAM: The moon landing was a complete hoax. 

JAKE: (British) Well, detective, you see, this might come across as a bit outlandish, but I believe that there is a band of young men out in Michigan who are copying our every move in order to find success as rock musicians. 

Detective Ace springs to his feet with a new surge of energy. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Aha! 

Detective Ace fumbles around with a walkie talkie in his euphoria. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Sergeant? Yes, I got them. 

JOSH: (to Jake) Nice one. 

JAKE: It was bound to slip at some point. 

Four cops hustle into the room and secure handcuffs around Jake and Josh’s wrists. Sam and Danny each get an additional pair of handcuffs around their wrists just because. 

DETECTIVE ACE: You four are charged with identity theft, for posing as the original members of the band, Led Zeppelin. 

SAM: That’s absurd! We’d never! 

DANNY: Yeah, that’s bogus, man! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Take them into processing, I’ve got a lot of paperwork to fill out. 

JOSH: This is all just a big misunderstanding, we’re our own people! Are we not allowed to take inspiration from a revolutionary band? Maybe we just have similar interests and perspectives about things! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Save it for the judge, buddy. 

JOSH: Wait until my lawyer hears about this! 

JAKE: (whispering) We don’t have a lawyer. 

JOSH: Shit!! How have we made it this far?

JAKE: Luck. A lot of luck. 

The cops escort Sam, Danny, Jake, and Josh out of the room. Josh is the last to leave, but he sticks his head back into the room one last time. 

JOSH: AND I WOULD HAVE GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT TOO IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU MEDDLING KIDS! 

The cop drags Josh back out into the hallway and the door slams shut, leaving Detective Ace alone in the room. He studies the discarded chairs and mess in front of him and shakes his head in disbelief. In silence he lights a cigarette and takes a long drag, looking thoughtful. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Were my questions addressed? Yes, but at what cost? 

[camels-pen]

Snaked

Summary:

/snaked/ 1) To get stabbed in the back or be generally screwed over by someone 2) Stole or stolen. 1. That fucker just snaked me. / I thought he could be trusted but he snaked me. 2. I just snaked that dude's wallet.

Danny and Sam learn Tucker has a fear of snakes. He also happens to steal Danny's hard earned prize. Oh, and Danny turns into a dragon.

based on @bellsandmischief's prompt "Danny and friends are yeeted via portal into a medieval/mythical universe, and now have to defeat a Hydra (or other mythical beast) to get the "key" to get home."

Ao3 Link

“Hark! Wake the girlies from their sleep, there’s a beast afoot!”

“That’s not how it goes,” Sam said. “And get off of there before you make it notice us.”

“So sue me, I haven’t read the book,” Danny grumbled, floating to the ground. “And I was just trying to lighten things up.”

“And while I appreciate that, how about we lighten things up after we get Tucker back from the massive hydra?”

“Seconded!” yelled a tiny voice in Danny’s ear. He winced and turned down the volume of the Fenton Phones. 

“Well, it’s not like he’s in any real danger at the moment, and you were starting to get a permanent scowl on your face.”

“I’ll put a permanent scowl on your face.”

“Guys, can we please do this later?! I think the hydra’s trying to ask me out and I don’t know how to say no without getting eaten!”

Danny hummed, leaning back against the massive stone wall. “Try—” He made the sound of a train whistle, followed by shredded paper.

“Ow! Did you have to say that so loud?” 

“Wasn’t any louder than your yelling earlier.”

“Hey, Danny,”—Sam squinted at him—“what exactly did you say?”

“Why?”

“Because it sounded like ‘you have faces only a mother snake could love’.”

Danny clicked his tongue. Damn Sam and her growing knowledge of Ghost Speak.

“I’m not saying that!” Tucker screeched. “That’s like a guaranteed ticket to its stomach!”

Danny put a hand to his chin. “I think it’d be ‘stomachs’, plural. Since it’s got a bunch of heads it probably has—”

“Not helping!” Tucker yelled.

“Ugh, fine, fine. I’ll drop it.” He craned his neck up to watch the massive green hydra above them, Tucker sat atop one of its yellow scaled heads while the others dote over him. “How’d you even get this thing to want you so bad? Did your stinky cologne finally work on someone?”

“Okay, A) it’s not stinky it’s funky fresh, and, B) I. Don’t. Know!” he wailed.

“Have you found the gem, at least?” Sam asked.

“Well, I would have if I wasn’t preoccupied with NOT GETTING EATEN!” Danny put a hand over his eyes, squinting through the sunlight. It looked like one of the heads licked Tucker. He heard him shudder. “Eww, gross.”

“You’ve been up there that long and you still haven’t found it? Amateur.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, have you ever been held hostage by a hydra before? Hmm?” Sam looked like she was about to answer, but Tucker barely gave pause. “I didn’t think so. So how about we trust the current expert on hydra kidnappings and believe him when he says THIS IS TERRIFYING!”

“I still don’t think it exists,” Danny said with a shrug. “I mean it’s way too good to be true.”

“Well, you can go back to the castle and ask the stuck up king again, but I think he’d just start yelling about cutting off your head for coming back empty handed.” 

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. Especially not when my powers are still messed up from that portal.” Danny held open his palm imagining a fiery blast of ectoplasm appearing. There was a little puff of smoke followed by a fart sound. “But neither of you find it weird that when we asked if they knew any ghosts or magic that could get us home, they said ‘hey, the hydra’s got this shiny green rock, maybe that could help’ and shoved us at it?” 

“Obviously it’s suspicious, but we don’t exactly have any other leads here!” 

“Oh, c’mon Tuck, I thought you were into monsters and stuff,” Danny said, trying for his ice next, but ending up with a single snowflake. It quickly melted in his palm.

“I am a strict werewolf lover, thank you very much!”

“I don’t know if ‘lover’ is the right term—”

“I’m never letting you download MCR songs on my PDA ever again.”

“Hey now, no need to be unreasonable. We’ve got a plan to get you down and everything,” she said. She turned off her Fenton Phone then turned to say, “I can’t afford to lose my battle music. We need to think of a plan.”

“I can still hear you through Danny’s mic!”

Danny sighed. “I’ve been trying to think of stuff, but without my powers working—and since those cheapskates from the castle wouldn’t give us any weapons—I don’t really have any ideas.”

“Damn, none of your powers work?” 

“I’ve been cycling through them, but yeah. Nothing except flight.” Danny picked up a hefty rock, examining it before holding it up. “You think I could just fly up and dump a bunch of stuff on it and hope to kill it? Maybe use a sharp stick to cut off its heads?”

Sam made a face of disgust. “We’re not killing it. We’re better than that.” She shook her head. “Besides, hydras in Greek mythology grow two new heads for every head cut off. Or something like that.”

He gasped. “You? Not sure about creepy monster mythology??”

Sam smacked his arm. “It’s been a while since I read my big book on myths, okay? Shut up.”

“Still about to be eaten here!”

They both looked up. Saw a few of the heads rubbing their cheeks against him. Looked down.

“You think his fear of snakes is new?”

“Maybe. Though it could just be a fear of giant snakes.” Danny hummed. “Probably new either way though. Also, we should probably get him down before he faints or something.”

Sam sighed. “It’s a shame we can’t just ask it to give us Tucker back.” She paused. “And the gem.”

Something pulsed in Danny’s chest. He rubbed at it. “Huh. That’s new.” 

“What? Are your powers working again?”

“Something like that, I think.” He opened and closed his hands a few times, feeling the bones shift at his command. He smirked. “Oh yeah, this’ll work.”

Danny closed his eyes, imagining the massive creature in his head. Thought of changing, shifting, becoming.

“Holy FUCK! Sam, what is he doing?!”

“I don’t know! Maybe he’s allergic to something here?!” 

“Quiet,” he growled, voice much deeper than before. “Need to. Concentrate.”

Danny felt himself grow taller, longer, stronger. He felt something tough and scratchy sprout from his skin, felt his nails growing longer and sharper, felt two little sharp things poke out of his forehead. His bones restructured themselves until he was forced forwards onto his hands and feet. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but he was grateful it wasn’t painful either.

Or, at least, it wasn’t until he felt something explode outward from his back. He yelled—roared, [That fucking hurt!]

He blinked his eyes open and found himself face-to-face—er, faces—with the hydra. A trembling Tucker was sitting atop one of the heads, hands desperately gripping onto one of the thick horns protruding out from the back of the head. 

“If he’s allergic to something then why did he turn into a dragon?!”

[Because I didn’t want the headaches that would come with having 7 extra brains, obviously,] he said. Sam and Tucker continued to bicker as if he hadn’t said a word. [And now they’re not listening to me, great.]

[It’s a simple hivemind,] a higher pitched voice said, scoffing. [And of course humans can’t hear our mother tongue.] Danny looked around for the source of the voice. But there was no one here other than the three of them.

[Hello? I’m over here.] He followed the voice to—[Honestly, youth these days are so melodramatic.]

The hydra. The very cuddly hydra that liked Tucker for some reason. Could talk this whole time?

[Why didn’t you say anything before?]

[I believe I just explained humans can’t hear our mother tongue.] Each of the heads sniffed in unison. [I’ve been speaking the whole time.]

[Well, then how can I understand you now?]

It rolled all 8 pairs of eyes. [Look for yourself.]

Danny looked down. His eyes widened. [Holy shit.]

From head to toe—head to paw? Whatever—Danny was covered in dark black scales, with a small patch of white ones on his chest. His hands and—he craned his neck back—yup, his feet too, were turned into huge scaly paws with large white claws. He turned in place and curved his neck around to look over his shoulder. There were big leathery wings too, the joints covered in scales, but the inner parts a bright green colour. 

He tried to imagine flapping them, and they actually moved. Though it was more of an awkward flailing that hit his face.

Now that he’d paused to notice all the changes in his body though, he could feel two identical weights on his head. When he reached a paw upwards, he felt large horns attached to his forehead.

Something felt… off though.

[Shouldn’t I have a tail or something? I thought all dragons had tails. Or, at least, all the cool ones anyway.]

The hydra snickered. [Oh, you’ve got a tail alright.]

Danny turned further to try and catch sight of it. [Where? I can’t see anything.]

[It’s a little cottontail. The ones you would see on a small prey animal.] Like a rabbit? Ugh. Of course a new ghost power wouldn’t work right on the first try. He should’ve figured.

“Hey, Danny! If you can hear me, I think you need to grab Tucker, he doesn’t sound too hot!” Sam’s tiny voice yelled up at him. He couldn’t completely make out what she was saying, but he did hear something about Tucker and the guy was looking a lot wobblier on his perch on the hydra. He better hurry up.

[Uh, hey, listen hydra guy, we’re just trying to get home. So do you think we could borrow your rock for a little while?]

[Rock?] The hydra tilted all of its heads to the right. Well, 7 of its heads. It thankfully didn’t move the head holding Tucker.

[The magic glowing gem.]

[That? Pah, you can take it.] The hydra started to make a gagging noise from one of its mouths and spat out a saliva coated glowing gem on the ground. 

[Cool cool,] He lifted a paw to point at Tucker. [I’m also gonna need my friend back.]

The hydra pressed closer to Tucker, the unoccupied 7 heads falling into a circle around him. [Why? I’d take good care of him. You can leave him with me.] 

Danny didn’t like the way it talked about Tucker like a pet. He changed tactics. [Why are you so hung up on Tucker anyway? Is it his smell, or…?]

[Oh heavens, no,] it said. [This human’s red top and yellow scales remind me of my sister. It’s been ages since I’ve seen her.] It bumped one of its heads into Tucker’s chest, sticking a forked tongue out to lick the air. Tucker froze the moment its jaw opened and when the tongue appeared he was out like a light. He started to fall backwards, Danny jolting up to catch him, but the hydra beat him to it, quickly wrapping around Tucker’s torso to hold him up. 

[See?] it said. [I’m great at this.] Its head tightened around him. [Now leave us alone.]

[Nah, I think it’s time you took a little trip.] Danny lunged forward, turning just as he ran past and flaring his wings. He meant to sweep the hydra’s legs out from under it, but instead ended up falling over his new and unfamiliar limbs, his wings getting terribly bent and, at one point, stepped on. It still got the job done, but—[God FUCK that hurt, jesus CHRIST.]

“Tucker!” Sam yelled. Danny jerked his head around, watching Tucker fall and start to get dangerously close to the ground. He couldn’t stretch out his wings in time and his paws were tipped with claws! How was he supposed to—?!

An idea hit him. 

Swiftly, he scrambled backwards and stuck his ass straight into the air, hoping he was right.

He felt a small weight land on his backside, on fur instead of scales. Danny breathed a sigh of relief.

Carefully, he lowered himself to the ground, waiting until Sam was close enough to grab Tucker before sitting down completely.

[That was a little too close for comfort,] he said with a laugh. [We should probably grab the gem and get out of here.]

[You will regret doing that, little dragon.]

The hydra stood once more, all of its eyes thinned to slits and their yellow scales fluttering up as if it was a cat with raised hackles.

[I’m so rattled,] Danny said as he moved to stand above his friends. [Ha! Snake pun!] He looked down to watch for Sam’s reaction before remembering his current state of being. Damn. [Why is it that when I’m finally able to come up with good puns in this dimension, you guys can’t hear them?] he grumbled. Sam, of course, had no response for him.

[I am no simple snake,] the hydra hissed. [At worst I am most similar to a Greater Lizard!]

[Either way, Tucker’s more of a wolf guy.] Danny growled, [So how about you beat it before I get serious.]

[You really expect me to believe you can beat me? When you fell over your own front paws while taking the human back from me?] The hydra laughed, one head laughing a single time, followed by another and another. [I’d like to see you try.] Each of its mouths opened in unison, eight balls of crackling electricity growing bigger and bigger in their jaws.

Danny sighed. It was always electricity. 

It did give him an idea though. 

He opened his own mouth and concentrated on the feeling of his ice powers. As soon as he felt it crawl up his throat, he blasted them outwards. Small uneven balls of ice pelted the hydra, hitting noses, eyes, horns, and, eventually, one of those glowing balls of electric energy. 

It exploded in the mouth of one of the heads and it roared, out of sync with the other heads that were still charging. It knocked into the two other heads on either side of it and the head on the right accidentally let off its charge, setting the ground at its feet on fire.

The hydra heads kept knocking into other heads and setting off their electric charges too. Also, the bottom half of the hydra was jumping around, trying to avoid the fire. It was quite a sight.

Eventually, the hydra ended up within arm’s reach of Danny. He grinned.

[You know, you’re a pretty fun guy. Hissssterical, even.] He stood up on his hind legs. [But it’s time for my fist to give you a little goodnight hiss.] He pulled back his hand and punched one of the middle heads, the one that had been constricting around Tucker earlier. 

The Hydra went down with a cry of pain. It twitched a little, but after a while it thankfully didn’t get up again.

Danny looked down at his friends.

Now how to change back. Hmm—

As if responding to his thoughts, his body started to shed its scales and shrink down. He felt the wings on his back start to disappear, followed closely by his other draconic traits.

By the time he’d turned by into his regular halfa self, Tucker was awake and sitting on the grass looking drained. Sam was standing right behind him, practically holding him up with her legs as she examined the gem.

When he looked up at her, she tossed the gem to him. “I think it works on ectoplasm. Give it some juice.” 

Danny nodded. “Sure thing.” He tried again to create a ball of ectoplasm in his palms, smiling when he found his powers working like normal. “Huh, guess the dragification shook whatever was blocking my powers loose.”

“So, what the hell was that all about anyway?” Sam asked. “The becoming a dragon thing.”

Danny shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly what I was going for, but I needed to get big enough to grab Tucker and probably beat the thing up, then I felt my bones shifting—no, no I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds—anyway I just ‘thought big’ and then something funky in my chest just started making me change.”

“We’re gonna circle back to that bone thing.” Sam glared at him. “But, I mean, it was a pretty good first try for turning into a dragon.”

“A good try for a dragon, yeah, but I was just trying to make myself bigger. I didn’t mean to do the whole shapeshifting into a huge mythological creature thing.” He grinned. “It was pretty cool though.”

“Very cool,” Tucker said. “Very big fan of the tail. That thing was a real lifesaver. Great for saving someone a hare’s breadth from death.”

“Wow, beating Danny to making the first pun in a new dimension? I’m impressed, Tuck,” Sam said.

“What the—he did not. I made a pun earlier! Several!”

“You mean when we couldn’t understand a thing you were saying and were otherwise preoccupied with the hydra?” Sam asked. “And you just happened to remember this now?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds bad, but it’s true!” he insisted. “I made a snake pun!”

“Sssssure you did, Danny.” If he wasn’t concentrating on the gem, he would so punch Tucker right now.

Sam leaned down to give Tucker a fist bump. “Nice.”

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here until Danny hurries his ass up and makes a portal home.”

“I hate you guys,” Danny grumbled.

[dracwife]

inquiries.

ship: dannilore word count: 1365 summary: my half of an art trade with @apheliiion-ships ! i've never written for lore before, so this was quite fun to do. i hope i did alright, in my mind i imagined they'd have a bit of banter before the whole. kidnapping thing, which as you know is my favorite thing ever to write ;O

"And I believe you are already familiar with Danni. They were a part of the field team that found you."

"Of course. Nice to meet you."

Danni's eyes squint, half in question, half in strain -- the light that pours in from the hall hits them and though it doesn't hurt, it takes a moment to adjust.

When it finally does, they see the familiar outline of Wesley, standing just alongside the pale figure. Their senses tingle, and though they haven't the capacity to focus in on that point like perhaps any of their alien-kind could, they did know well whatever it was was not human.

Their eyes finally are able to make out features, and they recognize the android. For a moment they mistake it for the Lieutenant-Commander. But the way he is dressed -- the way it, they correct themselves mentally, is dressed -- the way it carries itself, is not the same.

No, this was the sum of parts they had found just earlier on their expedition, now assembled.

Their lip curls, brows furrowing. The room falls quiet, there's an air of expectancy until finally, the Lieutenant responds:

"I don't trust it. Why is it here?"

Wes falters, taken aback by their abrupt response, as does the android, who tilts his head in shock.

"I suppose I did not mean to intrude, the boy was just showing me around, is all. I hear Data is a valuable asset to the ship's crew. I figured perhaps one day soon I may be the same."

"Not if I have any hand in it."

"Perhaps you will not."

Danni scoffs, picking up their PADD, and brushes past the two. Wes attempts to stop them, but they continue on anyway:

"I have a report to finish, if you'll excuse me."

It was much to their displeasure, of course when over the next few days the android -- Lore as it had come to have been called -- continued to prove quite an irritating, but regular presence amongst the crew. They kept a close watch on him, of course (and yes, they had taken to calling it a him, as commanded by their superiors, which they supposed they were then obligated to), as was their duty as a security officer but also found it remarkably hard to get away from him when they most wanted to.

Such as, in that moment, when he so gleefully invited himself into their office, yet again.

In a strange way, they had almost gotten used to it, him being around just when they figured they'd given him the slip.

Now he stood just before their desk, fingers brushing over the corner as he rounds it, gaze analyzing every detail of their space, from the dully-colored walls of the Lieutenant's quarters to the far wall -- a window out into the endless beyond of space, something Danni was fortunate enough to have, as most low-ranking officers did not, to even the chipped paint of the floor where boots had kicked and scuffed over many voyages over many months. 

He picked at one of the many imperfections in their desk, which only fueled their deeply-rooted annoyance at his mere presence.

"Can I help you?" they finally offered.

"Probably. Maybe not, though," he continued his close examination of every small thing, very obviously in a taunting sort of way; They knew quite well that androids hadn't the need to study close any real object, rather the mere glance could store within their memory drive any number of details that the human, or humanoid, mind could only do after close inspection. No, he was doing this just to irritate them. 

"Why are you here?" they ask again, arms crossing against their chest now. They lean back, hoping to give an air of upset, perhaps even intimidation by relaxing so. 

"A good question!" Lore turns, "I wish to study you."

"Why me? Why not…Literally anyone else?"

He grins, "You intrigue me. You aren't like most of the other humans on this ship. In fact, You're not even like most of the other aliens, either."

Danni scoffs, eyes rolling as they return to their work before he interrupts them again:

"I have been trying endlessly to figure it out, but I cannot…So, what exactly are you?"

"I'm a Starfleet officer, who's three seconds away from learning how to disassemble a Soong-type android, intimately."

There's a flash of something behind his eyes then, which almost startles Danni -- it's not something they've ever seen before, at least, not in an android. And certainly not in Data. 

What jars them more, though, is what he says next.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Lieutenant."

They stand, slowly, opposite of Lore now, with concern. The way he speaks, the way he moves even, that look he gave them. It was far too human for their tastes. He smirks over, clearly amused by the whole situation.

"Excuse me?" they manage to hiss back, taking a step towards him. Were they not bound by regulation, their hand would've been halfway to their phaser already, but instead they run protocol through their mind, a futile attempt to restrain themselves from pressing further. With still a decent distance between the two of them, Danni stops.

"You aren't like him. Like your brother."

"Perhaps not. Maybe that makes me superior."

"Maybe that makes you dangerous," their fingers brush the holster of their belt, their eyes flash towards the emergency call button by the door. If they dodged right, they could likely rush past him and --

"Relax, Lieutenant. I'm no threat to you."

Their attention is drawn back to him, and he seems to have taken a half-step back, and as they focus back they notice the shift in his weight…Just enough to block their view of the exit. 

"I'll ask one more time, what are you here for?"

"Simply to talk."

Their hand falls from their phaser. They relax back onto their heels. His expression dims, back to that normal, artificial sort of look.

"I was actually hoping you'd give me a bit of insight as to how this ship works, exactly. With you being part of Security, and well -- to be quite honest, you're one of the only people I really know here."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

He frowns. 

"Besides, I thought Wes introduced you to the crew," they follow-up, every word drawn out in caution.

"Oh, yes, the young boy did. But you…You were there when I was discovered. Doesn't that make our bond…A little more special than formality introductions?"

Danni's stomach churns at the thought. 

"No, it doesn't."

"Then perhaps we should get to know each other better!"

Lore's face twitches, and Danni waits, unable to parse if it was on purpose, or perhaps some sort of fault in his hardware. Their head tilts away slightly, watchful eyes still trained on him.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, either," their voice drops low again. 

"You're a…Hard nut to crack, I believe is the phrase?" he tuts, "But maybe you'll loosen up soon."

Danni's head shakes slightly, half in question, half in vigilance.

"I wouldn't tell anyone about my visit here today, either. You know, with you threatening me, and all. Wouldn't want that going on your already, as far I am aware, very long disciplinary record, hm?"

Lore smiles, and they see that flash of something behind his eyes again. He turns on his heels, and exits their quarters, leaving them solitary in their now, very large and eerily quiet room. He's just quick enough that they scarcely hear the words he mumbles under his breath:

"Oh, yes. I think we will get to know each other very well, soon."

They feel a shiver run the length of their spine, and they aren't sure if its some alien part of them that causes it, or the resounding presence of the thing that just left them, or perhaps the way they felt, for once, that someone -- something -- could finally stand to match their own attitude and sense of reckless verbal banter, but somewhere deep in their mind worms an idea that frightens them to their core: 

That maybe, they would so much mind that.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes.

Danny Phantom

Danien by artistfingers (NOTE: Technically a comic, but so cute!!)

Part 1 of Undercover Phantom AU

Vlad’s newest bit of tech revokes Danny’s ability to shift out of ghost mode, and he subsequently makes some new friends.

(Otherwise known as, “I heard you like hidden identities, so I gave your hidden identity a hidden identity”)

Undercover Phantom AU: a No One Knows AU featuring lots of silliness and maybe sometimes a little angst, focusing primarily on the newfound friendship between Phantom, Tucker, Sam… and Fenton. An ongoing webcomic, originally posted on tumblr!

TGCF

The Bride Selection by trufflehargau

Xie Lian held up the flyer, and squinted at it through the eye-holes of his mask. Beneath the words ‘Join the Selection! Be the Ghost King’s Bride!’ the sweeping eaves rendered in wobbly black ink matched the silhouette of the building in the distance. Paradise Manor. The Ghost King’s home.

(The Princess and the Pea retelling? Set before the events of the novel. The Ghost King of Paradise Manor is selecting a bride. Xie Lian doesn't really know what he's doing there.)

To see the next part of the dream by goodbye_blue

“I’m sorry Gege, I’m just a bit surprised. Let me make sure I am understanding this correctly,” he said, taking half a step forward. “You are real and also asleep. I am also real, and not a figment of your imagination. We are both real, and asleep, and dreaming the same dream right now.”

Xie Lian shrugged. “It looks like it.”

(When Xie Lian gets hit by a curse, he winds up sharing his dreams with a certain ghost king who would very much like to know where he is in real life.)

SVSSS

open my lungs to let you in by ghostybreads

Shen Qingqiu had a secret. So, naturally, it was only a matter of time before he was hit by a truth serum wife plot. (“How are you?” “Horny. Kind of want Binghe to rail me, I guess. But it’s manageable.” Liu Qingge’s hand on his forehead froze, and he was close enough that Shen Qingqiu could hear his breathing stop. He stared back expressionlessly, the mortification distantly crawling up the back of his neck. Honest One-Horned– The frustrated scream that he usually vented in his head, came out straight from mouth. “aaAAAAAHHHH GODDAMNIT AIRPLANE–”)

Keeping Secrets a.k.a HOT CULTIVATOR IMBIBES TRUTH POLLEN AND DIES (of mortification) (not clickbait) by cinnamonsnaps

"I bet you would beg," Shen Qingqiu said with a snort, letting his eye slide shut. The following silence was somehow remarkably loud. He cracked his eye open again. Luo Binghe was staring at him, face flushed red, hands frozen on Shen Qingqiu's ankle. "... shizun?" (Shen Qingqiu gets forced to tell the truth about a lot of things, unfortunately.)

Star Wars

All the Shadows We Bestow by ShyOwl (NOTE: While I love some dark SW content, I know a lot of people don't. This tone might put some people off)

Luke was born with a shadow over his soul. He was not simply the Chosen One, but a child of a prophecy who is doomed to soil the hearts of those who love him; a harbinger of a new Dark order and authority. He has done everything he can to keep people from becoming poisoned, to avoid his role as this blight, but there is no escaping destiny…and there is no escaping the love Luke has sparked in the galaxy. No matter how desperate or hard he tries.

Clone Wars

a soul that's born in cold and rain/knows sunlight by Killbothtwins

Part 2 of the massive machinery of hope

Obi-Wan Kenobi, time traveler, finds trouble once again when he and Qui-Gon are called to Mandalore— but not THAT Mandalore mission. This one involves still pretending to see the future, babies, a slavery ring, and bothering even more people into becoming his friend. As usual, Obi-Wan drags everyone else along for the ride, including some interesting allies.

[ghost-strawberry]

Art is a Window to the Soul

Fanfic for Phic Phight 2021. Prompt by Arioz: In his sophomore year Danny decides to take an art class as a required elective. His teacher is... concerned with some of his work.

"It's... something." Miss Davies gingerly picked up the sketchbook, turning it one way then the other, occasionally squinting her eyes. She carefully turned a page and her face flashed through a mixture of horrified shock, outraged fear and then settled on acute anxiety. The teacher placed the sketchbook down and lifted her gaze to meet Danny's. He squirmed internally under the stare. Glancing downwards he could see the artwork spilling from the open page, bright reds and greens in stark contrast to the dripping black. Danny could have kicked himself. Why did he hand this stuff in to his art teacher? He should have just kept it to himself. Or better yet, not made it at all.

 Danny didn't respond. He didn't know what he could say to explain himself. That these nightmarish visions were a reflection of his inner landscape? These violent scenes are something that happens to him almost everyday? Normal kids didn't paint things like this. They painted flowers, or self-portraits, or wind-swept landscapes.  His heart dropped further as he looked back towards her and saw her furrowed brow and worried expression. He knew she would tell him that he was deranged, that he needed psychiatric help, or that his mind didn't work right and shouldn't be bothering everyone else with the horrific images in his brain.  Danny waited, shuffling his feet on the tiled floor, wishing he could just turn invisible. Serval wild escape plans ran through his head, including transforming into Danny Phantom right there, knocking Miss Davies out, wrecking the sketchbook and hoping she would think it was all a dream. He stood patiently.  "Are you okay?" Her warm and friendly tone surprised him.  "Uh... what?"  "Are you doing alright?"  "I... Yeah, I'm fine." Danny looked away and picked at a loose thread hanging from his shirt. Miss Davies closed the book on her desk and sat down heavily on her seat, gesturing Danny to do the same. It was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He slowly took the seat opposite her. He ran through an imagined scenario where he over-shadowed her and made her think this was someone else's artwork.  "It's very good you know," she commented lightly, referencing the work as if she was talking about the balmy weather. "There's a lot of movement in it, very expressive, obviously. You're certainly skilled with a paintbrush Mr Fenton."  Danny opened his mouth and closed it again. Miss Davies continued, "but, you know, it does alarm me somewhat, the content of your work. There seems to be a strong narrative within the art, even through your abstract pieces, of pain... and brutality."  "I... I just saw that stuff in computer games," Danny stammered, desperately trying to come up with an explanation, "yeah I was thinking about... the struggles that people face across the world, the endless wars. I wanted to make something that... raises awareness about the problems that some people face."  Miss Davies made an affirming noise that didn't sound like she believed him. She slid the sketchbook across the desk towards him. Danny looked at it and made no move towards it. He wondered if his parents had ever made a device that wipes peoples memories.  Miss Davies spoke in a gentle voice, "I think it's really great that you feel able to express yourself like this. Creating is so important in how we process the things that have happened to us, the emotions that we experience. The topics that you have chosen to represent... they are very important for people to know about."  Suddenly Danny couldn't stand to look at her. Her sweet words were too much, her pity was almost unbearable. He stood up too quickly, grabbing his sketchbook so fast it was hard to see, causing her to jump.  "Sorry," Danny said, automatically in an emotionless tone.  "Daniel, please," she implored him, "is there something that you want me to know about? Is there something happening at home?" Her deep brown eyes were full of concern. She was young, for a teacher. Danny hadn't noticed before.  "Really, I'm fine Miss Davies. I'll try and paint, less graphically, from now on." Danny started towards the door. He kind of wished he could tell her the truth. How many times did he have to assure people he was fine?  "Don't ever censor yourself Mr Fenton," she said, her voice slightly raised now, but not unkindly, "you have a real talent for art. I think you should keep pursuing what you feel strongly about."  "Sure," Danny lied. He turned and walked out of the room.  "And don't destroy that sketchbook!" Miss Davies shouted after him. Danny sniggered with the irony; the book had already started smoke from his between his fingers. He cut off the flow of ecto-energy to his palms. Maybe he would throw it into the Ghost Zone and say that he lost it. He was sure Youngblood would get a kick out of it, if he came across it. Danny kept walking down the hallway. When Miss Davies thought Danny was out of listening range, she picked up a phone and dialed a number.  He heard her speak softly; "Mr Lancer, I want to arrange a meeting with Mr Fenton's parents."

[mona-stay]

Prompt - Sweetpea splits up with Josie but he's in love with y/n his long time FRIEND

Pairing Sweetpea x reader (riverdale)

Warning - none really, some angst and maybe worthless feelings

Story

 

Sweetpea had spent most of the night drinking as his relationship with Josie McCoy had ended; he knew it was just a summer fling, but it still hurt in a small way.

For a while Josie had been a distraction for Sweetpea, well every girl he'd dated was. Although he'd never admit it out loud, he was in love with someone else: someone who, in his eyes, was too good for him. She was beautiful, funny, smart, and knew Sweetpea better than anyone. Fangs included. So instead of showing his feelings, he hid them; having strings of one-night stands to block her out of his head and heart. Not one ever worked.

Now he found himself drunk, and once again, on the steps of y/n’s home not knowing what he was gonna say when she opened the door. 

"Looking for me?", her voice behind made him jump.

Turning to face her, he smiled seeing her lifting up a full bottle of vodka. 

"Wanna be my drinking partner?" he shouts; mentally kicking himself for sounding dumb. Why did he always look like a goof around her? He cursed to himself.

You smile back: "Sure", before finding your keys and opening the door. 

This wasn't unusual Sweets. often turned up drunk, looking for his favourite drinking partner. This never bothered you before. In fact, you loved being around Sweetpea, loved being the key word. However, it had been clear for years that he saw you as a friend; a good and close friend, but a friend all the same. There had been numerous times when Sweetpea would put an arm around your shoulders calling you his best friend.

You'd learnt to live with him calling you a best friend, to compartmentalise your feelings. For a while it worked. That was until his fling with Josie started. It hurt seeing them together, maybe because it was more than a one-night stand. Maybe he liked her more than he said.

Mid-way through the summer break you found yourself distancing yourself from Sweetpea and others in the group, taking on more shifts at the Wyrm.

"I thought you'd be home by now?" he asked, while getting glasses out of the cupboard. His pouring out two extra-large drinks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"I've been working the night shift this week. I took Hogeye for 100 in pool tonight". You laughed showing off your winnings, before putting them away.

Pea shook his head. "We really should team up in doubles", he joked, while taking a big swig from his glass.

"You know there would no one to give you a challenge if we did", you teased back. 

That was the thing: no matter your feelings, you both fell into friends mode, in spite of what was going on in your head.

"I'm a bit surprised to see you. I thought you and the Northside lot were camping?" you asked, sensing something was up, as he had drunk more than half of his glass before you had even started.

He rolled his eyes with a snarl across his lips. "Nar... Josie and I were over, so there's no point being there. Who cares? She was just a bit of fun". To anyone else, this would have sounded convincing, jerky even. Others would have bought the Playboy line, but you could see the hurt in his eyes; most likely the same look from which you spent years hiding.

"She's a fool. You deserve someone real, not some fake Northside diva!" you say, trying to sound supportive, yet not too happy with the news.

He finished the rest of his drink, one last massive mouthful. Squinting his eyes as the alcohol burnt his chest on its way down, he said: "couldn't agree more, but who cares? I'm over her".

He wasn't lying. He was over Josie in a way; annoyed at how she blew him off for sure. The emotional connection was gone.

The topic of Josie was dropped pretty much then. For the next few hours, the pair of you listened to music, having your usual debate over which bands were better. You told him about things at the Wyrm: how you'd started taking on the late shifts, helping Hogeye kick out the drunks who wouldn't leave really could be your new calling in life.

"I would have loved to have seen you chucking out Danny. 'Bet he was fuming... " he said, chuckling, while imagining you push a six feet long Serpent out the bar. "What else 'been happening?" he asked.

"Well, two new girls did their Serpent dance. I'm surprised you missed it", you said, knowing Pea never missed a dance, "Showing support", he'd say in defence. Heck, for your dance he was front row and centre. His intense stare kept you focused, staring back at him while you moved and danced.

He laughed, asking if any were fit, earning an eye-roll from you. He was more drunk than normal, possibly giving him both courage and an excuse for his next comment: "never mind newbies. When are you getting back on that pole?" he asked, with a cheeky wink.

You raised your brows at him but couldn't hide the shade of pink your cheeks started turning. "Coz' I work the bar", you answer, not sure from where his comment came.

He stood up, changing the music to a different song. "Well, you're wasted behind a bar. You're one of the best dancers I know" he said, seductively holding out his hand to you. Again, this was something Sweetpea wouldn't dare do prior, even when drunk. But right now he was using it to fuel his actions he'd denied himself for so long.

You took his hand, unsure what was going on his head. He clumsily tugged you, trying to dance. You almost fall over his giant feet, but he caught you in his arms. For the next hour or so the pair of you danced, laughed, and finished Sweet pea’s bottle of vodka, as well as almost one of your own. You were happy; it was just like old times, minus Fangs and Toni.

Sweetpea had spent the past hour building up the courage to make his move even though he didn't exactly know what that was yet. He poured the last of the alcohol into glasses, watching y/n shake her hips, arms over her head. He watched intently as she turned, showing him a full view of her ass. He bit his lips, watching her move as sway. He was holding on to what little restraint he had to not go over and grab it. He smiled as she turned to face him, her eyes were glassy and bright with a smile to match. The song changed, and to his delight it was a slower, sexier one.

He came over close, putting his hands on your hips, moving with your rhythm. Although he'd done this before, something this time felt different. Maybe it was the way he was staring in to your eyes, or the wolfish smirk, which looked  like he was planning something. Or maybe the way it all made you feel. Your heart pound against your chest, your breathing had quickened. Just like putty in his hands.

Sweetpea thought it was now or never. He lifted his hand to your chin, tilting it up as he bent down to capture your lips with his. They were soft, as you always imagined they would be. For a second, you kissed him back, enjoying the thing you had craved for years. His hand, still on your hip, tightened, pulling you closer to him. His kiss deepened when you grabbed his shirt.

You both pulled away. Your mind was hazy with a mix of thoughts running through it at the same time. A few seconds on your head felt like eternity. All your wants here in your hands, yet some rational voice in your head reminded you of his recent break up.

Was this all it was, Sweetpea getting over Josie? Were you his rebound? If so, how will it affect your friendship afterwards? You'd rather not destroy the connection you had, for one night of everything you ever dreamed.

Sweetpea smiled, happy, until he studied your shell-shocked face. He was unable to read whether you liked it or not. A bit worried he moved in for a second kiss, the moment his lips touched he could feel you pushing him away. He took a step, looking confused. "We shouldn't do this", you said, in a low voice.

You saw him tense up, his jaw clenched, as well as his fists. It was only the look in his eyes that showed the sadness he was feeling. "Why?" he asked, through gritted teeth. His tone wasn't angry like he looked.

You swallow hard, partly for not believing what you were saying, wanting to just run back and kiss him again. "You've just split with Josie. I don't want to be your rebound girl. There are enough Southside sluts you can use for that", you say, trying to sound kind in hopes that he'd see your point. "I care about you enough to not let us wreck our friendship like this", you add.

The F-word was like a knife to his chest. You said it, proving his original thoughts, You'd never love him like he loves you. He nodded, not sure what to say, nor trusting his voice not to crack. Turning to finish his drink, he mumbled a weak apology before getting his jacket to leave.

You told him not to leave as he opened the door, but he just gave you a half-smile before walking out. When the door shut, you collapse on the couch, silent tears run down your face as you cradle a cushion. Your heart was screaming, "what have you done?"; your head still trying to think if it was the right thing to do. You went to bed thinking out of all the times you imagined kissing Sweetpea, you'd never imagined it ending with you crying alone.

Sweetpea wasn't feeling much better. He walked out the trailer park, your words running in his head. "Why did I have to kiss her?", he asked himself aloud before punching a beat-up street sign. The first punch felt good, so he hit it again and again until his stamina started to wear. His knuckles were grazed and cut. He opened and closed his fingers, the pain now noticeable. Sinking to the floor, his head in his knees, he finally broke down.

You didn't leave your trailer all of Sunday, not wanting to face the world after the kiss went wrong. However, on Monday, you had to work. Working meant the possibility of running in to Sweetpea. You wanted to see him, but didn't know what to say after pushing him away. The thought of it made you cringe, still regretting your actions.

Outside you can hear the buzz coming from within the bar. Maybe work was a good idea. If it's busy, you won't have time to think. You walked though the door, the first person you saw was him. It didn't help Sweetpea being one of the tallest in there, standing at six-feet three inches. 

He saw you walk inside. Turning back to the pool table, he hit his ball with more force than necessary. He looked up seeing you head to the hatch near to bar, dumping your bag. The sounds of Toni's protest made him look back. "I don't know what's wrong with you today, but if you keep hitting balls like that, you're gonna crack one", she moaned.

He didn't answer her, just took his next shot; it was softer than the last, but the sound of the hit was anything but calm. To add more annoyance to his mood, Cheryl had to open her mouth: "Why's he throwing a fit after my girl, Josie, dumped his ass?", in a sassy remark.

Annoyed, he growled:  "I'm not throwing anything. It was a summer fling. Summer is over now. I couldn't care that it is over", he yells, unconvincingly. Right now he wasn't bothered what they all thought, as long as they didn't know the truth.

Fangs asked what happened but Sweetpea ignored the question, focusing on the game which he was in the middle of. When he didn't answer, Cheryl took delight in spilling the gossip to Fangs. He tried ignoring them but Cheryl's voice was hard to block out, especially when she said things like: "Josie was slumming it with him. A last bit of fun before New York", and "becoming a star, she had to drop the dead weight". With each comment his knuckles got tighter and tighter around his cue.

You walked over with a tray of drinks Toni had ordered. You asked Hogeye to take it, but he wouldn't. The closer you got, the more you heard Cheryl’s comments, basically saying that he wasn't good enough.

On the best of days you didn't like Cheryl; she's loud, obnoxious, and full of herself. You only tolerated her because of Toni's and Jughead's relationships with her, but right now you were struggling to keep your cool.

You could tell Sweetpea was struggling too, his face was like thunder, his knuckles as white as rocks. You wanted to go and tell him that it's okay, to ignore her, but the way he looked at you made you decide against it. You placed the tray down giving Pea a small smile, but he didn't return it. You wished it were because of Cheryl, but knew deep down it was a knock to your friendship.

"Well I have been telling her all summer that she's better off without him", you heard Cheryl say. That was it, you couldn't take any more of her slating him. You span around to face the venomous redhead. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" you snap.

She looked at you with her faux shook, "excuse moi?" she asked in her fake and bitchy way.

You stepped closer so she couldn't mistake you this time. "You heard me. How dare you come here making out he's not good enough." Your arm shot up, pointing at Sweetpea. "He's the nicest, funniest guy going. Your diva-slut mate wasn't slumming it, he's the realest guy that fake bitch will ever have. If you think she was, what does that say about you and MY girl?" This time you gesture towards Toni who was now walking back from the bathroom, unaware as to why her mate and girlfriend looked like they were about to come to blows.

Sweetpea watched you go off at Cheryl, a mix of happy and hurt, listening to you defend him. The argument in front of him faded as he was lost in his own trail of thoughts, only broken when he saw Cheryl slap y/n. That was after you had shoved her back, hard. He dropped his cue, but before it had even touched the floor, she punched Cheryl back.

Both girls attacked each other. Toni dragged Cheryl away, while Sweetpea took you out back to cool off, mainly because he was the only one strong enough to drag you out the bar and handle the kicks or hits that landed his way; something neither of you were a stranger to, what with the past bar fights and scraps.

 

You paced outside, a string of insults at Cheryl coming from your mouth. Sweetpea just watched you in silence, not knowing if he should walk back inside or not. He also wanted to know why you went off like that too. Yes, you'd had fights before, never having started one like that though. When you finally finished ranting, he asked "what was all that about?"

"What? She's vile, and after hearing her talk shit about you... like you're nothing, made my blood boil. Plus, it's about time someone gave her a nose job", you shout back, still angry from the small fight. "The bigger question is: why did you just stand there, and let her talk trash about you in your own place?", you ask, folding your arms.

He shrugged his shoulders in reply, "why bother? It's Blossom, she talks trash about everything; not something to get worked up over. Ignoring her hurts her more", he said, hoping you'd buy his excuse.

You didn't. You knew him better: the sly look to the side, the way he slid his hand down the back of his head. His signals. You took a step forward.

"Yeah that might be true, but there is something you're not saying", you point out.

He doesn't look at you, keeping his eyes to the ground he mumbles, "nothing". He goes to turn away back inside, when you grab his arm. He stopped, his body tense, still not turning back to look at you. So instead, you walked in front of him.

When he finally looked at you, the hurt was visible in his eyes; the same look he gave you when he left that night, the same eyes he had when you entered the bar, and when you first brought the drinks over.

"I've known you for as long as I can remember. I know something's wrong, and you'd normally tell me what's on your mind. Now please stop looking at me like I killed your dog", you plead.

"She's right", he says, whispering. Your brows crossed; you couldn't believe your ears. Was he really saying that he believed those things? "what do you mean?", you asked confused.

"Cheryl, that bitch. She's right about me: I'm not good enough! Tell me something that wasn't a lie! I am trailer trash, a worthless gang member; no real money or goals", he shouted back, releasing his pent-up anger he'd held in all night.

You pushed him hard. "Look. Josie thinks she's the next Beyoncé. You don't need a girl like that. You're more than ten times good enough for girls like Josie and Cheryl, for that matter. You deserve someone who see how incredible you are Pea, someone who will love you the way you are", you say, hoping he'd listen and believe you. You meant every word and wanted to show him.

He snorted and rolled his eyes at you. "I couldn't care about Josie; I never had any real feeling for her. She was something to take my mind off someone else. I wasn't good enough for too, so there's no point trying to make me feel better", he stated with a raised voice. By the time he said the first something his tone lowered and wavered.

You wanted to tell him you weren't lying. What you said was how you felt, how you wish you hadn't denied his kiss, and most importantly who the girl was. But none of that came out. The most your brain mustered was: "she's an idiot".

Sweetpea passed you. "Yes you are", he whispered to himself, not realising you'd heard it. You turned around so fast it could have given you whiplash.

"What did you say?", you asked.

Sweetpea froze. He didn't know what to say. He didn't think it could hurt anymore than being rejected, so he decided to tell you, and suffer now rather than let it drag on as it had.

"You! You rejected me. The one person I loved more than anyone. I could deal with being friends for so long, but no matter what, you would be on my mind. I knew you were too good for me, so I tried sleeping with other girls. I started a fling with Josie but none of them made me feel the way you do. I thought, well nothing else worked, so maybe just coming to tell you... but I couldn't see how, so I just kissed you. I was right, I you didn’t want me too.”

He didn't mean to say as much as he did, but once he started, it all just came out. He looked at you, when you didn't speak, seeing a smirk on your face, almost like you were holding in a laugh. "Oh, now you're gonna laugh at me. Reject then laugh"

You put a hand on his chest, shaking your head. "I'd never laugh at you and I'd never reject you because you're not good enough. I did it to protect my own feelings. I couldn't be a rebound. I love you too much for it to be a one-time thing", you say with a smile.

It took a second or two for your words to sink in. His eyes widened "did you just say...?" but never finished.

"I love you, yes" you say for him. "I always have, Pea, but never thought you liked me. Let's face it, I'm no Josie, nor the type you normally go for", you say, hearing how weird it came out.

He brought his face in close to yours, cupping your cheek in his hand. "No, you're better", he said before kissing you. When it ended, Sweetpea smiled. You looked up at him, seeing the joy. "If I do it again, you're not gonna say no this time", he joked.

You shook your head, leaning in for a second kiss, proving to him you would never reject or push him away again. This one was more passionate than the first. He held you close, one hand on your back, the other in your hair. You wrap yours around his neck, tugging on the hair your fingers reach.

When he felt the small pull, he deepened the kiss, his lips moved in sync faster and harder, but with a tenderness too. When he pulled away, you felt a little breathless. "Wanna get out of here?" you say, biting your lip to remember the feel of his.

"Thought you were working?" he asked; giving you a devilish smirk, knowing perfectly well neither of you were going back inside.

"Nar, we can feed Hogeye some line like I needed to calm down after that Blossom bitch. Hooking up with a sexy Serpent was just an added bonus", you giggle. You walked off towards his bike. He slipped his arm around your waist. He couldn't believe his dreams had come true. His only regret? That he'd not said anything sooner.

[blu-eh]

after school summons

[AO3] 

or: Danny gets summoned. He doesn’t like it.

It starts with a tugging feeling in his very core.

Danny Fenton pauses. If there’s one thing he’s learned in the last year, it is not to ignore random things that are definitely ghostly in origin. He has just enough time to place his pencil on the desk from where he had dutifully been doing his homework—for the first time in two weeks, mind you—before his vision goes white, he hears a snap, and suddenly he’s not in his room anymore.

For a moment he’s weightless, lost in the feeling of falling. Then, his body jerks and he has just enough time to think, oh fuck—before he’s slammed to the ground hard.  His knees buckle under the unexpected weight and he goes down, clumsily, and trying not to throw up what little he’d managed to eat between homework packets.

“Ow,” Danny says.

He lies there, just for a moment, taking in the cool concrete underneath him. He tries to steady his breathing just enough so his mind can process what the hell just happened in the last thirty seconds. He’s still blinking stars from his eyes when he hears the hushed whispers echo around him and a heavy pair of footsteps approaching him. All in all, very bad signs when mysterious (and somewhat painful) things happen to you suddenly.

A gruff, questioning voice asks, “A child?”

“Oh, man,” Danny says, because that definitely does not sound good. Then he forces himself to his knees and looks up.

The first and foremost thing Danny notices is that he’s not alone. He’s on some sort of altar or platform, elevated a foot or so above the ground. A couple feet away, a group of no more than a dozen people surround him in a semi-circle, faces all covered by tattered cloaks. Another cloaked figure, dressed in much more formal robes with gold trimming, stands on the platform a mere couple feet from where Danny is. They all seem to be staring at him, waiting.

Danny hastily gets to his feet. He shifts a little into a sloppy fighting stance, just in case things were to get messy.

The dimly-lit warehouse room and the head covers don’t give him much to work with in the facial feature department, but he’s pretty confident that none of them are ghosts. Mostly from the fact that none of them are glowing and/or ranting about how much of a pain in the ass he is, but it still pays to be wary. Especially when Danny’s situations tend to quickly dissolve from bad to oh my god there are ghosts lose in Amity Park and also he maybe-sort of-possibly died in the process.  

Which brings him back to his next brilliant deduction; he’s definitely in ghost form. He definitely was not in ghost form before this. His ghost form is rather obvious considering he sticks out like a glow stick in darkness of the warehouse. He doesn’t even feel the need to check his hair color, this time, but that’s more due to the fact that he doesn’t want to take his eyes off the weird people who managed to summon him from his bedroom and forced him to change into his ghost form.

(He desperately hopes that they hadn’t seen him change—weird warehouse people are not people that Danny generally associates with secret keeping.)

“Is this a cult thing?” Danny asks before any of them can speak. He takes in white line that surrounds him, and the red liquid (which he very much hopes is not blood) used to paint runes and symbols that circle him, and their weird cloak-like robes, and says, “This is definitely a cult thing. Oh my god, did you summon me? Seriously—”

Before this, he hadn't even known he could be summoned. It's just the little ghostly things learned via accident, sometimes, that truly take the icing on the cake.

There’s a tiny spark of anxiety in his gut, but honestly there’s a large difference between humans threatening him and ghosts threatening him. On one hand, he’d take weird cultist over Skulker’s lair any day. On the other hand, pure white walls and experimentation tables aren’t super high on his to visit list either. Worst comes to worst—before they sacrifice him to some ancient gods, more likely—he puts on his scary face (and maybe adds a couple of explosions) and slips out before they even notice he’s missing.

“Silence, creature,” the robed man snaps. Danny zeros in on him and immediately deduces him to be leader from vibes alone. Also the gold trimming on his robe, which very much screams leader of weird cult that summons ghost kids.

“I—okay, you know what? That was just rude,” Danny says. He points to the white line that surrounds him, “Is that cocaine?”

Danny has a feeling he doesn’t want to know the answer to the mysterious red liquid and painted symbols, so he doesn’t ask.

“It’s salt,” one of the other cloaked figures answers, like it should be obvious.

(It’s not actually obvious, and actually leaves Danny with more questions than he started with. Mostly in the realm of how did a group of cultists summon him with salt. He knows salt is supposedly an anti-ghost measure, but Danny is pretty convinced it has little to no effect on him considering the amount of Nasty Burger fries he’s consumed haven’t taken him out yet.)

“Salt,” Danny repeats. He pauses, then awkwardly tags on, “That’s good, I guess, because drugs are bad. Uh, don’t do drugs.”

A cultist quietly, and a little slowly, answers back, “We, uh, don’t.”

“Right,” Danny says. His eyes catch another section of weird in this already weird, cultist warehouse. At the base of the platform sits a variety of bones, so fresh that some of the muscle still clings to them. “Are those bones? Oh my god, did you sacrifice someone? That’s not cool! Murder isn’t cool!”

“Those are goat bones,” another follower says.

“Oh,” Danny says. “Well, I mean, that’s still fucked up on a variety of levels, but I guess that’s better than murder. Unless it's considered goat murder? Uh.”

For a second, there’s silence. The nature of the interaction is so awkward and oppressing that he almost goes invisible just to save himself the scrutiny of these random people and get the hell out of dodge. His curiosity is the only thing that holds him back—that, and the fact that he’s not quite sure if any of these people are secretly hiding ecto-weapons.

Danny very much does not want to be shot tonight.

He looks around the room, eyes taking in every inch of the sparsely decorated warehouse. There’s nothing that immediately grabs his attention, nor anything that really screams danger but it pays to be suspicious of his surroundings in his line of work. A few of the cultists notice this, and start shifting awkwardly as Danny looks over them as well.

Then, Danny’s eyes flicks back to the lead cultist and he says, “I’m going to be real honest here and say that I have no idea what the heck is going on.”

The leader makes no inclination that he acknowledges any word that comes from Danny’s mouth. Instead, he brings an old, wrinkled hand up to his face, like he’s thinking about some complex problem. The leader circles Danny once, then again, and Danny feels something inside him defensively coil like a spring.

He tries not to be bothered when people treat him as something lesser—it’s not, exactly, uncommon for him to encounter. He dealt with being shoved into lockers long before he died, anyways. It doesn’t stop his shoulders from tensing just the barest amount.

Instead of showing this, he brings his feet up to his chest and crosses them mid-air, and fakes a yawn for good measure. A few of the other cultists gasp in wonder and fear. The leader simply stops his prowling and turns to face Danny.

“So this is the fabled Ghost King,” the man says, like he expected better.

Danny feels he should almost be offended if it isn’t for the tiny detail that these cultists—who summoned him by using salt and goat bones—assume he is the ghost king. “…Did you seriously confuse me with Pariah Dark?”

The man pauses, and asks, “Pariah Dark?”

“Yes! He’s like fifteen feet tall, has a huge sword, is a pain in the ass, and has, like, an entire ghost army. I have, I dunno, pre-calc homework in my bag. We are not the same.”

Some of the followers in the background shift uneasily. Danny bares his teeth in their direction, just to see them squirm. A couple take worried steps back and Danny fights off a satisfied grin.

Hey, poke a bull and get the horns. In this case, summon a ghost-teenager and get the ecto-powers.

(He’s slowly becoming more and more aware that these people have no idea what they’re doing.)

“I see,” the leader says. From his tone, he definitely does not see. “It doesn’t matter. Our book summoned the King of Ghosts and that is you, so you will do as we tell you and your pain will be lessened.”

“I am still not the Ghost King,” Danny tells him. “And no thanks. I’ve already used my yearly cult sign up and I can’t say I’m thrilled to join another. If you’re going to hold an initiation ceremony, at least decorate a bit first. Uh, not counting the goat bones and salt, of course.”

“You have no choice,” the leader snaps and steps a bit closer to him. Danny merely raises an eyebrow. “We are the Followers of Infernal. We have summoned you to serve us. You are bound to our will and bound to our grace, as the book foretold. Now bow, demon, for we are your new masters.”

There’s a very large portion of Danny Fenton that is convinced any good karma he held in life did not pass with him during his death a mere year ago. An even larger portion of him is convinced that these guys are no more serious than the GIW is. Danny does not tell the cultists this.

Instead, he squints and says, “Alright. I definitely failed US Government, but I’m pretty sure that’s not legal. Don’t you guys need like, a permit to summon undead beings of mass power?”

“It thinks it’s funny.” The leader’s face is mostly hidden by his robe, but Danny can imagine the sneer there from his tone alone.

“Trust me, I’m not the one who’s a joke right now,” Danny says. He looks back over at the dozen or so followers and grins at them. They don’t seem too keen that he’s not following their master’s orders and bending to their will. He turns back to the leader. “What’s in it for me?”

“What?”

“If I follow you and stuff, what’s in it for me?”

The leader pauses, then says, “You will be spared of punishment.”

“Hmm, that’s not good enough,” Danny says. He angles his body so he's once again looking at the followers and points at one in the middle. “Hey, you! With the cloak. No, not you, the other dude. To the left. Yeah! You. What do you have to offer me?”

The follower looks so startled that he cowers for a second. Then, seeing as he hadn’t been reduced to a pile of ashes from Danny’s gaze alone, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small and silver. “Uh, I have a paper clip, your ghostliness.”

“A paper clip,” Danny repeats. “Yeah, sure, fine. Whatever. That sounds neat.”

“You’ll submit to us?” the man sounds so hopeful that Danny almost feels bad for being a jerk. Then, he remembers that they summoned him out of his nice, warm bedroom at ass-o’clock in the night and feels significantly less amounts of pity.

“No, dude, I’m not being your sack of potatoes for a paper clip. Man, you guys are stupid.” Danny rolls his eyes and floats just a bit higher. The other followers shuffle around again, uncomfortable. In front of him, the leader remains impassive as ever. “Where even am I?”

“The lair which you will spend the rest of your afterlife,” the leader says.

“Okay, this is definitely a warehouse, firstly. And secondly, dude, I meant what state.”

“…Wisconsin,” the man allows because of course everything terrible happens in Wisconsin.

“You chose the worst state to have your crappy lair,” Danny tells them. Now he has to fly a couple hundred miles home and hope he gets there by morning, all the while avoiding his creepy, obsessed arch-nemesis. He wonders if Vlad is even aware there’s a ghost-obsessed cult in his home state. Probably not. “Nothing good ever comes from Wisconsin. You can take that as, like, ghostly wisdom or something.”

“Hey,” one of the cultists says, offended. “The Packers are in Wisconsin.”

“Nothing good,” Danny repeats, firmly.

“Enough of this nonsense,” the leader says. “It’s trying to distract you because it fears control. Briar, bring me the orb.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them says.

The followers mutter to themselves and teeter around in their positions. The woman who spoke, on the end, bows and scurries off. Danny watches as she runs through the darkness of the warehouse, footsteps echoing around them, until he can no longer see her among the darkness.  

“Hey, if they already listen to you then why do you need me?” Danny asks. The leader doesn’t answer, so Danny floats a bit on his side and puts his arms behind his head. “What kind of orb are we talking about, anyways? Like one of those Spirit Halloween ones? Or is it more like orbeeze? I can’t saw I’m super excited from your ominous it fears control statement, but—"

“Silence, beast,” the leader says.

Danny huffs. “I’m just asking. No need to be so snippy.”  

The man ignores him which, rude. Danny’s just about to see how far he can test this guy’s patience when Briar comes back, just as quickly as she had disappeared. She jogs through the warehouse and up the steps of the platform. Danny can’t see her face, but from the way her hood moves to glace at him every so often, he figures that she’s probably nervous. Specifically about him lounging around in a circle full of salt.

“Father Johnathan,” Briar says and bows. In her hands is a glowing, silver orb. It really did look like a generic orb one would find in a Spirit Halloween. “The orb.”

“Your name is Father Johnathan?” Danny asks. He eyes the orb for a second, but doesn’t feel the tingle of ghostly energy from it, so he ignores it. He turns right back to the leader, not able to keep the grin off his face. “Your name is really Father Johnathan?”

Father Johnathan gently takes the orb in his hands as Briar scurries off towards the rest of the followers. Then, he sighs and says, “Yes, creature, my name is Father Johnathan and I shall be your new master.”

“Oh my god,” Danny says, positively gleeful. “I meet real life Papa John and he summons me with salt and threatens me with a Spirit Halloween orb.”

“Laugh all you want,” Papa John says. The nervous air shifts into something a bit more predatory. “You will not be laughing much longer.”

The cultists break into applause and talk amongst themselves loudly. They shift forward, eagerly, as if they want to watch the spectacle up close. They’re only a foot or so away from the platform when Papa John waves at them to halt.

Papa John holds up the orb. It swirls, the silver fog inside consolidating and then dissipating. Something inside it starts to glow the barest amount.

Danny pauses, just for a second, and watches it. There's still no tingle of ghostly energy coming from it. If he hadn’t already thought these guys are a joke, he definitely would’ve been a tad more nervous. As it stands, he thinks nothing of it—no ghostly energy means no control over ghosts.

(Unfortunately, he knows the feeling of ghost-controlling objects quite well. It’s not an experience he’s eager to repeat.)

The orb glows brighter, and brighter, swirling more furiously. The chatter of the cultists picks up to the point where they’re almost shouting, jeering at him. Papa John draws closer and closer, orb outstretched. He holds it through the salt line and touches it to Danny’s chest. The shouting from his followers almost becomes unbearable.

And then….nothing. The orb stops glowing. The fog inside stops swirling. It simply dies in Papa John’s hand.

“Was that supposed to do something?” Danny asks.

Papa John touches him with the orb again, a tad more forceful, so Danny assumes it was supposed to do something. From the panicked whispers around him, it definitely was supposed to do something to him. Danny’s honestly not sure if the outcome is due to him being a halfa or these guys being a joke.

(He’s willing to bet it’s the latter.)

“I think your LED batteries died,” Danny tells him. “Or maybe you mixed up your Spirit Halloween orbs. Better luck next time.”

Papa John stops furiously pressing the orb to his chest and if Danny could see his face, he has no doubts that Papa John’s expression would be livid.

“You will obey us,” Papa John says.

“No,” Danny says. “I won’t.”

“You will—”

Danny swings his feet down so hard that he cracks the very ground he now stands on. Dust kicks up around him as he stands tall, even though Danny’s at least two feet shorter than the leader in front of him. His eyes burn a brilliant green and he crosses his hands over his chest in an effort to look intimidating. The cult thing is interesting and all, but it's late, he still has homework to do, and Jazz has definitely noticed him missing by now so it's probably better to end this before they can get another object from a Spirit Halloween and try that instead.

It works, if the half-step back from Papa John is anything to go by.

“Listen,” Danny says, flatly. “Get a hobby and leave me alone or else you won’t like what I’m going to do.”

He makes his form flicker and the temperature drop in the room, just for dramatic effect.

Some of the followers in the background shift uneasily. A couple take panicked steps back. More than a few look ready to bolt for the door and leave this cult business behind forever.

Danny takes notice and stares at them, smiling wide enough that they could see his slightly-toothy grin. He makes sure his eyes flare, just a touch, and says loudly, “Boo.”

To say the cultists are startled would be an understatement. More than a few stumble back, a couple falling onto their asses. One trips on their robe and is sent tumbling. Another one yells and cowers. Papa John has no time to reign in the situation before two scatter completely.

“Peace!” Papa John shouts over the chaos of a dozen panicking followers. Those that remain do settle down enough to hear his words. “Stand down, there is nothing to fear. It is only trying to scare you into letting it free. It is trapped whilst it remains in the circle.”

Danny snorts. “I can leave any time I want.”

“You cannot leave here, demon—”

Danny raises one single eyebrow and dutifully steps out of the summoning circle.

The warehouse erupts into chaos.

The cultists are yelling now, but this time there’s only because of fear. They scatter over each other, running and tripping over their obnoxiously long cloaks. A couple trample the goat bones to the point where several loud snaps are heard over the pandemonium. It only adds more fuel to the fire as less than a dozen people scramble to get as far away from the platform—and subsequently the ghost-kid—as possible.

“Do better than a paperclip, next time!” Danny calls out to them. They only seem to run faster at the sound of his voice.

Papa John is the only one who doesn’t run. He had stumbled off the platform and away from Danny the second that Danny made it over the salt line. However, in the disarray, he had been knocked to the ground, his orb lay broken at his feet, and his robe’s hood had been yanked off and left on the ground beside him. He sits, frozen, but Danny doesn’t know if it’s from shock or from fear.

Danny takes a step closer to him.

“How…?” Papa John whispers. He’s not looking at Danny—only his old, wrinkled hands. He’s bald, with brown eyes. He looks like nothing more than any generic old man that Danny would see at a grocery store on Sunday afternoon. “We followed the book. We…we took every precaution the book said. We were supposed to have the perfect slave, bound to our every word. We…”

“That didn’t work out too well for you, huh?” Danny says and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s ‘cause you forgot the dunce cap when you decided to be the class clown.”

“Please,” Papa John says. “Spare me.”

There’s something wrong about this—seeing a human beg for his life at Danny’s feet. Danny doesn’t want to be feared. He never has wanted to be feared.

He presses his lips together and takes a single step back. Some part of him, though, knows that he desperately needs to make his point clear to avoid another situation like this (likely with more weapons, next time).

“I warned you,” Danny says softly. His voice echoes around the warehouse. The man below him shivers in terror. “Do not summon me again, or I won’t be so nice next time.” He pauses, just for a second and can't help but tag on, "Papa John."

He lets his threat linger and hopes the man takes it seriously enough that he won’t get summoned again. Then, the cool strings of invisibility wrap around his body and he disappears from sight. Danny takes one look at the man left on the floor before he shakes his head and shoots up into the Wisconsin night sky. He doesn't hear the shouted response of it's Father Johnathan from several hundred feet below him on the warehouse floor.

Danny waits about all of thirty seconds before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

"Jazz? Hey, yeah, I'm fine. Yes, seriously, I'm fine but you are not going to believe what I just went through—"

[phantomphangphucker]

Wild Masters - Chap. 5: From Rags To Riches

Vlad shows his face, queue a lot of snark and an exasperated Flynn.

Danny turns to the lab stairway, “I’ll get it”, glancing at everyone as he starts heading up, “I’ll holler if it’s Vladdie!”. His dad gives an excited double thumbs up.

Sticking his head around the kitchen entryway into the living room confirms that it is indeed Vlad, in his pompous ass suit and now staring at him looking extremely supremely unimpressed. Danny snickers at him before walking into the living room proper, sticking his hands in his pockets, “sup, vampy. Come to see your brat? He’s twenty-four by the way so don’t bother trying to groom him into your prime villain protege or anything. Also-”, snicker, “-he doesn’t how to read, so there’s that”.

Vlad glares, “you must be joking”. Making Danny snort, “I fucking wish actually, he doesn’t know what a cellphone is. What twenty-something doesn’t know fucking cellphones? He’s probably never seen a meme before. The horror”. Vlad rolls his eyes as he steps in, “yes, that is certainly the biggest issue with that problem. I’m sure”.

Danny gives a very cheeky, “yup”, before turning his head to shout towards the lab door, “HEY YO FLYNN! IT’S VLADDIE! GET UP AND GREET YOUR POMPOUS-PAPPIE”. Turning to look back to Vlad, who has decided to grace him with a flash of his red ‘scary eyes’. Oh how rare and bless-ed he must be today to get a glimpse of those ruby reds. Note: he was being sarcastic as fuck there, green eyes are way better anyway. So there.

Flynn steps only halfway out from the doorway, leaving half of himself hidden but making his staff absolutely fully visible and just stares at Vlad. It’s actually vaguely creepy.

Vlad stares back.

And Danny just looks rapidly back and forth between them. “Whelp, this is just a touch awkward”.

Flynn huffs and continues staring.

Danny pulls out his phone and waves it around, “these things come with a timer, you know. So I can totally just start that up and you two can make this dick measuring contest genuine”, pointing at both of them, “or we can talk like good little adults”. Flynn glances at him, “shorty”; making Vlad smirk at Danny’s expense. Danny frowns in fake offence, “hey”. But at least that gets Vlad to tug on his suit jacket to straighten it and step forward to actually greet Flynn, so hey, it’s something.

Sure Vlad’s form of ‘greeting’ is looking the half of Flynn that he can actually see over and giving a snide, “well at least you’ve got some build on you”. Which Danny rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over, “wow, way to be a dick, frootloop”. Vlad side-eyes him, “I’m still debating your demise”. Danny throws back a very apathetic and unaffected, “mmm okay”. Resulting in him having to dodge a very half-hearted swipe from the man and bounce out of Vlad's easy arm reach, “gotta be quicker on your toes, old man”, smirking, “what? that old age catchin’ up to ya?”, vaguely dancing over to Flynn and grabbing his Minotaur shawl thing, yanking him fully into the kitchen, “and get fully in here you, and face your maker”.

Flynn glares and huffs at him. Expected. Half the sounds the guy makes seem to involve either huffing or grunting. Wonderful sign of some serious lack of socialisation right there. Vlad’s rich asshole circles are going to love him so fucking much. Just like how they love Danny. Once again, note the generous helping of sarcasm he is mentally pilling on there.

Turning to look at Vlad and holding out the photo of alternate Vlad with alternate Maddie, “anyway, proof ‘cause I know you just love that stick that you’ve shoved so far up your ass you might as well be a popsicle”. Vlad leans forward, inspecting, and blinks vaguely disbelievingly. Danny rolls his eyes at the man not touching the photo, “let me guess, this has been in my pocket and is thus too dirty for you to sully your hands with?”. Vlad nods at him quickly with a smug smirk before straightening back up, “though the atrocity that I’m wearing in that deserves to be surrounded by the filth that fills your pockets”.

Flynn blinks, “yah, yer rivals. Tho figured ya’d be evenly matched”, looking to Danny -though Danny’s pretty sure this guy is trying to just play off the whole ‘meeting my dad for the first time in fourteen years and instead of being a dad the guy shit talks my half-brother’- Flynn points at Vlad while speaking at Danny, “ya could end ‘im. Don’ end my pa tho”.

Danny sputters and bends over wheezing while Vlad looks offended, “hear that vampy?!? He’s saying you’re weak!”.

Flynn instantly jumps to his defence, “‘s not that he’s weak. Ya’re jus... excessive”. Making Danny snicker, “can’t argue that”, because yeah Danny knows he’s over-fucking-powered. That’s kinda what happens when you’re the literal King of the entire Realm of the dead and all the ghosts therein. Regardless Danny keeps laughing and slaps his knee repeatedly. Which Vlad scoffs at, “get ahold of yourself, my boy”.

Danny can hear the raised eyebrow in Flynn’s voice, “‘my boy’?”. Danny looks up as Vlad huffs at Flynn, “yes I guess it would be rather rude of me to be calling Daniel that with you here”. Danny snorts, “like you care about rude, Mr. Plots Others Demise Directly In Front Of Their Faces”. Vlad waves a dismissive hand at Danny, “their intellect and worth is beneath me to care. Family has at least earned some level of attention from me. You should know that by now”.

“Still not your son”.

Flynn grunts, “an I am. Ya might be ‘ore stuck up than my ya”, then Flynn smirks and Danny has a feeling the guy is gonna say something that’ll piss Vlad off, “makes sense wit name like Plasmius”. Oh yeah, Vlad’s gonna be mad.

Vlad snaps his angry red eyes on Danny, sounding more than just slightly violently angry, “you told him”. Danny just bends over further and wheezes. Flynn pokes Vlad’s chest aggressively with the tip of his staff, “back back, no fightin’ in food room place”. Danny just wheezes more at that, “Ancients, it’s called a kitchen, man. Oh Zone”. Flynn grunts, glares, and removes his staff from Vlad’s chest to smack Danny over the head with it. “Ow”. Sure that didn’t actually hurt but it’s the point of the matter.

He can hear Flynn’s scowl, while the guy looks back to Vlad, “an ‘sides, I’d know what ya are any way”, gesturing the staff tip around Vlad’s body while Vlad quirks an eyebrow at him, clearly more curious about Flynn than pissed at Danny. “Can sense it ‘round ya an smell it on ya’s clothes. Yain’t all human. ‘Ore human than tha red one wit her suit on tho”.

Danny straightens up and brushes off his pants, snickering, “yeah he knows about Valerie too, surprise knowledge. Did you not notice his glowing green ass eyes?”. Watching Vlad squint and hum at Flynn, who just sits and lets Vlad stare at and analyse his eyes, “hmmm so you can see my ecto-field then?”. Flynn shrugs, “‘ore er less”. Danny chuckles, “you could say that that ‘bout sums it up”. Flynn looks to him and squints, “not addin’ anythin’”. Making Danny facepalm, “it’s another saying, man”. And Vlad actually has to turn to the side and sigh into his hand, it looks like the man is having a very hard time not insulting Flynn repeatedly and in ever-increasingly deeming ways; huh, guess he was willing to actually try to not be a complete and utter dick to his own son. That earns him a few points in the ‘not the definition of evil’ category.

Vlad looks back after a steadying breath, “be that as it may, I’d rather you not divulge my ghostly status to anyone. Flynn was it?”. Flynn squints, “that’s my name, ya”, looking to the side and huffing, though not letting Vlad out of his sights, “an I won’”, looking fully back to Vlad and sighing before just slowly poking the man with a finger. Both Danny and Vlad elect to merely watch and see what this previously non-existent Zone nomad will do next; Danny’s just glad his folks stayed downstairs or this entire meeting would be a bajillion times awkwarder. Danny wouldn’t be able to make such blatant jabs at Vlad, Flynn wouldn’t be able to discuss anyone’s ghostliness, Vlad wouldn’t be able to even be in the ballpark of honest.

Flynn pokes Vlad again, muttering, “yer real”. Alright, okay, the whole ‘here’s your father’ thing might have just hit the guy properly now. Vlad tilts his head ever so slightly, “indeed”; and Danny suddenly feels like he’s intruding on a very personal and private moment or something.

This is too much for Danny. Danny shoots both his arms out to the side and smacks both of the men on the back to smush them together, “ugh! Just hug already goddamnit!”. Both Vlad and Flynn sputter and cough, screwing up their faces; but they immediately separate and effectively turn their backs on each other.

“Don’ do ‘hugs’”.

“Neither do I for that matter”.

Danny practically growls, “oh for fucks sake”, and just telekinetically maneuvers them into forcibly embracing each other: which predictably and obviously gets him a pink ecto-beam straight to the face hard enough to send him crashing out the kitchen window immediately after he cuts it out. Flynn also pelts him with a rock, but that’s not exactly something that would cause Danny any notable kind of damage; though he is kinda curious where the rock came from.

At least they fucking hugged. Mission accomplished.

He can hear Vlad huff, “anyway. Now that Daniel’s finished being his insufferable self, I imagine you rather need legal documents. Since I doubt you exist in the legal system”. Flynn just huffs so Vlad continues, “right then”. Danny can’t help snickering to himself as he lies in a pile of rubble and some bushes when Vlad speaks up again actually sounding ever so slightly befuddled, “it would seem you already do”.

Flynn sounds slightly more befuddled, “what”. So Danny takes that as his queue to crawl back in through the shattered window, “oh yeah, blame Tuck. Dude probably preempted what I would have eventually asked him to do and just did it before I asked him to”, grinning smugly at the two men, “yeah my friends are awesome like that”, looking to Vlad specifically, “sure is nice to have genuine friends, eh Vladdie?”; Vlad points at him with a scowl and shoots a small ecto-beam. Danny doesn’t bother blocking or even moving and just lets himself get knocked back into the rubble/bush.

Flynn blinks, “... Red girl was ‘ight, do ya know tha word ‘dodge’ at all, shorty”. Vlad makes a sound that is almost a laugh.

“Hey”. Flynn shakes his head and Vlad smirks as Danny scramble crawls back in through the window, “I will have you know-”, grunt, “-I took that hit for comical effect”, landing on the floor with a not so graceful ‘oof’ before righting himself to be cross-legged and looking up at the two men, “and if anything is gonna get me hurt then it better be my terrible sense of comedy”.

Vlad rolls his eyes, “at least you know it’s terrible and unpleasant”. Danny points at him, “my name’s a literal pun, of course it’s terrible. Not unpleasant though. Also-”, holding up a finger and grabbing out his phone to quickly scroll through it, “-and yup! Tuck hacked the gov! Man my main man really should scare the government more or at least enough for them to properly put him on a watch list or two, geez”.

Flynn blinks, “ya lost me”, while Danny pockets his phone. Vlad also blinks. Okay wow there are similarities here and it’s kinda freaking Danny just a tiny bit, it’s creepy alright. Vlad shakes his head at Danny, “you can let your tech boy know that for once he has impressed me”. Danny grins slightly manically, whips out his phone, goes to the voice memos app, and holds it up ready to record, “care to repeat that?”, grin never faltering. Vlad sighs into his hand, sounding truly and exaggeratedly pained, “Tucker, you have impressed me”. Danny cheers, “yes!”, quietly to himself while double fist-pumping.

Flynn shakes his head and mutters, “ghosts”. Probably deciding that this behaviour is very befitting of ghosts, which yeah is probably true. Least Flynn just seems amused by it rather than annoyed like Danny’s folks would be. Vlad seems to agree as he sighs and side-eyes Flynn, “at least you seem unbothered by our more... ghostly behaviours, most humans get put-off just enough to make them rather unsuitable for any kind of close relations”.

That gets Danny to inhumanly quickly jump to his feet, startling Flynn enough to get that staff pointed at him as he near shouts excitedly, “did you just admit you can’t make friends!”, pointing animatedly at Vlad, “I’ve spotted character development!”. Vlad just glares at him, which is fair, while Flynn relaxes his stance. Danny sticks his hands back in his pockets and relaxes against the countertop, “anyway, since you’ve apparently given Flynn here your fatherly approval -congrats on the kid by the way, what should I bring to the baby shower?- you gonna stick him as your heir instead me now. Pretty please?”, and gives an overly innocent smile.

Vlad sighs, “I’m going to murder you”, and shakes his head, “you’re the High King, of course not, I’ve certainly got to keep you in my relations somehow”, grinning smugly, “I can certainly have two heirs. I don’t see why not. Try as I might, you know how I am quite a greedy man”. Danny snorts because that’s bullshit, Vlad absolutely doesn’t try to not be greedy; but well... when possession is your Obsession... Danny chuckles, “and try as I might, I just can’t keep that hero complex down. Guess I’ve just gotta keep an eye on your dealings with Flynn here, huh old man?”. After all, when protection is your Obsession...

Flynn promptly smacks both of them with his staff, “Obsession posturin’”. Danny rubs his head and grumbles incoherently. Vlad acts like nothing happened, instead insulting Danny’s behaviour, “well don’t you sound kingly”. Danny flips him off. Vlad looks to Flynn, ignoring Danny entirely, “regardless, you’ll definitely be my heir too. Whether you want to be or not”.

Danny snorts, “I don’t think you need to threaten the guy to be your son, vampy, geez. Would it kill ya to be nice?”. Vlad grins, “yes”; which Danny rolls his eyes at. Flynn huffs and shakes his head, “heir’s some money thing, he’s my pa not money loan”. Danny blinks, surprised the guy knows what a money loan even is. Chuckling, “eh heir’s kinda the best you get from old Vladdie here”, and jabs a thumb at Vlad.

Vlad scowls, “that is because you keep snubbing me and refusing to renounce your fool of a father, Daniel”, side-eyeing Flynn, “Flynn doesn’t seem to have that particular issue”, and then gives Flynn a truly stiff and awkward head pat. Flynn looks like he’s judging him heavily for that, “I’m stayin’ ‘ere. I don’ trust ya”. Danny coughs and laughs while Vlad jerks and looks like he just got stabbed clear through the heart and Core. Ouch Vladdie, looks like someone got snubbed again. Tough luck, try not being evil next time. Or maybe it was the awkward head pat that did it?

All three flinch or jump at Jack’s sudden excited, “yes!”, while popping out from the lab doorway, practically shoving Vlad out of the kitchen, and very quickly side-hugging Flynn who very obviously stiffens and shrinks away from the contact. Oh shit, how long have his folks been there?!? Fuck. His mom also giggles from the doorway and walks in giving Flynn a sweet smile while pulling Jack off him, “as we said, there’s definitely room for you here”. Flynn just nods slightly while slowly relaxing as Maddie pushes Jack out of the room to go clean the spare room upstairs with her. Danny, meanwhile, is busy side-eyeing Vlad as the man borderline flat-out snarls at Jack’s receding form.

Flynn stares at Vlad himself, muttering lowly at Danny, “he hates ‘im. He really really hates ‘im”. Danny sighs and watches the deep violent hatred shining in Vlad’s eyes, “yeah, yeah he really does”, frowning and probably sounding sadder than he really means to, “I wish that wasn’t how things were. Everything would be a lot different”; because really? If Vlad didn’t despise his father, the two only natural halfas in existence would probably get along. Maybe be genuine family or healthy rivals even. Instead of the weird toxic degrading bantering archenemy thing they’ve got going on and have been actively -and mutually, if he’s being honest with himself- fuelling. Maybe, maybe, that mentor/apprentice situation, that Vlad dreamed of and Danny had needed, could have became reality; but that ship has long since past. In Danny’s more introspective and thoughtful moments, he mourned that fact. Part of him hoped Vlad acknowledged and mourned that fact too, instead of just feeling bitter and ripped off. Maybe. Hopefully.

Flynn frowns at him, “yer ghosts an yer humans. Act like it”. Danny blinks at him, “uh, I don’t think you exactly know how humans act. No offence”. Flynn huffs at him, “am one, know ‘nough”.

“Uh, I’m not gonna agree with you on that one”, glaring slightly and whispering, “also, sssshhhh about the ghost shit, man”. Flynn rolls his eyes and promptly catches Danny off-guard, “an I’m keepin’ tha Masters name”. Danny chokes slightly, well damn; Vlad’s gonna get an ego boost from that.

Vlad, having of course heard -damn you ghost ears- snaps his head around and grins triumphantly at Danny then approvingly at Flynn. “Flynn Masters”, grinning smugly at Danny again, “might just have a better ring than Daniel Masters”.

Danny snorts and rolls his eyes, “if you’re trying to make me jealous it ain’t gonna work”, snickering, “but FM, like FM radio”. Now Danny’s wearing the smug look while Vlad glares at him. Danny finger guns at Vlad as he starts walking towards the steps, “now how about I let the Masters caspers not have to be actors due to me being one of the present factors while y’all deal with your family matters”, saluting, “so seeya later gangsters”. Vlad’s left eye twitches, “I will murder you, boy”.

Flynn blinks and looks to Vlad, “he always like this?”. Vlad sighs and nods, “unfortunately”, shaking his head, “he certainly has a taste for puns and word games, I think it’s born from some form of a sadistic side”. Flynn huffs, “dramatic”, huffing again, “an I need a drink aftar all yer ghostin’, pa”, and uncaps his liquor bottle for a swig. Earning raised eyebrows from Vlad and the same lean over sniff that Danny did, “ahh, you’re a fan of alcohol”.

“Make mine own”.

Vlad nods approvingly, “I've dabbled in the art of wine making myself in my spare time”. Flynn offers his drink earning him a quirked eyebrow from Vlad, who of course tries some. Leaving him humming to himself and tapping his chin, “you’ve been at this for a while. You might be a son of mine yet”.

Flynn huffs, “‘ere I thought we ‘ready established that. Yer my pa. Pas that”. They were, in fact, already past that. Vlad just rolls his eyes but pulls a flask out of his pocket and offers it to the guy, “here. Since you’re a Masters, you drink whiskey like a Masters”. And Flynn talking a swig from that is what Danny walks back downstairs to, “so what y’all talking about?”.

Vlad turns to him, “just how you were going to apologise for your years of abuse to me all in the name of brotherly love”.

“That doesn’t sound like me at all”. Danny then blinks at them, with Flynn lowering the flask and shrugging at. Danny throws a slight glare at Vlad, “really? I leave for what? ten minutes? and you start boozing the guy up? Really?”, muttering more so to himself, “I mean sure, Flynn started drinking after ten minutes, or whatever, of meeting me. But still”. Vlad smirks some, “yes, being around you for any prolonged period of time could drive anyone to drink. Why, the first thing I did after meeting you was drink”.

“That’s because dad assaulted your prized football, you going senile on me?”.

Flynn glares at Danny and takes another swig of the whiskey flask, which Vlad looks oddly triumphant over; especially considering Danny just insulted him. Flynn shrugs again and side-eyes Vlad, “eh, mine’s bettar”. Vlad waves him off, “you just don’t have a taste for it yet”, tapping his chin, “though yes, yours is quite good”.

Danny blinks, “did the Vlad Masters just genuinely compliment someone without it being backhanded or a thinly veiled threat? Shocked! Betrayed! Dismayed! The horror!”, tilting his head, wait a fucking minute, “wait, did you drink Flynn’s stuff? You know that’s ectoplasm in there, right?”. Flynn grunts, “well he does now”. Vlad blinks and Danny is detecting just a hint of shock there; Vlad is also clearly eyeing Flynn’s liquor hip bottle with a fair bit more appreciation now. Flynn making a disgusted face kinda cuts off Vlad’s appreciation though and Danny feels like he’s getting a flashback to that time Tucker had to eat all those blood blossoms. “Are you gonna throw up?”.

Vlad scowls, crosses his arms, and sticks his nose up in the air, “of course not, a Masters can handle his liquor”. Danny rolls his eyes while telekinetically moving a trashcan over to Flynn, “I don’t think that’s the problem here”.

Both of them look down as Flynn just kinda sits on the floor, puts his staff to the side, and throws up; at least he aims into the bucket instead of onto the floor. “Congrats Vlad, I think you just poisoned him”. Danny furrows his eyebrows a bit though when Vlad actually holds his hands out, bends down, and pats the guy on the back. Okay... guess Vlad’s being decent... Danny doesn’t actually know what to do with that. Ah the fact that he doesn’t know what to do with Vlad acting like a decent human being is probably actually concerning, come to think of it. So Danny does the logical thing and slaps himself across the face.

Vlad gives Flynn a not awkward head pat this time, “there there, just get it out of your system”, he hums, “I am rather surprised though, two sips isn’t exactly much”.

Danny sighs and taps his chin, “well when you consider the fact that he’s lived off nothing but ectoplasmic fauna and flora, makes sense that his body would kinda have forgotten how to fucking digest human food you stupid nutcase. Geez, for a guy who plays chess you’re not very smart”. Vlad looks back to him and glares slightly, “I’m surprised you know that. Did you actually pay attention in health class for once?“. Danny rolls his eyes at that particular jab, “one of my friends only eats plants and one only eats meat, what do you think happens every time some bull crap happens where they have to break their diets?”.

Regardless Danny sighs some and bends down next to Vlad and Flynn, joining Vlad in the back-patting/rubbing. Snickering at the guy some though because people taking you too seriously or being all nice ‘n shit when you’re throwing your guts up was more embarrassing than helpful, “maybe don’t eat or drink shit without ecto in it, yeah?”.

Flynn grunts, expected, “ßhût üp, ßhørtŷ”. Making Danny and Vlad blink, Vlad grins like an idiot while Danny chuckles, “huh, guess you speak ghost. Though talk about a thick accent there, Ancients”. Vlad shoves Danny head, which Danny let’s knock him over on the ground, “it’s͢ ͘q͟u͘i͜te͞ ͞a̕ ̧useful ̡sk̛i̡l̡l͜,̡ ͜why I̕ thi͡nk he̕’s m͏o͠re f͏l̴u̸e̵nt͠ tha͏n҉ ͜yo̶u, Dan̕i̵eļ”. Danny stays laying on the ground, “I’m̕ ̸a̡ na͏t͠iv̵e spea̡k̷ȩr, so̧ ̛I̕ ͠don̕’̡t͞ ̡th̶ink̷ so”.

Flynn leans back, pushes away the bucket, and puts his arms on his knees, “ÿæ ßtåŷįñ’ thërë¿“. Danny nods with a grin from the floor and gives a thumbs up, earning a head shake from Flynn.

All three snap their heads to the kitchen entranceway as feet pound down the steps and Maddie and Jack come barging in, everyone then looking to the lab door as Jazz pushes it open while dusting off her pants and grumbling, “I so do not envy Danny having to clean that all the time”, pausing and looking up around everyone before zeroing in on three people sitting/laying on the floor, “Flynn! Danny! What happened!”, and runs over while glaring at and obviously blaming Vlad, who stands and readjusts his suit like he’s embarrassed to be caught caring. Well get caught by anyone other than Danny anyway; which makes sense ‘cause Vlad would probably be all caring about Danny if Danny wasn’t, you know, not evil.

Danny rolls over onto his back, looking at Jazz, “guess who can’t stomach human stuff?”, and jabs a thumb towards Flynn while Maddie rushes over and helps Flynn stand. Well okay, Flynn mostly waves off said help and stands up on his own, but still; Flynn also promptly grabs up his staff again. That staff’s probably some kind of comfort item for the guy.

Jack laughs as he comes to stand next to Vlad, “guess we’ll be cooking with a lot more ecto!”. Danny can practically feel malicious intent wafting of Vlad. Flynn grunting, “I’m ‘ine”. Which Maddie looks at him sweetly over and Jazz shakes her head at, “well let’s move into the living room anyway. Then you-”, glaring at Flynn, “-can sit down, and we can all hear what happened to you”. Vlad nods and hums, “yes I would like to know how I acquired a son from another timeline that’s been living nomadically in the Ghost Zone”.

Jack laughs as they all walk into the living room, “yup! Most we know is that some darn ghosty called Misery Vex took you at some point!”. Maddie and Jazz watching Flynn with slight worry as they walk. Danny just eyes Vlad to see if Vlad shows even the slightest amount of recognition regarding this ‘Misery Vex’, he doesn’t -fuck Danny’s luck- but Danny can’t exactly expect the man to know of every ghost ever. Regardless Danny skips over, puts his hands behind his back and sticks his face next to Vlad’s, “guessin’ you don’t know who that is either?”. Vlad scowls, “‘fraid not, but when I find them, and I will, I’m going to make them beg me to end them and then I’m going to find out how good ghost skin is at reupholstering my dining room chairs”.

Danny blinks, “I forgot there was a reason you and Skulker got along. Also, I doubt you have the skill set to be skinning anyone. Also also, I’m amazed you care that much”, and smirks.

“Must you mock me so, boy”.

Danny grins, “well.., how would you like me to mock you? I’ll hear your requests”, shrugging, “sure I might ignore them, but I’ll certainly hear them”. And finally flops to sit down on the love seat, Vlad sitting next to him with scowl. Jazz opts to sit with Maddie and Jack on the couch, while Flynn takes the chair; got to give the loner nomad his personal space after all.

Flynn huffs, “yeah, Vex’s is tha one that pulled me in ta tha Infinite Realm”. Jack doesn’t give him a chance to say more, tilting his head, “is that what ghosts call the Ghost Zone?!?”. Danny and Vlad both quietly sigh into their hands. Flynn squints at the large man, “ya nevar asked ‘em?”.; at least Maddie and Jack have the decency to look sheepish. Flynn squints more, “it’s what it’s called. Propar name”. Danny chuckles and waves Flynn off, “eh, then Zone can be slang”, ‘Zone’ was in fact common slang. Flynn rolls his eyes.

Vlad sighs quietly again, “linguistics aside, was there a reason Vex took you? And I’m just to assume you’re in this timeline purely due to your old one ceasing to exist”. Which Danny mutters, “duh”, at. Everyone ignores him as Flynn shrugs, “don’ know, like I’ve said ‘ready, ain’t stickin’ ‘round half spider creature-”. Danny’s wondering if the guy’s getting tired of explaining that. “-bark armour wasn’ friendly lookin’ eithar”.

Danny eyes Flynn’s bark armour, “guess yours doesn’t make you look all that approachable either”. With Maddie jumping in, “did you get that idea from It?”. Making Flynn blink at her before looking to Danny, “I did say Vex’s a lady, ‘ight?”. Danny nods but Jazz is the one to audibly sigh, drawing Flynn’s attention as she talks, “yes but-”, side-eyeing her parents, “-ghosts don’t get pronouns”.

Maddie rolls her eyes not unkindly, “now honey, we’ve talked about this, ghosts aren’t sentient or complex enough to understand gender and we don’t call plants ‘he’ or ‘she’-”. Danny coughs into his hand, “Sam does, you know”; which goes ignored. Maddie continuing, “-so why would we do so for ghosts? It would be like assigning gender to lightning”. Danny sighs internally, and he bets both Jazz and Vlad do as-well.

Flynn just stares at her for a while before blinking, “moron-”. Danny has the distinct feeling his folks are going to be hearing Flynn calling them ‘morons’ an awful lot. “-they have preferances. Blobs are no gendar, not tha Cored”. Vlad sighs dramatically, “what does gender have to do with my son's abduction”. Danny chuckles to himself faintly, guess Vladdie really grabbed onto the whole ‘I have a son’ thing with absolute confidence. Made sense. Ancients if Danny accepted him then the man probably wouldn’t stop using the word ‘son’ at every possible opportunity for a solid month.

Jack laughs almost awkwardly and scratches his head, “nothing! I guess”. Vlad scowls at him.

Flynn clears his throat, “well she-”. Nice passive-aggressiveness going on there. “-couldn’ ‘xactly follow me aftar I slippin’ inta some rock crag”, grunting, “ghost can’ go through rocks ‘n what not there”. Jack looks like he’s physically restraining himself from peppering Flynn with questions about that. Danny thinks this should be obvious though, since ghosts not being able to phase through ectoplasmic constructs/formations is literally how ghost shields worked. Like, duh.

Vlad just nods with a hum, “so you’ve been on your own since?”; which Flynn nods at. Maddie huffs, “I’m amazed the ghost didn’t chase you down”; Flynn shrugs, clearly not about to claim to understand why himself. Which yeah, abducting a kid through a portal seemed like a lot of effort to put in to just turn around and let the human run away; probably thought that this random human child wouldn’t be able to effectively avoid capture or survive on his own. Well surprise mother fucker! Flynn’s a Fenton -well a Masters too but whatever- being able to handle ghost shit is in his genes.

Danny decides to ask something that’s actually mildly important for him to know, “so bark armour and the lower half of a spider, anything else?”. His mom quirks an eyebrow at him so Danny elaborates/makes up an excuse, “wouldn’t it be good to know what a ghost that may come after him looks like?”. Earning an approving hum from her. Danny’s more interested in Vlad muttering to himself, “an Arachne then”; sweet, he’s got a species now.

Flynn grunts, “purpal skin, lotsa black eyes, bare bark crown-”. Danny almost chokes at that and he’s sure Vlad at least went slightly wide-eyed, because crown implied royalty. Which just great, that meant Danny was going to have to deal with whoever all kingly and shit. “-an clothes were shinebettle, I think-”. So basically shiny latex leather? Alright, that’s a look. “-an wendigo mane pelt ovar spidar half-”. Well that all but confirms Danny’s suspicions that Vex is from or at least frequents the FairLands. The only wendigo’s that didn’t just turn to ectoplasmic ash when destroyed were the faebeast ones. Hooray for having to probably go see Oberon. “-She had a fauchard ta”. Danny nods to himself.

Jack taps his chin, “that still doesn’t explain why though”, earning shrugs all around. Jack grinning, “we should hunt Vex down and find out!”. Which Vlad actually grins at, “yes, you go do that”. Danny kicking the man subtly and whispering, “Vlad no. Bad”, he knows the only reasons Vlad’s encouraging that is ‘cause his folks might torture the ghost and because the ghost might harm/kill Jack.

Maddie shakes her head and chastises Jack, “you’ll be doing no such thing, we don’t know the Zone is actually safe”, glancing at Flynn, “regardless of Flynn’s survival. Flukes happen”. Danny thinks it would make way more sense to guess it's safer than they thought than to just assume Flynn got lucky. But hey! At least he doesn’t have to worry as much that his folks are just going to run wild in the Zone anytime soon.

Vlad rolls his eyes though speaks somewhat sweetly, “dear Maddie, always being the voice of reason”. Maddie grimaces, and Flynn glances between them with a slight frown. Vlad digs in his pocket when his ringer goes off though. Speaking up after reading the screen, “seems some of the underlings are too moronic to deal with some problem alone”, looking up to everyone, “so I must be taking my leave now”, and stands up.

Jack jumping up, “well we can finish up Flynn’s room and he can join us after you’ve said your goodbyes! Wouldn’t want to interrupt that!”, and laughs. Maddie smiling sweetly and following him once again upstairs. Jazz sighs and moves to follow them, “I’ll make sure they didn’t get carried away”; while Danny just stretches and lounges out across the loveseat. Watching Vlad talk down at the still seated Flynn.

“I guess I’ll have to leave dealing with this Misery Vex in your and young Daniel’s hands. I don’t particularly have time to deal with petty ghost squabbles”, side-eyeing Danny, “he’s quite experienced with those though, so I doubt he’ll fail to be an effective meat-shield if needed”.

Flynn rolls his eyes, “I don’ care ta ‘deal with’ her at all. ‘Ine as is”. While Danny snorts at Vlad, “Ancients, you’re such a fucking pissant”.

Earning squinting from Vlad, “I’m the mayor and one of the richest people in the world”, huffing, “and I’m nothing to scoff at power-wise”.

“You are staying that... to the literal king... of death”. Danny smirks, “I’m fucking lucifer, bitch”. Vlad and Flynn blink and stare at him. Danny rubs his neck, “eh, too much?”. They both nod slightly. And there the similarities go being creepy again. Vlad shakes his head slowly, looking back to Flynn, “ignoring that, you can contact me for anything. Particularly if you decide being here isn’t worth the effort or annoyance”, and pats Flynn’s head, “you’ll want for nothing regardless”, making shooing motions at him, “now run along and help your mother and sister stop that imbecile from installing an anti-ghost auto-detection machine gun on your ceiling or some other nonsense”. Danny vaguely hates that his dad might actually do that. Though he’s surprised that Flynn actually does as he’s told with only a mild amount of suspicious squinting. Maybe he’s tired of Vlad’s existence? Doubtful but Danny can hope. Probably more likely the guy just wanted to get closer to being able to have some alone time, and room set up was an effective way to do that.

Danny waits till Flynn disappears upstairs to speak up, “hey Vlad?”. Vlad doesn’t even look back at him, instead just staring up the stairs, “hmmm?”.

“Don’t fuck this up. You know, like you always do”. Danny glares seriously at Vlad as he goes to stand up and Vlad actually looks to him with a quirked eyebrow, “but if you ever hurt him you won’t need to wonder where your god is anymore, because he’s coming for you and he’ll be fresh outta mercy”, squinting, “all these fucks will have flown off, never to return again. And you will be left crippled, withered, dried up and crapped on. At the bottom of a shitty little well where people will throw out their rotten fruit down on you and the remnants of your shitty little life”, glaring more, “we clear”. Vlad nods a bit stiffly; after all, when the king orders something or warns you, you fucking listen. Danny decides to really hammer it home though, “the fucking heat death of the universe will not be able to even approach the level of damage that the amount of fucks I will no longer give will cause you. What I’m saying is, I wouldn’t mind tearing out a length of your intestines, rolling it in a pan, sprinkling on some nice cinnamon and maybe some raisins. You know, for texture and a little added surprise. Then sliding it right into the oven for a nice little cinnamon bun”, chuckling meanly, “there’s even some icing pre-made in the fridge. So I’m all ready to go, bitch. Then I could use your hollowed-out torso to ride you like a meat toboggan. I’m sure your fucking intestines could be utilised as perfectly fine ropes to control my descent down the bloody snow-covered hill all the way into the depths of madness that you were birthed from years ago”.

“Daniel... you’ve made your point”, Vlad actually sounds slightly disturbed. Danny rolls his eyes and puts his hand in his pockets, “yeah well, so long as you don’t go making god sacrificing his only son look like a good parenting technique”.

“I... won’t”.

Danny pats Vlad on the arm, “good talk then”, and finger guns before heading upstairs, “and I’m still not your fam, frootloop”. Vlad just scowls at him and leaves, closing the door slightly louder than necessary. Return to normalcy achieved.

[tendertenebrosity]

Newest instalment of TJ and Danny’s story, my OCs from @wildfaewhump’s Pathverse! 

Part three in a series: One, two. Masterpost for all their stories here. Enjoy! 

When the noise and the violent motion stopped, TJ stayed where he was for a long, breathless second, his breathing loud in his ears.

The tiny enclosed space of the car was hot, smelled harsh and strong, like burning. TJ was on his side, hanging awkwardly with the straps of the seatbelt cutting into his side. He slowly, carefully uncurled his arms from around his head and listened.

He didn’t hear anything.

“Danny?” he asked.  

There was silence for a long, horrible moment. Then TJ heard the sound of someone shifting amongst bits of debris and fabric. A swearword, drawn out and slurred.

TJ shifted in place, trying to find a position that wasn’t as uncomfortable, plucked awkwardly at the seatbelt strap. It hurt. He wanted it off. He wanted to get out of the car.

What had happened? Danny had been driving, and arguing with his friend from the other Agency, and then – and then – had the car crashed? Was that what had happened, that brief couple of seconds of being thrown about violently?

The phone voice was silent now. The car creaked, plinked, tiny noises in the quiet. Danny’s breathing was loud and harsh panting, from somewhere in front, that TJ could hear even over his own breaths.

“Danny?” TJ asked again.

Danny grunted, moved, and made an odd noise. High-pitched, wordless. Was he hurt?

“Kid,” Danny’s voice said, hoarse and faint. “Oh, fuck. Ah, shit – damn it – damn it – I can’t…” He puffed for breath, the movement subsiding. “TJ, are you – are you – hurt?”

“No,” TJ said, frightened. He wasn’t, was he? He patted his arms, shifted his legs to make sure he was telling the truth. He ached, the seatbelt hurt, but he had had worse.  Nothing was injured. “No, I’m not – are – are you?”

“Fuck. Yeah. Yeah, I – TJ, I can’t come and – come and let you out, s’rry, fucking… fucking legs’re… you should, y’should….”

Danny’s words trailed away, became unintelligible. TJ felt cold fear starting to creep around his chest and stomach. Danny was not supposed to sound like that. Danny was supposed to tell TJ what to do.

“Danny?”

No answer, only breathing.

TJ gripped tight to the seatbelt, the fabric smooth and shiny-feeling under the pads of his fingers, tiny threads catching under his nails. He gulped for breath, panic rising.

“Danny, I should what?” he wailed. “What am I supposed to do? Danny? Danny, you need to tell me what to do next!”

TJ’s voice bounced back at him from the small enclosed space, too loud, too much, and Danny still didn’t answer. Something clinked; TJ’s faded secondhand memories filled in possibilities. Broken glass, stone, metal? The broken glass in his mind’s eye was painted with blood.

No, he thought, shoving that back forcefully. No. There isn’t. You’d smell it, wouldn’t you?

The car was so hot. TJ thought he could still feel sunlight on his upper arm and his face.

What had Danny been about to say? He’d said that he couldn’t get TJ out of the car. Then that TJ should do something. Maybe he’d meant… TJ should get himself out?

TJ’s fingers found the fastening of the seatbelt. How did you… He fumbled, found the right place to push, click.

He found himself sliding across the tilted carseat, grabbing at the door to hold himself still, as the belt slithered back to wherever it went with a whirring noise. Okay. Okay, now open the door. He tried, twice, fumbling at the handle. People did this all the time, right, they were supposed to open from the inside, it shouldn’t be – that – difficult -

He got it open a crack, but it closed again immediately, the weight of metal pushing it shut. TJ chewed his lip, took a deep breath… then reached up, and pushed his blindfold up over his forehead before he could change his mind.

The sun was bright, pouring in through the car window, little motes of dust twirling and catching golden in the air in front of his face. TJ squinted, blinking down at his clenched fist in his lap until he could see well enough through half-closed eyes to work the door handle.

Eventually he clambered out of the car, thin-soled shoes slipping over the rubber and plastic, and stood beside it.

It was… too much, out here. Too bright. TJ shaded his eyes, holding his hands up like a child pretending to use binoculars, blinking aside tears.

The sky was… the sky was… too big. He whimpered involuntarily, stumbling away from the car. A vast bowl of blueness that might suck him up and into it if he wasn’t careful, if he looked at too much at once. He carefully directed his gaze downwards, focusing on one thing at a time.

The ground was yellow-green grass, knee-high in places and mixed with weeds. It was torn up in great gouges leading up to the car, ridges of mud with grass blades pressed into them.

The ground sloped away from the car, upwards to – TJ chanced a quick glance up, to see a metal barrier hidden behind more weeds, and then more hill and trees further along. The road was that way. He was dimly surprised at how far away it was.

The car was a dull blue, boxy and shiny like a beetle, lying all askew with its right wheels half-buried in dirty water and weeds and the left wheels not even touching the ground.

The car crashed, he found himself thinking, numbly. It hit the barrier and went over it. Now it’s lying on its side, on the slope. There’s broken glass and plastic on the ground. His arm hurt, and his head. He couldn’t see Danny at all…

TJ realised that his lips had been moving, half muttering. He shook his head, frustrated with himself. He pulled the blindfold off his forehead, scrunching it up in hands that shook. Stop it! This isn’t a memory. Nobody needs you to say it out loud. This is real. This is happening now.

And there’s no ‘he’. There’s just you.

All there is here is you. Danny can’t tell you what to do now.

He walked, dreamlike, around the car, the mud soaking through his thin shoes and getting his feet wet. The front of it was crumpled – cars weren’t supposed to do that – shards of orange plastic mixed garishly with the grass.

And Danny was in the front seat. At the first glimpse of him, a brief flash of dark fuzzy hair and a bulky shoulder in a uniform visible through the broken window, TJ gasped and squeezed his eyes shut. That was wrong! TJ wasn’t supposed to see Danny!

He was still in the car, he couldn’t get out. Did he look hurt? It was wrong that TJ had seen him!

TJ stood there, eyelids scrunched closed, in the hot dark dizziness of the sunshine. The world was spinning slowly around him.

I can’t look at Danny. What if I take his soul?

TJ didn’t have the faintest idea… how exactly a Path would take a soul. People, both handlers and his caretakers back when he was a child, had always acted like it was something he would just sort of instinctively be able to do. But he didn’t know how, so that meant he also didn’t know how to not do it, right?

But Danny was hurt. TJ didn’t know how badly. What if he needed TJ to do something?  

“Danny?” TJ quavered. “Danny, I’m out of the car.”

There was no answer, again. Was Danny unconscious? Or awake and not able to talk for some reason? TJ caught his breath in a panicked sob.

Think, okay, think. He needed someone to tell him what to do, but there was no-one.

So… if someone told him to do something… what would that be? Could he guess? Figure out what the right thing to do was even if there was nobody to tell him?

Simplest, safest answer was almost always to sit still and wait. If you hadn’t been ordered to do anything, that was the same as being ordered to do nothing. Right? So TJ should just sit down here, in this ditch, and wait for somebody from the Agency to come and get him.

He did so, wobbling a little bit, sinking down onto his rump on the uneven slope. He folded his hands in his lap, trying to calm his racing heart. It was going to be okay. Even if TJ and Danny were alone now, it wouldn’t be for long. The Agency would send people to get them. It might take time, but they would.

Only.

Only Danny was hurt.

What if by the time the Agency got here he was…. Worse? What if he died? What if, while TJ was just sitting here in the dirt, Danny was bleeding or suffocating or dying? What if the Agency never came – TJ remembered with sudden painful clarity that Danny had never told Julie where he was.

He whimpered, his hands twisting in his shirt. He didn’t know what to do!

What do I think Danny would say if he could?  

Well if I knew what he’d tell me to do I would just do that, wouldn’t I!

This was so hard. What did Danny say when things were hard? He would swear and be annoyed but he’d tell TJ to push through the pain and do the job in front of him. He’d tell TJ he was tough and he could do this.

Come on, TJ, he thought at himself, firmly, trying to infuse his inner voice with Danny-ness. Think it through, step by step. Easy does it. TJ was okay at following other people’s trains of thought, but this was so much harder.

If sitting still and waiting wasn’t the best answer, what else could TJ do? He could… find somebody else, another handler. Could he use the phone Danny had been using to call Julie again? Or the Agency?

TJ carefully, slowly cracked his eyelids open, and peered at the car. Sunlight dazzled off glass and metal. Somewhere in there was Danny’s phone… right? Could TJ use it? Oh, that felt wrong, that felt like a bad Path thing to do, but it was the only way TJ could imagine of finding another handler.

Of course, it might be broken. And TJ didn’t know how if he could even find it, let alone use it to call someone specific...  

He could get up and go walk for help.  

TJ slid his eyes closed, to better contemplate this thought. It also felt… kind of bad. Danny’s voice echoed in his head. I’m not going to go off and leave a Path unsupervised. An unsupervised TJ was a bad thing that needed to be kept away from people, right?

But the Agency didn’t know where TJ and Danny were, and they wouldn’t know unless they happened to find them. Right? So TJ needed to go somewhere he’d be more likely to get found. Then the Agency would know where Danny was and they could save him!

TJ took a deep breath, set his shoulders firmly. All right.

He got to his feet.

“Hey Danny,” he said, voice wobbling only slightly. He looked deliberately away from the car, as if he was talking to the stand of weeds a few feet away, and pitched his voice loud enough to carry. “I’m going to walk up to the road, and find some people. Okay? Everything – everything is going to be all right. Don’t worry, I’ll put my blindfold back on as soon as anybody’s around, and I won’t touch anyone, and, and, and I’ll be careful.”

He waited for long enough to know Danny wasn’t going to say anything.

Then he shaded his watering eyes, set them on the metal barrier, and started to trudge up the slope alone.

[bi-outta-cordonia]

In Another World, Part I

It’s @rodappreciationweek and I decided I’d do something! I’m still kinda mystified by the idea that Colt and MC could’ve had a completely different relationship if they had met under different circumstances so I’d like to explore it.

This is going to be a multipart story with a ton of words for each chapter, so forgive me for the length. Colt x MC is going to be the focal point. 

Ride or Die: A Bad Boy Romance. Colt Kaneko x f!MC (Deidre Wheeler). PG-13, with some warnings in regards to alcohol usage. ~5k words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’s been over it sixteen—no, seventeen times. Check-in three weeks prior to the start of classes, RAs are all going to be at the front desk, and keys will be distributed in alphabetical order starting with last name. Ingrid is already set up and, for once, there’s no need to be rankled at the idea of her being first. They’ve already moved on from the bitter academic war they waged between each other.

“Valedictorian” goes to Deidre Wheeler, all around genius and undisputed number one hailing from Mar Vista Prep. Her dad thought it was absolutely hilarious but he always did say he’d rather see young brown girls fighting over achievements rather than stupid stuff. He’s given her the speech about a thousand times, “work twice as hard for half as much,” and work she has.

Burning through courses is almost a hobby more than a necessity. How many honors and pre-college credits are under her belt? Twenty? It’s a rush like no other and almost induces a high of the most unusual sense. “Better than yesterday’s Deidre”—it’s the mindset that keeps her going and the mantra that plays in her head on repeat. She conquered high school doing twice as much, three times as hard, and ten times better than the previous day’s version of herself. Ingrid is very similar and it’s partially the reason why they were able to turn a rivalry into mutual respect within the past few months.

In hindsight, it’s a good thing she managed to quash that thing with Ingrid. High school is one thing and she can’t afford to be all on her own in college. The online facilities tours make it clear she’s made it someplace well above her dad’s humble salary—Langston University. The most prestigious university on the east coast and full of alumni all running in elite circles who most certainly have been afforded educations that far exceed what she’s been given in her life.

These are vacation homes in multiple countries types—kids that have gotten pretty far on the most expensive schooling money can buy and parents that occasionally rub elbows with admissions officers and deans. Mostly wealthy white kids are stomping all over the campus on top of that, so of course that’s an even bigger hurdle to jump. Allegedly, it’s the money they’ll judge her for the most but Mar Vista wasn’t much different as far as the atmosphere is concerned. They underestimated her there too and she’ll roll right over these Langston kids. She doesn’t know any other way to be.

“There it is.”

Deidre lifts her head and peers out the window as the lush campus of her dream school passes by. Groups of kids wander the campus, likely visiting friends or heading to their summer classes. A few cars traverse the tiny winding streets and she thinks of the online facility tour again.

“State of the art buildings, each dedicated to the campus through the network of alumni and donors who are proud to call themselves ‘Drakes!’”

“Ingrid keeps talking about how big the room is,” she says. “Still have to share showers though, so hopefully the other girls won’t be gross.”

Her dad smiles.

“I’m real glad you two became friends.” She makes a noise and he rolls his eyes. “I’m real glad you two became acquaintances. It won’t feel as lonely out here when there’s someone you know and she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Knows what she wants and goes after it–like you.”

She dips her head and her braids fall around her face. Her father shoots a quick look at her but doesn’t say anything just yet. He’d tell her to keep an eye on the landscape passing in the background. All sixty years of academic prestige—prestige she’s dreamed of delving into—surrounds her on all sides. It’s Langston.

Her father shifts and gently squeezes her shoulder.

“You remember seven years ago? When mom drew that portrait of me?” Deidre asks.

She can almost see it again: kitchen floor covered in white tarp yet streaks of paint still stain the linoleum. Her mother’s back always faced the door because the natural light always spills in on one particular side. Orange, yellow, and blue cans of paint fill the room with a chemical smell but she found she never minded it so long as she could watch her mother work. Deft hands glide along the canvas in total silence filling in color and smoothing out rough edges.

She remembers the little moments when her breath would hitch and her body leaned forward as her mother utilized some other form of artistic witchcraft to make her already stunning art into a masterpiece. She remembers watching her mother’s tongue retract back into her mouth as she put the finishing touches of brown in her subject’s eyes. She remembers the wide smile that broke across her mother’s when the work was finally completed.

Her father sniffs and clears his throat. Of course he remembers—how could he ever forget his wife?

“Packed it in the back for you,” he says. “A lot of her old stuff is still at home but that painting had to come with you to school. She never…” He pulls the car to a stop at her residence hall—her new home for the next four months. Ray Wheeler is a man that’s seen every type of tragic story imaginable and felt it in spades when Death came for his wife. Her father reaches across and caresses Deidre’s cheek, choking on tears dangerously close to falling as he stares into eyes that haunt him. “I know she’s proud of you. I’m proud of you, baby girl. And no matter what happens from this day forward, I need you to know you earned this. You busted your ass and you made this dream into your own reality. You are capable—more capable than anyone I have ever known.”

She wipes her own tears. Five years ago, she lost her mother yet every day it feels like she’s still watching. Deidre looks up at the dorm in front of her—all square and looking more spacious than it has the right to be. Twice as hard to get half as much and she’ll keep pushing, not because there are eyes on her but because she sees it and wants it for herself. Success, sure, but endless possibility above it all.

Deidre steels herself and shares a determined look with her father. They both slide out of the car and every step she takes towards the building makes her tremble. She soldiers through it with her head up and her heart slamming in her chest.  

~

It takes an hour to fight through the throngs of students jockeying for their keys to their rooms. RAs and parents alike scream, most of the students are chatting incessantly or on their phones. It’s pure chaos and she almost loves it. The sight of a tall blonde in a cute blue dress has Deidre squinting at first until said blonde turns her head and she’s met with Ingrid’s picture perfect smile.

Ingrid wraps her up in a hug tighter than the one she gave at graduation. It is warm like peak hours on a beach and smells like a brand of perfume that costs money just to name out loud. When Ingrid pulls back, her make up is impeccable and her smile is brighter than the sun. She has to rise to her full height because she has to lean down to reach Deidre and it suddenly makes little sense why Deidre even disliked her for all those years.

“Hi Mr. Wheeler!” Ingrid exclaims, peering over Deidre’s shoulder and waving enthusiastically.

Her father gives a small wave back. “How’s your summer been?”

“Oh, so-so,” Ingrid responds, still smiling. “I guess I’m just anxious. Most of the time, I’m wandering around campus trying to wrap my head around this and then other times I’m just hanging out. So you know,” she absently waves a hand, “just your average young adult on the verge of being a real adult. Oh!” Deidre startles when Ingrid whirls on her. “Most of your stuff is here!”

Deidre tosses a glance at the packed lobby. “I still need my keys first.”

Ingrid snorts. “I got this.”

She barely manages to usher out a strangled sound of protest as Ingrid pulls her along through the lobby. The RA, Danny, quirks a brow at both of them. It takes less than ten minutes for Ingrid to weasel Deidre’s keys from Danny despite her name being dead last on the list. A couple of parents and students toss annoyed looks at them but all they get in return is Ingrid’s signature hair flip backed by Ray’s own intense glare.

Langston isn’t much different from the average ivy league. She can’t wrap her head around how much cash probably flows into this place but she can appreciate what some of that money does. Ingrid leads the Wheelers through rather straightforward halls until they reach the room. She watches anxiously as Deidre uses her key on the door and slowly opens it.

It’s a room almost as wide as the kitchen and living room at her dad’s house back in LA—two beds pushed on opposite sides with enough space in the middle to put two more if they wanted. Ingrid told her she wanted a bunk set up and has already finagled her desk and dresser beneath the gap. Various items decorate the space from fairy lights to the delicate lace framing the bed.

Natural light pours in from two rather large windows and exposes a view of the winding campus walkways. More students traverse these paths, shoving and laughing at each other as they shuffle to their next destination. Deidre peers out the window, takes it all in through two blinks and a breath. When she looks back at Ingrid, she’s gesturing towards the pile of essentials sitting on the other side of the room still waiting to be removed from the packaging.

She can already see it—dawn cresting just beyond the bend of trees framing the opposite side of the walkways as birds gleefully sing. Her heavy eyelids slowly open as she feels around for her water bottle and she removes her thick rimmed glasses so she can properly greet the morning sun. Her bed is pushed against the other wall much like Ingrid’s and sits on four pillars that raise the whole construct off the ground by a comfortable margin. Owls decorate her pillows and covers, muted blue and soft mint green the most prominent color theme, and she stretches sitting cross-legged at her desk while a full night’s worth of work covers her computer screen from top to bottom…

“You’re already thinking about writing a paper or something, aren’t you?”

Deidre shoots an annoyed look at Ingrid.

Deidre’s father whistles and turns slowly, taking in all aspects of the spacious room. “You girls should be cozy enough in here.” He shakes his head and mutters, “…all this damn money…”

“You want to start putting your stuff together?” Ingrid asks, poking at the boxes still patiently waiting by the bed. “I mean, no rush or anything!”

Deidre shares a look with her father and the two smile warmly. It’s almost like old times again.

Strange thinking of it as old times like it wasn’t just three days ago that she played the last game of Conqueror with her dad on a quiet Friday night. He was somber then, still anxious and afraid of sending his only child off into the world. Every night it feels like he’s telling her a new story about a girl that got caught up in a mess she didn’t belong in or a boy that never had a fair shot at life. Cop parents are weird about the dangers of the world but she didn’t want him to feel bad so she just nodded and acted like she was listening.

Cracking open the packages is making it more real by the minute. Her father lifts one side of the bed while both girls slide the platforms under each leg. Ingrid helps Deidre push her desk up against the wall underneath the windows and her father hefts the back portion onto it. The rhythm is far too familiar—Deidre pulls her weight but her father shoulders most of the burden. He took care of her for five years after her mother passed and it frightens her to think of what he’s going to do now that she’s no longer in his reach.

The rest of the day goes by in a terrible blur and she can’t stop thinking about her father. Fairy lights wrap around the legs of the bed and stretch across the headboard. More are carefully woven in a delicate pattern above the wall that now holds a distinct picture of a younger version of herself. Muted blue and soft mint green sheets, pillows, and comforter bring a pop to the room that perfectly pairs with the soft pink and white of Ingrid’s side. Owls in various adorable depictions stare back at her.

It unfolds slowly and becomes the image she pictures it to be. When they all finish, she realizes her father is leaving tomorrow morning.

She starts crying as soon as his hand gently squeezes her shoulder and Ingrid quietly excuses herself from the room, tossing a sympathetic look towards the two Wheelers finally coming to grips with their rapidly shifting reality. Her brain almost tries to get her to remember the last time she cried but she stops it before it even starts.

“You’re gonna do just fine, baby girl,” her father says, choking up on the very assurance. They both know she will. They’ll both be fine once things get going in this new world. He pulls her back and wipes at her freefalling tears. “It doesn’t matter how far away I am, I’m only a phone call away, you understand?”

Deidre nods. “I’ll—”

He shakes his head.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says and nods proudly.

The world is changing. They are changing. But they’ll be here. She has to believe it.

“I’ll see you soon,” she repeats.

He stays until the evening and buys the girls dinner. The food is good and the right amount of greasy (salad for Ingrid though; Deidre never knew she was a vegetarian). Once he leaves, she is somber once more. Night encroaches quickly and she tucks herself into bed rather early. As Ingrid removes her makeup, she tosses a question over her shoulder.

“Anything in particular you doing tomorrow?”

Deidre shifts quietly. “No? What’s up?”

~

Within less than 24 hours, she breaks all the rules again.

There’s a list of them she always knew sat at the back of her head. All four years of high school revolve around them—she is Ray Wheeler’s daughter, she will conduct herself appropriately in his house. As long as he’s paying for her food and he’s paying for the clothes on her back, he expects discipline. No partying, no drinking, no smoking of any kind, and she responds with “yes sir” and “no, ma’am.”

“Ooh, yes. Dark lippies are so you.”

Ingrid, who is much sweeter than Deidre ever gave her credit for, seems genuinely interested in befriending her despite their previous drama. She’s a bit too tall to share clothes but it just so happens that she’s an expert in making outfits when she puts her mind to it. A pair of scissors lies abandoned on Ingrid’s desk and strips of cloth lay equally forgotten upon the floor. Makeup cakes Deidre’s face (thanks to a quick trip to a local Sephora) and her body squirms in the newly made outfit that adorns her body.

She looks…different. Almost as different as the first time she went to a “high school” party. She remembers a few things from then—copious drinking and a lot of dancing, maybe a stray couple or two making out in the corners. Her face heats at the memory but she pushes it down.

College is different. A fresh start. Ray Wheeler isn’t here and he doesn’t need to know.

Deidre pulls at the short skirt clinging to her hips and fiddles with the crop top that is definitely slipping down (it isn’t—she just can’t help  feeling like it is). Ingrid gently pushes her hands away so she can finish applying makeup, her tongue peeking between her lips and her brow drawn tight as she concentrates. It takes another hour before Ingrid steps back with a bright smile plastered on her face.

“Observe,” she says, stepping to the side and gesturing at the mirror.

When Deidre looks at the glass, she knows the face that stares back at her well. It’s her, makeup won’t change the bookish air she carries or the obvious awkward tension in her. Dark liner won’t change the inquisitive look in her brown eyes. Shiny eyeshadow and shimmery lippies won’t erase that strange pout, as if she’s chewing her lip trying to decipher some mystery she can’t quite put her finger on.

She looks the same but also different. This is going to be different.

“I’m insanely jealous of your makeup skills,” Deidre says, staring wide eyed at her reflection.

Ingrid beams. “You should be.”

~

Turns out Ingrid has made a lot of friends in the time she’s spent on her own out here.

“They’re not really friends friends,” she clarifies. They approach the frat house at a fast pace due to the length of Ingrid’s bold strides. Deidre keeps up as best she can although the journey is a little harder in heels. Ingrid’s lips purse. “One of the guys here is the son of the head of the biochem department. Allegedly, it’s a real boys club here and the only women that really get passes are…you know…”

Her brows raise and Deidre sighs.

“Legacy,” they both sigh.

People start appearing around the bends and corners, each one of them dressed to the nines for a frat party. A few boys shout the Greek letters of the frat and pointedly show off their dates. Deidre looks back at Ingrid and notes the determination flaring in the taller girl’s eyes.

“There’s only two women in that department but they both teach upper levels. I won’t be able to take their classes this year.” Ingrid levels a serious look at Deidre. “We’re smart as hell. Smarter than most of these other people but they won’t act like it.”

She’s heard this conversation a million times.

“Work twice as hard for half as much,” Deidre mutters.

“I’m not gonna do anything with the guy. I just need to milk him for a bit,” Ingrid says.

The frat house is…a scene.

Gold and blue flags drape from windows down the side of the house. People spill out the door onto the porch and spread across the lawn. Loud music blares from speakers on the inside of the house and the beat vibrates through every muscle in her body.

Every step forward has her more nervous than the last. Ingrid takes her hand and leads her through the throng of people crowding the door. Eyes land on them instantly—curious, heated, suspicious, accusatory, and every emotion in between. She sees the stray looks raking over her braids and the sneers that follow. Those ones she actually does make eye contact with and musters the most indignant look she can manage. They look away soon enough but not before sharing cruel snickers amongst each other.

The further in Ingrid leads her, the more prominently the bass thrums. She can barely recognize the latest Raleigh Carrera single. It seems like it’s been slowed.

“I see the guy!” Ingrid shouts. Deidre leans closer and follows her gaze towards him. He looks about what she expects—tall, brunette, and wearing a lot of things that probably cost more than her life. Ingrid shares a sheepish smile. “He’s not that bad, I promise. His friends are kinda gross though, so don’t be afraid to stand your ground. One of his buddies—that guy?” Ingrid points at a boy with glasses. “He’s a sophomore—mechanical engineering. Have a chat with him!”

They get close enough to Ingrid’s guy that he practically jumps up when he sees them.

“Hey, you!” he exclaims, throwing his arms around Ingrid. She returns his hug but Deidre doesn’t miss the way she squeezes her hand. When he pulls back, he flashes a dopey grin. His hands don’t come off Ingrid’s shoulders. “I was wondering when you’d show up! You look really good.”

Ingrid flips her hair and smiles a bit. She nods at Deidre. “This is my friend, Deidre. Deidre—this is Tatum.”

Tatum gives a two finger salute and Deidre returns a small smile. “Any friend of Ingrid’s is a friend of mine. Welcome to the frat! Come here, let’s get you girls some drinks.”

The girls jerk to an immediate halt. Or rather, Deidre tugs Ingrid’s hand hard. There’s a wild and panicky look in her eye, she knows it. Ingrid, bless her heart, immediately remembers that between the two of them, one of them has an incredibly loving father who is also a police officer.

“Um, so like—” Ingrid whips her head around and Tatum looks up from the punch bowl. “Can you make one nonalcoholic? It’s…um…”

Deidre’s face heats up. “I’m not…I’m not much of a drinker…”

Tatum’s friends share a laugh between each other and throw glances at him, expecting him to laugh along it seems. Ingrid’s body tenses next to Deidre but she’s too nervous to say anything further. It’s not like she didn’t want to have these experiences. Ray Wheeler is caring but he wouldn’t tolerate a daughter that was less than perfect. Perfect angel with perfect grades and a perfect attitude—she wants to try different but doing that is easier said than done.

Tatum’s friends nudge each other but Tatum nods earnestly.

“Oh, sure!” he answers. He pours some unholy blend of expensive alcohol and mixer in one cup, then makes a mocktail in another cup. He hands off their drinks with a flourish. “So how’s the east coast treating you both?” He shoots a quick look to his friends and gestures at the girls. “I mentioned Ingrid’s from LA, yeah?”

One of his friends looks up. “I bet everyone ask if you’ve met famous people all the time.”

Ingrid shrugs “It’s not a big deal. You all have probably met more of them than me.”

“I hung out with Nathan Sterling and Poppy Min-Sinclair on my dad’s yacht earlier this year,” Tatum’s glasses wearing friend says. He shrugs nonchalantly. “You know he’s trying to get in here? Kind of a lame move after everything he pulled at that other school but it’s whatever.” He nods towards Tatum. “Didn’t your mom have Bianca Sandoval over?”

“Er, yeah.” Tatum laughs a bit. “Poppy Sinclair though? How’d you make it out of that one?”

His friend shakes his head. “She wasn’t really interested in talking and I wasn’t really big on listening. Anyway what’s up with you, Deidre? You meet anyone cool in LA?”

“Uh, not really…” She takes a small sip of her drink.

The guys remain silent for a beat before Tatum jumps in. “So…uh… You been anywhere fun this summer?”

“Mostly bouncing between my parents’ vacation homes,” Ingrid answers. She offers a sweet smile to Tatum, who perks up immediately. “Nothing too exciting though. Been to Monaco once, you’ve been a million times.”

It’s a conversation that drones on, quite literally dragging its feet across the marble floors. At first, Deidre thought Ingrid would flash a pretty smile, maybe flirt a little. It takes a moment but she starts piecing it together soon enough.

One of the boys asks a question and Ingrid gives a nonchalant answer. Instead of elaborating, she reroutes the conversation back to the boys, essentially handing them the next subject and the floor while she takes ginger sips of her drink.

Suddenly it makes far too much sense how Ingrid knew so much about the kids at Mar Vista. Give them an inch and they’ll run six miles with it. She learns about them and they learn what they think they know about Ingrid. Keeping up with the conversation gets increasingly difficult for Deidre but Ingrid always finds a way to swerve it back around to the guys so they can yammer on about their dads’ possessions and their mothers’ niche businesses.

It’s so drab despite the affluence dripping from their words and gleaming in the low light of the house. Deidre looks around at the many faces slowly rocking and grooving to the beat, or rather what they think is the beat. Couples sway together and drunken kisses are swapped. She downs the rest of her drink and turns, freezing on the spot.

Tatum’s friend—Brandon—the boy with the glasses and one year of experience with the mechanical engineering program under his belt—looks directly at her with something in his gaze she’s sure she doesn’t like. Like he clearly wants something from her that she’s not ready to give.

“Excuse me,” she says, squeezing past Ingrid.

She’s not too proud to admit she’s running. She’s certainly not too proud to admit that she’s out of her element here. It’s hot and starting to get a little rank. Someone is definitely smoking weed, or maybe a lot of people are smoking weed. Alcohol, too much expensive perfume and cologne—

A boy wretches in the corner of the kitchen and her face twists in disgust. All over the floor, completely missing the garbage can and it…it’s covering his shoes…

Deidre pushes past a couple of girls crowding the back door and ignores their moaning.

Outside smells good. Outside feels good. Fresh air and plenty of space to move around. There are chairs strewn across the patio as if they’ve been haphazardly thrust to the side save for one. A boy sits in it, head bowed and broad back facing the door. He doesn’t move for a while though the muted light of his phone shines bright in the night.

Deidre takes a step forward, head tilting and arms wrapping around herself in the cold. The wood must creak underneath her feet because the boy turns around and hits her with a look that almost scares her. It isn’t that he is scary looking—he just seems unapproachable. Thick brows draw tight and dark eyes linger on her cautiously like he’s trying to figure her out before she can figure him.

“Uh…” she stammers. She takes a few more steps forward and doesn’t take her eyes off him as he follows her. “Sorry, I’m just—I just needed some air for a second.”

She meekly drags one of the chairs away from its plastic brethren and sits down in it. There’s a good few feet of space between her and the boy.

He shrugs and returns to whatever is on his phone.

A few minutes of silence pass between them and she knows she’s blown her chance at making new friends. Tatum and Brandon seem like alright people but she knew Langston was going to be a test of all kinds. Wealth oozes from every corner of this place. Prestige and ladder climbing is not just about who you know, it’s who your parents know and have Tuesday brunch with. Ingrid chases a dream of being a doctor and all Deidre ever wanted was to bury her head into mechanics, taking things apart and putting them together again. She’s lost count of how many small appliances she’s broken and fixed. Her father hated it but he never stopped her either. She was smart and he refused to stifle her.

It’s why he always stressed twice as hard for half as much. People have been underestimating her since the day she was born but she never let that stop her from pushing herself. Being STEM and Black and female—she’s a nightmare and she’s been ready to haunt some prestigious minds for a minute.

But first, she’ll have to survive her first frat party and she’s already desperate to go home.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Deidre glances at the boy and he’s looking at her out the corner of his eye. “You keep sighing like you don’t want to be here.”

Part of her deflates.

“It’s not my crowd,” she answers. Her eyes rake over him again—dark shirt and regular blue jeans, there’s a jacket hanging on the back of his chair and she’s almost certain that it’s leather. “How long have you been out here? You don’t seem too keen on being here either.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment and she wonders if he’s lost interest in the conversation that quickly. Eventually, he sighs. “I’m here because my roommate is an asshole.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further.

“He’s inside?” she asks.

“She’s at home. There’s a chick she’s been talking to all summer.” He puts his phone to sleep and crosses his arms. “I’m just waiting for her to text me.”

It takes a long few minutes for her to understand it and then her face heats. She hadn’t gotten around to discussing roommate etiquette with Ingrid. There’s so much shit she’s already forgetting.

Deidre fiddles with the edge of her skirt and looks away.

“So if you don’t want to be here, why stay?” she asks.

“Why do you?”

She rolls her eyes.

“My friend’s inside.” She hopes it doesn’t sound weird coming out of her mouth. Twenty-four hours and she’s still in disbelief that Ingrid Tran Delaney is now her friend. “She’s talking to a guy, I guess.”

“You guess? Seems like that kinda thing would be pretty straight forward,” he says. Slowly she’s starting to feel like coming out here was a bad idea. Still better than being inside with Tatum and his friends, but not by much.

“She’s making connections, so she says,” Deidre corrects. “And I’m pretty sure I blew my chance at doing the same.”

She looks back at the boy and he’s just staring at her—

Through her, actually. She lets her eyes roam his face a bit—kind of boyish despite his height with the only sharp angles on him sitting prominently in his cheeks. The lights from inside the house shine on golden skin but doesn’t quite reach those piercing eyes. She opens her mouth looking to chew on her lip but remembers the dark lippie sitting there. He starts looking at her—really looking and it occurs to her that he’s not seeing her the same way Brandon did.

The boy seems cautious. Almost like he can’t trust that she’s just an awkward girl having an awkward but normal conversation. He leans back in his seat.

“Something worth having is something you have to take for yourself,” he says. “You can’t wait on some silver spoon toting douchebag’s go ahead. Most of these types will walk all over you without hesitation.”

The corners of her lips quirk. “Basically Mar Vista all over again.”

“Hey, you made it this far. Langston doesn’t even throw a backwards glance at average students so don’t knock what you’ve got,” he says, turning back to his phone.

“Thanks, um…” She looks pointedly at him and he just stares back. After a moment, he rises to his feet and grabs the jacket hanging on the back of his chair.

“Nope.”

The silence that follows feels like a punch to the gut.

“No…?” she slowly says.

“No need for it.” He slips the jacket on and zips it up. When he glances back at her, she slightly shifts away. “Go find your friend. I’m getting out of here.”

Before she can call out, he turns heel and walks off the porch into the night. People dodge out of his way pretty quickly on approach and she realizes that he walks tall, undeterred.

A few long minutes pass before she makes her way back through the house and back at Ingrid’s side. She shares a small smile and grabs Ingrid’s hand. Tatum regales another story of something his parents did but he had nothing to do with and all Deidre can think about is that weird boy with the leather jacket.

[septiembrre]

24 for the kissy prompts pls!

Let’s run away together kiss, @sothischickshe thanks for the prompt, boo <3

-

When Beth slept with Rio again, it was on a one-last-time basis. She was convinced she had built it all up - the sex, the headiness of it all, the tenderness, how good it was.

She was sure she was viewing those orgasms through a haze of nostalgia, rose-tinted glasses. It had been a time when her newfound power was dizzying. She was making money, coming up in the world and, suddenly,  at forty, she found herself newly awake. Of course, she was going to have incredible orgasms. She hadn’t had sex in seven years. It made sense. If they were the best orgasms of her life, it was only because the sex of yore was with her blundering husband. This time would be different. Beth and Rio would fuck it out of their systems and they could go back to building their fortunes without the complication of partially resolved sexual tension.  

As she processed the warmth of Rio’s hands gripping her tight, of her writhing, her clit against his tongue, already begging for his cock, Beth became too cognizant of it all - all of the feelings.  Her blood was rushing, her body alight, and her thoughts bounding away from her in all directions. Then, Rio’s hands had fisted her hair, his teeth nipping at her pulse. He moved back inside her, was everywhere as if he had never left. Her hands had clenched against his neck, traced the scars she gave him last year, and for a time Beth stopped thinking.

Afterward, as she was finding her bearings, her breath, Rio brought his fingertips to trace the shape of her face. His hand dipped from her temple to the dimple in her chin - and seemingly despite himself, he kissed her. Beth, blanketed by the familiar softness from that sunny afternoon in her bed, the thrill of having his complete, unwavering attention, acknowledged that she was completely besotted, just like the first two times. She was as nervy as the grocery store robbery, as powerful as standing in the dealership and misdirecting the FBI, as boss as one-upping the very man in her bed. It was as perfect as the first time they kissed.

She could never let him know.

After some time, they shook off the spell. They cleaned up. They put on their clothes. They turned away from each other with one last tentative glance, a nod, and Beth went home. She buried herself in her responsibilities and at night, she came on her fingers letting herself think of him.

A week later, he showed up at her house. It happened again.

Then, again. And again.

It swelled from something Beth had convinced herself was sporadic, an anomaly, and evened out into their rhythm. Rio was in her life, in every way - and still, the moments between them burned. Their resilient spark kindled and the deadlock broke.  They weren’t quite dating - but they were undoubtedly partnered.  It thrilled her. He charmed her. Beth had never known what it meant to be in love, and for the first time, she was letting pieces of her that she had buried deep inside be known.

One afternoon, at the shop, Rio tugs her onto his lap. She’s been troubleshooting a kink with the printing press while Rio typed away on one of the work tables. He had turned it into a makeshift desk while he kept her and sometimes Annie and Ruby company as they printed. He noses down her neck and she’s starting to rub against him, when he says, “Let’s go on a vacation.”

Beth smiles against his temple, playing along, “Mmm, where? Fiji? Bora Bora?”

Rio leans back, squinting at her. “Damn, darlin’. Not unless you want to spend half our trip gettin’ there.”

She laughs, “Then what? You’ll bring me to Legoland with you this time?”

Rio scoffs and rolls his eyes. “The way this works, we can get away for a week and a half, two weeks tops.”

She eyes him and realizes he’s serious. Her mind goes blank and then unbidden memories from her life before surface. The first time Beth had been on a plane was a trip to Disney with Dean’s family. She had been in her first trimester with Emma, furiously trying to soothe a five-year-old Kenny and chubby-toddler Danny.  It had been her in-laws’ idea. They had insisted on staying at the park’s resort and the whole trip was nightmarish from beginning to end. She was still in the throes of morning sickness and on full caregiving duty to keep the boys from getting too fussy. Her mother-in-law helicoptered her parenting throughout the trip and Beth was suffocated by the responsibility of making sure the children stayed clean and tidy for family pictures. Memories of murmuring, exhausted, to Dean that their children were too young to remember the whole charade, dominate her associations of that trip, and traveling overall to this day. 

Besides the vacations to Disney with Dean and the kids, Beth had gone on trips within a reasonable driving distance of Detroit. They had spent school breaks on the shores of Michigan, in New York one Christmas.  Once the kids were older, there were the yearly trips to Chicago, Indianapolis, and Toronto. She had been to Nashville once with Ruby and Annie, a girl’s trip, in between bouts when Sarah was better and a moment when Annie was flush with cash.  

Beth doesn’t know what to ask for.  In conversations like this one, she feels how different her life has been from Rio’s, and she doesn’t know where to step. Flustered, she pivots. “Where do you want to go?”

“It don’t matter much. Somewhere with good food and a five-star hotel where I can keep you naked.”

She laughs, excited, and a little nervous.

“We could go to… Montreal?”

Rio grins, quick. “Nah. Not yet. I go to the jazz festival there, every summer. We’ll go together this year, but I want to go somewhere sooner.”

Beth’s mind fritzes out for a few seconds, considering the possibilities.

“Where else you wanna go, ma?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Honestly, anywhere.” He seems to be eying her meaningfully.  Beth tries again, lowers her voice to a purr, “Where do you want to take me?”

He looks away, biting at his lips. “I’ve been wanting to go back to Mexico. I still have a lot of family down there.”

She’s surprised to hear the admission. He rarely brings up his family outside of Marcus or Rhea. But, by now she’s privy to the details of Rio’s schedule and knows he spends many Sunday afternoons with his extended family at his mom's house. “Oh yeah?”

“We used to drive down, spend summers in Guadalajara with my grandparents.” He smiles at the memory. “I still got a lot of cousins in Jalisco. Some of them moved to Puebla a few years back. I haven’t been since before Marcus was born.  I’ve been itchin’ to go back and visit.”  He looks at her as if they’re conspiring. “We can catch a direct flight from O’Hare into Mexico City, spend the beginning of the trip there. We could rent a car and take a day trip to Puebla. Then, we could go to Guadalajara for a few days.  You ever been to Mexico?”

Beth shakes her head.  

“Cool. You’d like it. People there are real nice and the food is bomb - the pozole…” He mimics a chef’s kiss.

“Rio…”

“Hm?”

Beth runs through it a few times in her head and decides to put it out there. “Don’t you think I should meet your family here first?”

Rio’s lips twist and he pulls Beth close against him.  “You want to meet my má?”

Now, Beth’s shaking her head at him. “Yeah. Obviously.”

“My nosy sisters, too?”

“There’s no way they’ve got anything on Annie.”

He laughs. “You’d be surprised.”

Rio kisses her and it makes something shoot down her spine. Could she be any more of a cliché? Her mind starts down a familiar spiral: in her forties, past her prime, boring house-wife. She makes an effort to stop, correct course, and Beth realizes Rio is watching her closely, no doubt, reading her mind.

“Mm-kay. Next Sunday.” Then, undeterred, “But, where do you want to go?”

Beth pauses a moment. Where doesn’t she want to go? She considers what story she’s going to spin so she can get Dean to take the kids without putting up too much of a fight. And then she turns her brain off and starts to imagine the future, and Rio naked, and where he would look good naked. Everywhere, honestly, but- She thinks about his brown skin against crisp hotel sheets, in aquamarine waters where he wouldn’t even have to put on all the clothes Michigan temperatures demand he wear most of the year. She thinks about the bright red one-piece she bought when she was really feeling herself and knows he would love. She thinks about them, in the future, together.

“Somewhere warm and beautiful, with a beach.”

“Oh yeah?” He looks her up and down and bites his lip. She loves it. She loves that she’s finally allowed to love it. “I can picture you, in a bathin’ suit, gorgeous, in a big ass hat.”  He brings his hand up to trace along her collarbone. She’s already wet, and she can feel him half-hard beneath her. “Your tits earnin’ freckles all along the top. Slathering up with spf 300.”

Beth smacks him. “Shut up.”

“What beach, mamí?”

Beth considers what she wants, all the places she’s ever want to go. She considers the possibilities. She takes a shot. “Let’s go to Hawaii.”

He’s nodding along with her, dipping in to kiss her again. “Let’s do it.”

[aggressivelyclueless]

hey @kiinotasha this one’s for you

human!Danny/runaway/pitch-pearl

a handful of regret, a little solace, and a pinch of fluff

i know it’s super late but thanks so much for being patient! the end bit took me like six tries to get it to stick how i wanted

i will also be posting this on ao3 at some point fyi

Winter had officially rolled in that morning.  Amity Park had all but shut down with the snow - after-school activities had been canceled; the highways had turned to skating rinks in the mid-morning sleet; even retailers had begun to close their doors for the afternoon to wait out the worst of the storm.  Before five o'clock, when the sun would have set, the streets were vacant.  Everyone, it seemed, had holed up at home.

Everyone except Danny.  Nevermind the snow - he couldn't stand to spend another minute at the house.  His mother's accusing voice still cut through his mind: you'll never listen to reason, will you?  Look at the facts, Jack!  It's simply not possible!  None of it had been directed at Danny, but he resented both of his parents nonetheless.  December, to him, was the season of hey-Tuck-can-I-stay-the-weekend and please-Sam-I'll-do-anything-to-be-out-of-the-house and if-I-have-to-keep-putting-up-with-this-I'll-die.  When he wasn't home, at least he could hear himself think!

It wasn't fair.  He hated how easily any conversation could slide into animosity, he hated the gnawing misery that crept up steadily from November onwards (and that was if he was lucky - one year the radio stations had all conspired to deliver tell-tale sleigh bells as early as October the twenty-first), and he hated how no one listened whenever he said he disliked the holidays.  It was always oh, but you've got to celebrate something, don't you? or how can you be so sour at such a lovely time of year? or the affronted but surely everyone loves Christmas! as if he'd stricken the event from the calendar simply by wishing it ill.

If only.

So, despite the snow and despite the cold, he'd made his way out to the Nasty Burger in the hope it would still have been open, and in the hope that Sam and Tucker might still be there.  It wasn't; they weren't; and after a moment of overwhelming frustration and despair he'd turned tail and run.  In that moment, he didn't care where he ended up, or how far away it was - all that mattered was that he left his stupid house and his stupid parents and their stupid fight behind.  Forget the snow, the fire in his belly grumbled, forget the cold.  Just run.

By the time he'd run out of breath, he'd made it as far as the bus station out of town.  He had a few bucks on him, but only one line was still running due to the snow.  He didn't care; he took it, ignoring the rough night out there, isn't it? from the driver as he boarded, and collapsed into one of the seats in the back.  He wondered how far he'd really have to go before he could escape the last echoes of his mother's voice.  Even then, as the bus trundled sluggishly through the snow, he could still hear her.

It's not possible, Jack!  Such a feat defies science!  Jack, you can't be that foolish!

How many years of it did they expect him to take?

By the time the bus dropped him off, he was numb.  The doors creaked open, he shuffled out, and the cold bit him anew.  It was dark out now - how far had he gone, he wondered.  The streets certainly looked the same.  Had he ended up a town over?  Three towns?  Ten?  Distance meant nothing; the bus doors closed behind him, and it lumbered off.

He was on his own.

The snow appeared to have let up, although it hadn't quit entirely.  It fell not with icy malice but was fat-flaked and lazy, and the scene before him was silent save for a street-plow that rumbled from the parking lot down the road.

Isn't this what you wanted? to hear yourself think?

His mind began to tick again, and the lonesomeness finally struck him.  He really was on his own, without Sam or Tucker or even Jazz at his side, and the silence of the town seemed to press in on him.  Go on, something in him whispered, you wanted to be alone, didn't you?  How long do you think before they'll even notice you're gone?  Two or three days, maybe?  Or maybe they'll only think twice on the twenty-sixth, after they've wrapped up?

He couldn't bear to think that.  Tears stung in the corners of his eyes, refusing to be dismissed by his palm or the back of his sleeve, and the tightness of pent-up anger gave way in an instant to a cold hard lump of dread.  He really was alone.

Now what?

He turned to the road again.  The bus had dropped him off near the edge of town, it seemed - how far had he really gotten from Amity Park?  Where had he ended up?  He didn't remember which line he'd taken, just that it had been the only one available to him, and he cursed himself out for it.  How stupid are you?  Out of all the days you could have picked to run off, you decided that the best time to do that was in the middle of the snow?  Great going, idiot!

He held his mobile in one hand.  It didn't like the cold; it had been at 66% earlier that afternoon, but had steadily dripped down to 27% within the span of an hour or two, and it skipped to 16% even as he stared down at it.  You know no one's going to be able to come get you, right? said the sharp voice of guilt.  You think even the Fenton RV could handle the roads like this? and that's assuming Mom and Dad quit arguing long enough to even answer if you call home. . .

He had to call anyway.  He knew that much, even as his vision blurred around the edges and tears froze in the corners of his eyes.  He slipped behind a line of shrubs to escape the wind, hit Home, and tried to collect himself as he waited for anyone to pick up.

Come on, please, I'm so sorry. . .

"Hello - ?"

"Mom?  I'm so sorry please don't be mad I need you to - Mom?"

The mobile had died in his hand, but for a desperate moment he failed to process.  "Mom. . .?"

Something in him cracked, and he stared down at the device.  The screen was dark, and failed to respond to his touch, but it felt as if he'd been purposefully abandoned.  Look what you've done.  This is your fault.  What are you gonna do now?

He didn't have an answer for that one.  Don't stay out too late, kiddo, you'll freeze out there!  He remembered his father saying that once, when he'd said he and Tucker were going to go out.  That had been last year, in January after the fights were over and there was enough snow to go sledding.  He remembered, too, that he'd had a second jacket then.

Would he really freeze?

He shoved the mobile back into his pocket.  It hadn't been quite so cold earlier - how long had he already been out?  There had been daylight for a while.  An hour, maybe?  That sounded about right.  It always got dark early in December.  Still, he'd have to find someplace to hole up.  Maybe this town's Nasty Burger, or MacMeaty's - they'd still be open, probably, and they might even have a phone he could borrow.

That, and then he'd find out how far he'd gotten himself from home.

With a basic objective in mind, he set off again.  So long as he was moving, the cold didn't seem so bad.  The storm had relented, at least, and it didn't look to have snowed as badly as it had in Amity Park - but, out of familiar territory, he was lost.  With only one direction to go, he kept along the side of the road in the hopes it would lead him into town.

The road led him through a stretch of trees, all heavy with snow and ice and bowing downwards, and he knew the rest of the town couldn't be too far ahead.  The hazy yellow of the streetlights was cast into the sky somewhere to his left, and as soon as he spotted the path off the main road he took it.  He hardly registered anything else until the pavement gave way to uneven dirt under the snow, and he paused; not city streets but a cemetery sprawled out before him, but he only hesitated for a second before treading onwards, ignoring his own superstitions.  Graveyard, went his mind blankly in an effort to get the word to stick to something.  It didn't.

The breeze shifted suddenly, and Danny stopped.  It wasn't that the snow was going to pick up again - it appeared to have quit for the moment - but something was so awfully and so suddenly wrong that, for one perplexing instant, he was pulled out of coherent thought altogether.

Graveyard finally stuck.

Danny turned about himself.  The only tracks in the snow were his, and without the snowfall everything around him was perfectly still.  Why, then, could he so clearly feel the eyes upon him?  Where were they coming from?  Without meaning to, he cast his gaze downwards - have you stepped on someone? - but could discern nothing from the blanket of white beneath him.  It was bad luck, he'd been told once, to tread on a body at rest.  Had he just done that?  He stepped back as if he had, although he couldn't really tell for sure.  "Sorry," he mumbled, as if it was adequate, and felt stupid.  Look at you by yourself in the dark, apologizing to someone who's already dead, who you probably didn't even step on anyhow.  What, like they're going to care?

Ghosts, according to Danny, weren't real.  That was a fact in his mind.  Both of his parents had been ghosthunters for their entire careers, as far as he was aware, and neither one of them had actually seen one.  If the anomalies did exist, surely one would have been caught by now?

What manifested before him, however, looked very much like how he imagined a ghost to look.  It appeared, suddenly but without a sound, on one of the headstones still visible under the snow.  Its body was cast predominantly in shadow except for two bright green eyes which were most definitely affixed on him.  It was vaguely human-shaped, although Danny had to squint a little to see it; it was peering out at him from behind the stone, or at least that's what he thought it looked like it was doing, and when he stared it flinched back.

Ghost, went Danny's mind, and the sentiment stuck the first time.  It couldn't have been real, and yet it was exactly like every explanation his parents had ever given him about one.  Great.  What does it want?  Do you really have to deal with this too now?

The spirit - if that was what it really was - stared back in equal silence.  Danny hadn't fled; emboldened somewhat, it crept upwards to peer over the top of the tombstone rather than from around the side.  Its body remained mostly in shadow, and only when it moved were the white wisps of its fingers and hair visible against the backdrop of snow.  It grasped the corner of the stone, as if looking over a tall countertop, and was still again.  After a moment of deliberation, it finally spoke: (Lost?)

Danny hesitated.  What could he reasonably expect to tell it - that he'd come out here by himself to get away from his parents and that he couldn't get back home?  Nevermind, for the moment, that this was a genuine ghost.  "What?"

(You didn't run) said the ghost, almost optimistically, eyes still on Danny.  (How come?)

Danny stiffened.  "Hey, wait a sec, what's it to you, anyway?  Are you even real?"

The shadow slumped, and the eyes fell.  (Yeah)

A small part of Danny was surprised at how quickly he'd accepted than answer - then again, he'd been told since infancy that the anomalies were real, and had only really rejected it out of spite for his parents - but that led to the pricklier questions.  If ghosts were real then they were also dangerous (he'd been told that, too, countless times) and he was acutely aware that he was on his own.  "What do you want?  Don't you have anyplace to go terrorize, or is this it?"

The spirit met his gaze again.  (Terrorize?  Why would I - ?)

"Because that's what ghosts do," said Danny, "Probably.  Look, no offense, or maybe some offense, but I didn't come here for you to show up and bug me."

(Then why did you come here?)

"Hey, that's none of your business," Danny snapped, refusing to acknowledge exactly how ridiculous it was that he was in a graveyard at night having an argument with a real ghost, "Go away."

The apparition's eyes flashed.  (Why don't you go away?  This is my spot.  I was here first)

"Fine.  Whatever."  Danny jammed his hands an extra inch into his pockets, shoving the encroaching chill away and turning to stomp across to the other side of the graveyard.  Stupid ghost.

The ghost, on the other hand, seemed to change its mind.  (Wait, I didn't mean it - please come back)

Despite himself - you wanna freeze out here? - Danny turned.

The shadowy spirit wafted up from its place by the headstone and floated closer.  In the air, Danny could make out the suggestion of its limbs, and the white fog of its hands and feet, but even when it faced him he couldn't distinguish any features aside from its eyes.  (Please stay)

Danny wanted to run.  Everything his parents had told him about ghosts was marching through his mind - they're dangerous, kiddo! you don't wanna face off against one by yourself! - and it had finally dawned on him what might happen if he didn't get into town.  Despite that, he found he couldn't run.  The spirit sounded desperate.  Probably because it'll tear you apart as soon as it gets your guard down, snapped the relentless voice of his mother, but he shoved it away.  What if it really was desperate?  What if it needed his help?

What if it wanted to rip him to shreds instead?

The spirit's eyes dimmed, as if perhaps it was thinking about something, and when it asked its voice was slow and careful.  (You're not okay, are you?)

Danny frowned.  "How do you know that?"

(You didn't run) said the ghost, (everyone runs)

"Yeah, maybe both my parents are ghosthunters," said Danny, as if that might ward it off if it decided at any point to attack him, "Maybe you'd better leave me alone."

(You think I'm going to haunt you)

"I'm supposed to think you're not?  I don't know you - didn't know you - ugh, you know what I meant.  You're dead.  I'm not.  Ghosts haunt people.  That's kinda their thing.  Why would you not come after me?  Why are we even having this conversation?  I told you to leave me alone."

The ghost went silent for a moment.  It slunk downwards onto the snow, huddling a little tighter against itself as if wrapping its arms around its knees.  (I guess I thought maybe since you didn't run you wouldn't be scared of me.  I just wanted someone to talk to)

"Don't you have - oh I don't know - ghost buddies or something for that?"

(They moved)

"Moved?"

(On)

Danny bit his tongue.  The loneliness struck him again, just as mercilessly as it had before, but this time it wasn't his own.  All of a sudden he felt foolish - is he really the only one that's lonely? - and he let all his breath out in a prolonged puff.  "You're the only one left here, aren't you?"

The spirit nodded; despite that it only barely held a coherent form, the motion was clear.

"You're lonely."

(Aren't you?)

Danny recoiled as if struck.  Of course you are.  Lonely, lost, and real stupid.  You did this to yourself, remember?  He turned, dashing a palm under his eye as if the ghost wouldn't have seen it.  "Maybe."

(Maybe?)

"Yeah," Danny snapped, although there was little anger he could muster.  "You heard me.  Look at you, asking all these questions - who even are you, anyhow?"

(Just a phantom) said the phantom, glancing back at the headstone from which it had appeared, (name's long gone)

"Just a phantom," Danny echoed, making the spike in his chest twist.  You still wanna just leave him there by himself?  He couldn't do that.  He knew he couldn't.  Nevermind the cold - he wasn't going to abandon anybody that had no one left, even if it was someone who was already dead.  "That's - that's really it, huh?"

(What about you?) the phantom asked, (you're still kicking.  You've got a name, don't you?)

"It's Danny."

(Oh, I like that one) said the phantom brightly, sliding upwards a little, (you promise you'll stay?)

"Yeah.  I mean - maybe.  I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but - I'm kind of in huge trouble.  With everything.  Ugh, I'm so stupid - "

(Tell me about it) the phantom ventured, (I mean, if you want to)

Danny sat with a soft crunch in the snow.  Once it started to come out, he found, it suddenly became much easier.  "I guess I did it to myself.  Maybe I thought I wanted to be on my own, I mean I can't just keep listening to them argue like that, so I left, I thought it'd be easier, maybe it doesn't matter, but now I can't get back and it's so cold and it's my own fault I'm so stupid - "

(I don't think you're stupid)

"Look at me.  I'm sitting here, in a graveyard, in the dark, talking to a ghost about my problems, which are my own fault to begin with," said Danny, one sob coming out instead as a sardonic laugh.  "Sounds pretty stupid to me."

The phantom hesitated.  After a moment it slid over to sit next to him, and its eyes brightened.  (I don't think it counts unless you can't fix it)

"What are you talking about?"

(You're still breathing, aren't you?)

Danny felt like he'd struck a nerve somehow.  "I didn't mean it like that - "

The phantom's eyes turned upwards.  The snow had started up again; even in the past few minutes it had dusted Danny's hoodie with white, and if given another few minutes it might pick back up to the storm that had rendered Amity Park helpless.  The phantom stared for a moment, and the snow paused.  (Ice core) was the only explanation it offered, and its eyes turned upwards in what Danny could only assume to be a smile.

"You did that," said Danny, who was a second slower to process, "How'd you - ?  I didn't know you could do that - "

The phantom nodded slowly.  (Usually, it's only for a few seconds at a time.  Closer it is to the solstice, though, sometimes I get a little leeway.  Longer nights or something like that.  I wasn't gonna question it)

"Huh."

The phantom rose abruptly, turning back and offering one wispy hand to Danny.  (Can I show you something?)

Danny took the hand and flinched.  The sensation was like ice, not physically tangible but piercingly cold, and he was pulled up to his feet as well.  "Where are we going?"

The phantom kept Danny's hand.  It floated higher, pulling him off the ground with it; he yelped, wide eyes darting back up to the shadow in the air, and his grip tightened.  (Don't let go, okay?)

Danny wouldn't dare.  "What are you doing - ?"

The phantom was smiling again, but wouldn't answer him.  They both ascended over the ice-white treetops, and all of a sudden the town opened up below them through a yellow-white haze.  (You said you were lost) said the phantom, (didn't you?  Lost and lonely, same as me.  I wanted to help)

Danny was silent.  His mind had all but ground to a halt - the first time he'd ever seen a ghost, and the ghost had just plucked him up off the ground with no effort whatsoever.  I wanted to help, it said.  Weren't spirits like that supposed to do the opposite?

The phantom turned back to the town beyond the cemetery.  (There's houses over on that side) it said helpfully, pointing with its free hand, (you think one of them's yours?)

"Well, I - " Danny forced his mind back into processing again, once he was very certain he wouldn't fall.  He kept the phantom's hand tightly in his own, knowing that was the only thing keeping him up, and finally cast a glance across rooftops and streets below.  "No," he said, "They're not.  Look, I. . ."

(Oh jeez this is too much, isn't it?  I'm sorry)

"No it's not that - I mean, don't get me wrong, this wasn't exactly what I was expecting to be doing tonight, it's kinda out-there, but - "

(I'm so sorry I swear I just wanted to help)

"Hey wait - no don't go down yet - you really can see pretty far from up here, can't you," Danny scanned the streets below, hoping to spot someplace that was still open.  The cold was really starting to get to him, especially up in the open air - he couldn't quit shivering, and his fingers and nose had gone all but numb.  Even his lips had begun to resist movement, and he had to be careful to articulate when he spoke.  "I came in from that way," he spotted the road the bus had taken when he'd been dropped off, and gestured vaguely downwards.  "Don't suppose you know how far Amity Park is from here?"

(You're cold)

"Well, yeah," said Danny, "But I gotta get home - "

The phantom's eyes widened, and it shook its head.  (Not like that!  Oh, man, you're still kicking, you have to stay warm, I forgot I'm so sorry) the phantom descended, taking Danny down too, and they both landed at the side of the cemetery.

Danny shoved both hands back into his pockets, although they wouldn't warm up entirely on their own.  At least the wind's not so bad down here, and you know where the town is.  You'll have better luck than you will out here, anyhow.

The phantom was unblinking.  (That was my fault.  I should have remembered.  You have to be careful - when you're alive, I mean.  Stuff can happen, I wasn't even thinking about it - )

"Hey, don't freak out.  I'll be fine.  So it's snowing a little.  Big deal."

(Yeah but I don't wanna see you freeze out here, not on account of me, anyhow, you know - )

"Wait," said Danny, and asked before he could stop himself, "Wait is that - that's how you - well, you know - isn't it?"

The phantom didn't answer.  Its eyes slid pointedly away form Danny's, opting instead to stare through the snow-laden trees.  The distant rumble of a street-plow came and went, and the snowfall slowly started up again.

Now you've gone and done it.  Should have kept your mouth shut, idiot.  "I'm sorry."  He let his breath out all at once.  "I guess I shouldn't have asked you that.  Please don’t be mad."

(You're really far from home, aren't you?)

Danny hesitated, but then nodded.  "Yeah.  I am.  I really screwed up this time.  Look, no offense, I get that you wanted to help me out and all, but - I don't think this is something you can just fix, you know?"

(You're having troubles at home) said the phantom, (I think.  That was what you said earlier, wasn't it?  That’s why you came all the way here)

Danny nodded again.  "Yeah.  My parents have this stupid fight every year, and I said I wasn't gonna let it get to me this time but it did anyway.  So of course like some kind of moron I thought maybe getting away from it all would have been just fine - "

(Well, you're the first moron I've talked to in a long time) said the phantom helpfully, (you can't be that bad)

Danny sighed.  "Thanks.  I guess."

(Besides, you don't have to be out here all by yourself either.  I think we both kind of win, right?)

Danny frowned.  "Not sure that's how it works?  If I didn't run away then none of this - "

(Then you'd still be having a bad time, right?  But just at home.  And if you hadn't come out here then I'd still be having a bad time too.  Like I said.  We both kind of win)

"Well.  I mean," Danny gave up.  "Sure.  Yeah."

(And you'd be sad if I left now, wouldn't you?)

"Yeah."

(Then I'm not going anywhere) said the phantom, and its eyes turned up again.  (Consider yourself haunted)

Despite himself, and despite everything that had happened, everything he'd done, and that he was a mess standing at the edge of a graveyard in the snow with a ghost as his only companion a town or more away from home - despite it all, Danny laughed.  Something in him released all at once; perhaps the coil of stress wound one tick too tight and snapped, or perhaps it was the realization that he wasn't on his own, not really, not so long as the phantom hung around, even if it couldn't help him on a tangible level.  Haunted.  It was so succinctly absurd, and so, so good to let everything else fall away.  Before he fully realized he'd meant to, he'd reached over and taken the phantom's hand again.  "Thanks.  I guess I really needed that."

The phantom just smiled back.  (You're really stuck with me now.  How're you gonna get home otherwise?  By yourself?)

Danny was somber again in an instant.  "I don't know.  Buses back to Amity don't start up again 'til morning.  Phone's dead.  Can't even ask anyone to come and pick me up."

(Well) the phantom turned back to the town beyond the trees.  (Hm.  Oh, hey, I wonder if some the gas stations are twenty-four hours?  I think there's at least one.  Maybe they'd have a phone you could borrow?)

"You think so?"

(Yeah.  Come on.  You thought flying was cool?  Check this out) and without waiting for an answer it flew ahead, pulling him through snow and frozen trees and shrubs as if they didn't really exist.  For the moment, they may as well not have existed, and the next thing Danny knew they'd come out in the back parking lot of what appeared to be a Denny's.

Danny turned back to the phantom.  "What'd you do?"

(Shared) said the phantom, (thought it'd be faster than going around.  Don't you think?)

"Yeah, but - " Danny paused, and then tried again: "I don't know, just - warn me next time?  Phasing through solid objects isn't really as straightforward, you know?"

The phantom gave Danny what he assumed to be a half-hearted shrug.  (Okay, but I think the place is a few blocks over from here)

Danny trotted ahead, following the sidewalk around the corner of the building and having a look across the front lot and down the road.  "All I'm seeing is streetlights.  I’m guessing you know this town better than me."  He shot a look back to the phantom, expecting it to take the lead.

The phantom hesitated, but only for a moment.  (The living don't really - you know, you don't see the dead wandering around most times, do you?)

"Wait, what're you getting at?  You think I'm just gonna ditch you from here on out?"

(I'm just saying don't act all surprised) said the phantom.  It was as if it was taking a deep breath; he materialized fully, finally allowing himself a face, and appeared in a simple jacket and black jeans.  His eyes still carried their ethereal glint, but apart from that he appeared human - he shook his head briefly, sending his white hair flying, and then gave Danny a grin.  "I get leeway, remember?"

"You're a showoff," said Danny, who had not known the phantom could manifest so clearly - so that's what his face looks like - and was not about to let him get off easy about it.

"What, I gotta go around looking like an oil slick all the time?  Give a guy some credit, will you?  Besides, you know what'd happen if people saw a shadow like me on the loose?  They might call your parents.  That's what."

Danny's gaze fell.  "Right."

"C'mon," the phantom took Danny's hand as he passed, and led the way into the streets.  Danny noticed, after a moment, that he was the only one leaving footprints behind - he also appeared to be the only one exuding clouds with every breath.  That's because he's not breathing, stupid, he chided himself, duh.  Still, something just seemed right about the phantom, and it wasn't only because it was the only other option to being on his own again.

For the life of him, though, he couldn't place the feeling.

The two of them stood in the parking lot outside the gas station.  Sure enough, the lights inside were still on, and the sidewalk looked to have been shoveled fairly recently.  That was probably for the best; the snow had gotten going in earnest, and Danny speculated it had probably caught up to them from Amity Park where the worst of it had been earlier.  He trotted ahead, pausing with one hand on the door to turn back to the phantom.  "You coming?"

"Yeah," said the phantom, "Just in time, too.  You don't look so good.  Told you you'd freeze."

Danny ignored that last comment, and ignored the numbness from his feet and the tips of his fingers, and pulled the door open.  The single clerk behind the register looked bored, but it wasn't until Danny asked to borrow the phone that either he or the phantom were acknowledged at all.  He took it, giving the clerk one of those awkward-thanks smiles, and took a deep breath.

You know you're gonna have to fess up, and you know it's probably Mom who's gonna answer.

Let her, if it means I can go home.

It only rang once; sure enough, it was his mother.

"Mom," said Danny, daring himself to keep his composure.  Despite his best efforts, his voice splintered and he was crying.  "Mom - look, I'm okay, I just - "

"I promise I'm fine"

"I know"

"Can you and Dad come get me"

"Please"

"No, I'm with a friend"

"Yeah"

"Okay"

"Hi, Dad"

"Yeah"

"Yeah, I'm okay"

"No"

"Okay"

"Love you too."

     - - - -

"Phantom?"

The two of them sat on the curb, watching the snow and waiting for the Fenton RV to pull up.  Danny's mother had said forty-five minutes; his father had promised fifteen.

"Yeah?"

Danny hesitated, knowing he probably wasn't going to get an answer he liked.  "Don't suppose you'd wanna come back with me, would you?"

The phantom snorted.  "You kidding?  Your parents are ghosthunters, man.  You said so.  No offense, or maybe some offense, but like.  Yikes."

"Yeah," said Danny quietly, "Thought so."

The phantom was silent for a moment, but then shifted to lean back on his hands.  "You were right, though.  Earlier."

"What?"

"When you asked how I died."

Danny turned to him, opened his mouth to protest - you shouldn't have to tell me if you don't want to - but the phantom put up a hand to keep him silent.

"It went pretty much how you think it did.  Lemme tell you, dying really sucks.  I don't know if it's like that for everybody, maybe I just got unlucky, but - I just didn't want you to end up like me, you know?"

"Hey - are you okay?"

The phantom turned skyward, doing his best to blink away the tears that dared to creep up into the corners of his eyes, but after a fruitless minute he swiped at them with the back of his wrist anyhow.  "Look at this, you got me feeling stuff, I can't believe it.  I'm almost as much of a wreck as you now."

"Hey," Danny protested halfheartedly, but knew there was little he could say in his own defense.  He really had done it to himself; everything that had happened the whole evening had been more or less directly his own fault. That said, he was glad that the phantom had stuck with him.  He wondered what might have happened if he'd been alone all night - no, he had a fairly good idea of what might have happened, and he didn't really want to find out for sure.  Dying really sucks.

The phantom had recomposed himself, and stood as an excuse to stretch out.  "Hey, s'that them?"

Danny followed the phantom's gaze - sure enough, a double pair of headlights had turned onto the road, visible even through the haze of snow.  He rose to his feet, turning back to the phantom and giving him a final smile.  "Thanks," he said, "for sticking with me.  I guess I owe you one."

The phantom had his arms around Danny in an instant.  The motion was on impulse; it took them both a second to realize what had happened, and a second after that for the phantom to feel Danny's arms around him in return.

 "Don't forget about me, I mean it."

"I won't."

The headlights swerved into the lot, and the phantom faded into thin air.  Danny was alone only for a moment before both of his parents burst out and immediately began to fuss.  He let them; he knew he'd catch heat, but not until they got home, and he had until then to sort everything out.

I wanna see you again, he'd meant to say, but had been cut short, and now it was probably too late.  He wondered, if he came back into town sometime, if the phantom would still be there.  You think he's got anything better to do? said something in him, but that part was at war with the part that insisted why would he sit and wait around? just for you? aren't you a bit selfish to think that?

Was he, really?

     - - - -

The phantom watched Danny go.  Ghosthunters had sit ill with him since the living boy had mentioned them, and he knew he didn’t want to get involved.  Who could blame him, really?  He'd seen the kid off, and made sure he was alright.  Now he could get back to. . .

. . . what, exactly?

Not much.  That was what it amounted to.  The phantom had, for most of the evening so far, been able to fend off the crushing loneliness of death.  He was lucky - very lucky, considering that Danny hadn't fled at the sight of him, and luckier still that they'd gotten along.  He should have counted it as a decent night.  All had ended well.

The empty pit in his stomach, however, begged to differ.

Even if it had just been for one fleeting instant, just then, before he'd vanished into thin air so the hunters wouldn't have seen him, he'd felt alive again.  Maybe it was the solid warmth of a living body, or maybe it was the assurance that, in that moment, he wasn't on his own.

Now Danny was gone, fading with the taillights of the RV as it turned a corner and disappeared altogether.

That pained him.

It pained him - now you're back to the usual, and isn't it horrible? - and it was too much.  He burst into silent tears, alone and unseen in the parking lot of the only gas station in town that was still open.  He'd never see Danny again.

Why didn't you go too?

He wished, beyond anything, that he could have gone, but he knew the hunters would have caught him if he'd dared show his face.  He'd seen them coming, and he'd vanished before they'd gotten so much of a glimpse of him.  Look at you.  You let him slip through your fingers, and you know exactly why.

There were plenty of reasons why.  Ghosthunters was only the first; I've never been out of town; finding him again would be such a long shot; everything I have is here; besides, maybe he'll come and say hi sometime; I don't even know how far it'll be.

Some small voice in his core grew sharp.  You’re making excuses.  You're just afraid to go.  What's keeping you here?

That made the phantom pause.  His grave had never been the most appealing place to hang out, but it was the only thing with his name on it (in theory, anyhow - a gang of vandals had seen to that once a few years back).  What did he have left, when push came to shove?

Why didn't you go?  You're just a scared kid, that's why.  You thought you had it together, didn't you?  Now you've missed your chance, and you get to go back to being alone.  You did it to yourself.

You're a lot like him.

He'd turned down the only living being that had spoken to him in over a decade.  How stupid was he?  He wanted, more than anything, to take it back.

Quit making excuses.

He swiped the last of his tears away, and cast a glance skyward.  Amity Park, Danny had mentioned.  That must have been where he lived.  The phantom had never been there before.  In life, he hadn't traveled much.

Old habits die hard, I guess.

He ascended over the ice-covered trees and drifted for a moment in the air.  From the height, he could see the town below, and he could see the cemetery where his grave and his dusty old carcass lay.  Who needs that old thing, anyway, he thought, eyes tracing the smooth road carved out in white between the trees.  I came in from that way, Danny said.  It wasn't much to go on.

Wonder if I could fly all the way from here?  Never done it.  Might make it.  Might not.

You never know.

This time of year - might get a little extra leeway.

[pynkhues]

It’s officially ~spooky szn~ which means we need a brio Halloween fic, pleaaasee!! Like can you imagine Beth insisting on making costumes for all five kids?? Anyways, even if you don’t have time for this just want you to know that I love your writing and I look forward to any and all fic updates :)

Thank you so much! And haha, happy spooky season, anon. Hope you like it. :-) 

Set in The Centre and Circumference / Domestic Fic universe

“You know, I actually think it looks kind of cool,” Annie tells her, eyes on Beth’s blue-dyed fingers as Beth fiddles with her makeup palette, comparing the shades of skin toned foundation a few shades lighter than Annie’s own. “Like you’ve been finger banging one of those aliens from Avatar or something.”

And just - - god. Beth blanches before she can stop herself, stopping in her ministrations long enough to shoot Annie a look, before refocusing on the task at hand.

“Please never say that again,” Beth says, shaking her head as she throws a dash of grey face paint into her mixing palette with the foundation – gets it all thick and moonish. She tests it a little on her own hand before grabbing her make-up brush, lathering it up and starting on Annie’s face.

“Fine, sorry I’m trying to make your weird blue monster hands less terrifying.”

Rolling her eyes, Beth uses those weird blue monster hands to lay the first layer of ghoulish foundation on Annie’s face. It’s not like Beth isn’t used to it anyway – has dyed enough fabric in her time to know that dying your hands is just an unfortunate side effect. Still, she’s tried everything to get it off – all her tried and true measures, but nothing’s worked, so Beth has resigned herself to the fact that it’s just going to take time.

It’d all been worth it anyway – to see Marcus’ face light up as soon as his eyes had locked onto the Captain America costume. She feels like she’s spent the better part of the month making costumes – dying and sewing and cutting up fabrics, and sure, it’d been exhausting, but somehow not as exhausting as previous years, even with the extra one to make. And god, as weird as it is to think about, she’s pretty sure that that comes down to Rio more than anything else. The second he’d realised he couldn’t talk her out of making them from scratch herself, he’d been more helpful than she thinks even he’d realised – whether that was in organising dinner so she could work on them, or stopping by the craft store, or distracting the kids so she could work, or even just staying up with her, reading on the couch while Beth poured over her sewing machine, taking them both to bed when she stopped making any sense.

“All I’m saying is you could throw something together if you really wanted to come out with us,” Annie says, sucking in her lips when Beth does in instruction, twitching back when Beth paints the make-up hard over her mouth. And Beth knows she shouldn’t be annoyed by this – knows there’s no accusation there, no shame, more just a double check that Beth is really happy for Annie to take the kids trick or treating without her.

It’d become something of a tradition years ago – that Annie would show up and bundle all the kids together and take them out – her endless energy when candy was involved meaning they didn’t turn around until all the kids were dragging their feet, instead of after three or four houses when Beth’s own exhaustion from the lead-up would inevitably start begging her for bed. Annie was forever the Fun Aunt, and Beth was forever - - well, not the Boring Mom, but the Mom Mom. The mom you wanted making costumes, not the one you wanted tagging along to trick or treating and asking if you really needed that extra houseworth of candy, and honestly? Beth was pretty much fine with that.

Anyway, Annie had seemed extra keen this year.

(“With this new neighbourhood?” Annie had said with a scoff when she’d offered. “You know they’re handing out the good stuff, and Sadie deserves every opportunity to gorge on fancy candy as your kids do.”

“Sadie?” Beth asked, arching an eyebrow, and Annie had replied with a shit-eating grin.)

“I’m good,” Beth says now. “Seriously. I have a date with a glass of bourbon, a pizza and whatever spooky movie is playing on TV.”

“You know you don’t have to play Russian Roulette with basic cable anymore, you can actually like, choose your spooky movie now. It’s through this brand-new start-up – I think it’s called - - Netfilm - - no wait, Netflix, I think? Gotta tell you – I think those guys are onto something.”

Beth snorts, getting more make-up / facepaint onto her brush, and opening her mouth to reply, when Emma twirls back into the dining room, her golden dress billowing as she moves. She comes to a stop in front of Annie and Beth, who are sitting opposite each other on the same side of the dining room table – their chairs turned to face each other, the tools of Beth’s day – make-up, sewing kit, hot glue gun, curling iron, sprawled out across the table beside them.

“Mommy, I can’t find my tea set,” she says with a pout. “I want to take Mrs. Potts.”

Emma’s Belle costume from Beauty and the Beast had come together surprisingly well – or not surprising, Beth corrects herself, remembering Ruby’s words earlier that day (“What? Something you made looks amazing? Shocker. You gotta learn to own your talents, B, seriously.”). She’s good at this, after all, and she already had the fabric templates from Emma being Anna from Frozen last year (although Beth had added a few more layers to the Belle skirt to give it volume).

“I think it’s in the playroom, honey,” Beth says, and Emma darts out of the room in a puff of glitter hairspray and gold satin. Turning back to Annie, Beth grabs a small sponge, finds the bruise-purple eyeshadow she’d set aside earlier, only to blink at the look on her sister’s face.

“Okay, so, please remind me why we were robbing grocery stores when you can do that. That costume is - -” Annie kisses her fingers, and Beth grins, batting her hands away from her mouth.

“You’re going to smudge your make-up.”

Which wouldn’t be ideal, Beth thinks, shifting back in her seat. It’d be good to get the kids out of here – Annie’s the last one after all. Beth has already put the finishing touches on Kenny’s Hopper costume from Stranger Things (fake beard and all), Danny’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle one, and Jane’s, which was - - weird, to say the least. Or - - maybe not. The shiny-obsessed crab from Moana feels pretty on brand for her. Hell, she’d even put together Sadie’s - although deciding to go as Karl Marx meant it mostly only entailed getting him a suit which Annie had done, and finding the right wig and faux beard which fell strictly in Beth’s jurisdiction.

At the thought of Sadie, Beth glances out of the dining room, down into the living room, where he’s helping Danny play Jacks (Glenvale Elementary has a Retro Games Club, which is intensely sweet, but also makes Beth feel about a million years old. It’s not like she played Jacks, but she knew what it was.)

She’s pulled from her thoughts by the front door springing open, and she knows who it is from the delighted reactions on the kids’ faces more than anything else. Doesn’t see him though until he steps light-footed through the living room, carrying the seven plastic, pumpkin-head candy buckets and an enormous bag of ghost-shaped candies – each individually wrapped for any trick or treaters they might get tonight. She sighs in relief, mouthing a thank you as Rio spots her, tilting his chin up in acknowledgement. God, she can’t even believe she’d forgotten to pick them up in the stress of finishing the costumes.

Leaning down to fist bump Sadie, then Danny, Rio promptly gives Kenny the pumpkin buckets, directing him to pass them out to the other kids before they head out. Darting over into the dining room, Rio moves easily into Beth’s space, leaning down to give her a quick kiss that makes her blush despite herself, before glancing over at Annie, who’s zombie hillbilly look is almost complete.

“Thought you said your sister was wearin’ a costume?” Rio asks her, forehead furrowed in faux confusion, and Beth bites back a grin, rolls her eyes a little as Annie yanks out her prosthetic teeth to scoff.

“Funny,” Annie says with a snort, scowling over at Rio. “You should take that act on the - - wait. Was that a dad joke?”

Her jaw briefly hangs open, and Rio huffs out a laugh, adjusting his grip on the bag of candy in his arms and heading into the kitchen, away from them. It’s enough to make Annie surge up in her seat, briefly checking the kids aren’t listening before whisper yelling:  

“Don’t give up your day job as violent gangleader, I think your career in comedy is lacking!”

Rio just waves an arm out at her, jogging over to where Marcus and Jane are sprawled out on the kitchen floor, colouring in an enormous haunted house picture Beth had picked up from the PTA. They grin as they see him, and Rio ruffles Marcus’ perfectly quaffed Captain America hair just to make his son gasp, and then immediately starts laughing as he gets his first real look at Jane’s blinged out crab costume. Red cheeked and outraged at Rio’s response, Jane opens her mouth to yell, but then Rio’s swinging her up into his arms, rocking her around, making her cackle like a little lunatic, and just - -

Beth exhales happily, turns back to Annie only to pause.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Annie says, then shrugs, smiling. “Your face. Weirdo.”

“What?” Beth repeats, rubbing at her cheek, like there might be something on it, but she knows whatever Annie saw wasn’t - - well. Beth blushes, dips the sponge back in the bruise coloured eyeshadow and finishes the last one off. “I think I’m done, anyway, so you should probably get the kids out of here.”

“Sure sure,” Annie says knowingly, and when Beth squints at her, she adds: “So you can bone daddy over there.”

“Annie,” Beth groans, a bright flush finding her cheeks as Annie leaps to her feet, grabbing the vanity mirror off the table to check out Beth’s work.

“Not bad, not bad,” Annie says, shoving her prosthetic teeth back in and grinning at Beth in a way that just makes her shake her head, not quite able to hide the affection in her grin. With her messy hair and her pallid skin and her buck teeth and her flannel shirt - - she sort of has the zombie hillbilly look down.

“To the streets, my pretties,” Annie calls, and the kids seem to materialise around her like she’s summoned them, a bustle of energy and attention and joy, and Beth’s grin only falters when Annie leans down and adds: “I’ll text you when we’re on our way back so you can, y’know, hide your shame.”

With that, they’re all out the door and into the bustle of the night.

Beth huffs out a breath, briefly collapsing back into her seat at the dining room table, furiously swiping at her face, the exhaustion of the last few weeks finally catching up to her. Still, it had felt too good, giving them all what they wanted – her four and Marcus and Sadie and Annie too – making them feel so good. She can’t bite back her grin, can’t help but feel the worth in it, even as she leans forwards to start to bundle up her make-up and her craft supplies to pack away.

Only she’s interrupted when Rio suddenly leans over the table in front of her, his body bent as he eyes her off, lips twisted into a soft, barely-there grin. Beth raises an eyebrow at him, her fingers curling around her make-up brush again,

“Sorry, did you want me to do you too?” she asks, brandishing the brush in his face, and Rio rolls his eyes, but grins, pinching the brush from her fingers, grabbing a tissue from her collection to wipe off the last of the make-up. He makes neat, easy work of it and - - right, Beth reminds herself. Sisters.

“You gonna chill now?” he asks her, and it takes Beth a minute to process the words, to lean back in her seat, looking up at him, but then - - she nods, leaning back into her chair at the dining room table, folding her arms over her chest. She looks a little wistfully at the door, that contentedness she’d felt seeing them out of it warming in her belly all over again. But then again - - she wrinkles her nose. 

“At this time of year? Maybe for a week,” she says, her voice dry. “Thanksgiving is just around the corner, after all, and then there’s Christmas, and New Year’s too.”

She’d already found at least four new recipes she wanted to try too – experiments alongside old favourites. The menu for both Thanksgiving and Christmas already half-set in her head.  

“Thanksgivin’, we gonna go to my sister’s place.”

The words are enough to jerk Beth out of her own thoughts, to blink up at Rio, surprise evident in her look, and Rio stares back at her, then away, twirling the make-up brush in his hand.

“Carmen’s always wantin’ to host it, but she’s usually workin’ at the hospital. She got it off this year. Wanted to let her do her thing. Only found out yesterday.”

Beth turns the thought over in her head. It’s not that she’s adverse to it, rather - - she’s just not used to it. Annie’s never wanted to host, and Thanksgiving is the only holiday that Stan’s parents insist on, meaning Beth hasn’t had a Thanksgiving with Ruby since her and Stan were married. And after Dean’s dad died - - well, the expectation was that he’d host it, as the eldest son, and Dean hosting it always meant Beth hosting it, but - - but she’s not married to Dean anymore, she’s with Rio, and all the rules are out the window.

She looks back at Rio, who seems almost a little uncertain, like this wasn’t how he planned on broaching this with her, like maybe he expects a fight, and in the end - -

Well.

“We still have to take something,” Beth says, and Rio’s gaze darts up towards her, filled with a look that he gives her too often – something between amused and annoyed, before it gives way to something that’s just - - just deep and warm, and Beth can’t even begin to explain the feeling it unlocks in her own chest. But then Rio’s flicking the tip of her nose with the end of her make-up brush, and Beth rolls her eyes, going to grab it off him, but he holds it steadily out of her grip.

“I’m givin’ you a cap then, mami. One dessert, one side.”

“There are seven of us,” Beth counters easily. “Plus, Annie’ll need to come, so eight – maybe even nine if she has Sadie too.”

“Then Annie can go buy that nasty ass pasta salad she always does and bring that too.”

“Your son loves that nasty ass pasta salad.”

“He does, and if you don’t think I hold that against your sister, you kiddin’ yourself, darlin’.”

And Beth just laughs, wrinkling her nose, because the pasta salad really is awful, so she figures it’s fair, and her reaction is enough to make Rio boop her nose again with her make-up brush.

“One dessert, one side,” he repeats, dropping the brush back into her make-up bag before flicking off her hot glue gun and her curling iron. “That’s an order.”

And - - well, Beth arches an eyebrow at that, folding back into her seat, staring up at him, still mostly amused.

“An order?”

“Mmm,” he hums, pushing her crafting gear and make-up palettes aside before planting his ass on the table in front of her, kicking his legs out briefly like she’s seen Marcus do, before he’s knitting his hands together in front of him, dipping his head. “It’s a thing bosses do, yeah? Delegatin’. I know you’re allergic to it or somethin’, but - -”

“Last I checked, you weren’t the boss of me,” Beth interrupts, tone a lot less amused now, and Rio just laughs, the sound easy and lyrical in a way that makes her heart leap and also tells her that he fundamentally disagrees with that statement, and Beth rolls her eyes, opening her mouth to tell him all the ways he isn’t, when Rio smacks his hands down on his knees and looks over at her.

“So in all this craftin’ and knittin’ and stitchin’, you get yourself a costume?”

And just - - what? Beth blinks, head reeling back as she eyes Rio off. They’d had only the briefest conversations about Halloween – one that mostly revolved around the kids, or Annie (hell, she’d been surprised by the visible pleasure he’d taken in the prospect of Annie taking Marcus as a part of the Boland kid tradition, but then - - Marcus seems a little more enamoured with Annie than she thinks Rio’s realised). Still, she’d figured it wasn’t really his thing, and she’d been glad for it, particularly since Dean had always insisted on the goofiest, most embarrassing ways of celebrating it.

“I don’t really do costumes,” she says slowly, and Rio arches an eyebrow at her, before pointedly looking behind himself at the stacks of fabric offcuts and the make-up and her sewing kit.

“I mean, for me,” she replies. “Honestly, I just always run out of time, and I can’t exactly just run out and buy something. Nothing ever fits.”

He lowers his gaze to her chest then, reaches out, hooks a finger in the top of her blouse in a way that makes her breath catch. He tilts his head from side-to-side, considering.

“Worse things than a shirt that don’t fit.”

And well – that’s enough to make Beth laugh out loud, her hand finding his wrist, pushing it out of her top.

“I’m not talking about sexy, tight things, I mean like - - buttons that won’t do up and like - - too much fabric in places, and not enough in others and - - okay, you are not hearing me at all.”

Because he’s not, if the hot, amused look on his face is anything to go by, and it figures, she thinks. Guys really don’t get the intricacies of how much women’s clothing has never seen a woman’s body. She hits his leg, and he laughs, head back, and her gaze travels his throat, the long line of his neck, and she really must be tired because all she can think about is how much she wants to lick it.

She shakes her head, cringing a little at herself, before she looks away from him, out across the dining room, towards the kitchen, where Jane and Marcus’ colouring in is still sprawled out across the floor.

“Did you want to dress up?” she asks Rio tentatively, because maybe he does, maybe she assumed too much, but then he barks on a laugh, and Beth jerks her head back around to look at him, wrinkled nose and all.

“Fuck no.”

“You just said - -”

“Wanna see you in a costume. Well,” he laughs hoarsely in a way that pools hot and low in her. “Want to get you into one to get you outta one.”

He hums a little, considering, and it really is incredible, she thinks, a little hysterically, how easily he seems to be able to undress her in every sense of the word.

“Nurse Elizabeth,” he drawls. “You could give me a bath.”

And god - - that pulls her out of any reverie. She knows him sick now, knows him fevered, knows exactly the kind of patient he is, and just - -  

“You would hate that,” Beth says, laughing, and he huffs out a breath, but agrees all the same.

“Hmm,” he tries instead. “Maybe a witch then, huh? Or a librarian?”

Beth snorts, looking up at him, and immediately regretting it. There’s a heat in his look that she’s too used to – but - - there’s something else too, something she can’t place, something that runs deeper, and she shifts a little in her seat, electricity bolting from her knee when he knocks it with his calf.

“Mermaid or some shit.”

“You are not creative with costumes,” she says, trying to lower her temperature, and Rio hums in agreement. The next thing she knows, he’s tugging her up by the arm, and Beth lets herself be tugged, lets him move her between his legs, lets him brush her hair back, lets him unbutton her blouse to her belly button, pull it open enough to press a kiss against the top of her chest.

“Panty model,” he decides, and Beth scoffs – a sound which quickly turns into a gasp when Rio bites the curve of her breast. “Centrefold.”

“You’d hate that too,” she breathes, and Rio laughs.

“Mmm, don’t want nobody else lookin’ at you,” he agrees, and Beth shivers when his hands slip around her back, unhooking her bra with a practiced ease. “Then shit, it’s just pretend, ain’t it? We ain’t us.”

“I like being us though,” Beth breathes, and Rio exhales against her breast.

“Me too, ma. Don’t mean I don’t want to see you in some sea shell bra though, huh?”

And that’s enough to make Beth laugh, to rock against him as he unbuttons her shirt the rest of the way, slips it off her shoulders, and pulls off her bra. He makes a sound in his throat which is just - - so pleased, and it makes Beth keen before she even realises she’s doing it, makes her breathless, makes her shift a little closer, and then he’s sucking a hickey into her breast, his hands groping at her ass, pulling her closer - - so close that his half-hard cock digs into her lower belly, and her own nails are scratching through his short hair, her panties soaking, and god, she thinks, this isn’t fair, how quickly they get here, how much this - -

A yelp suddenly pulls her from her thoughts, and Beth’s head jerks around to find Annie standing in the doorway, her eyes wide and her lips broken into a sort of mortified grin. Beth jerks backwards, covering herself, before changing her mind and throwing herself at Rio instead, poking her head up over his shoulder, using him as a human shield.

“Is this a haunted house, because this is certainly straight out of my nightmares,” Annie says, with a half laugh, and Beth scowls at her.

“What are you doing back here?!” she hisses, and Annie rolls her eyes, striding into the living room and plucking an orange pumpkin bucket off the coffee table.

“Relax, sis, I just forgot my candy collector, not to be confused with your vagina, or like - - gangfriend’s mouth right now, apparently.”

“Annie.”

“I’m going, I’m going, jeez, I thought you were supposed to lighten up when you were getting some on the regular.”

“Ain’t you babysittin’?” Rio asks sharply, hand at Beth’s back, pulling her safely into his chest, and Annie huffs out a breath.

“Yes, sir, I have briefly tagged Sadie in, but I’m going straight back. Right now, in fact. So. Anyway, enjoy your - - this.”

Annie steps back, and Beth glances up at her, her blush only deepening when Annie offers her a pointed thumbs up before disappearing back out the front door. Briefly, Beth hears the chatter of her children, of Marcus and Sadie too – buzzing with excitement still for the night and just - -  

“Oh my god,” Beth says with a groan, burying her face back in Rio’s shoulder, feeling him shift beneath her, before suddenly leaning back, heaving her up off her feet, on top of him on the table.

“Don’t stress,” he tells her, settling her weight on top of him, his fingers gliding over her thighs, briefly squeezing her ass, and Beth just laughs emptily, cringing, because god, Annie will never forget this, and there’s no way she won’t immediately tell Ruby - - hell, she’s probably already texted her.

“I - -”

“No,” Rio says beneath her, kissing her. “Nuh-uh.”

He kisses her again, longer this time, harder, and when it breaks, Beth blinks down at him, her cheeks still flushed, his hand warm now on her back.

“I will stress about it after.”

“I know,” Rio tells her, letting her push up off his chest, folding her arms across her own as she straddles him lightly.

“I can never sit with Annie at this table again.”  

“Don’t think about it too much.”

“I  - - ”  

“Elizabeth.”

Beth stops, looks down at him – at the length of him, his handsome face, his tapered torso. Her blush briefly deepens, the heat in her resparking.  

“We got maybe an hour and a half til they get back.”

She blinks, surprised, almost flails an arm out to gesture but then remembers that her arms are the only things covering her (and god – her hands are still so fucking blue). She shakes her head instead.  

“That’s a lot of time.”

Making a noise in the back of his throat like he disagrees, Rio lowers his hands, settling them on her hips. He nudges up against her, his cock shifting against her cunt through both their jeans, and really - - it shouldn’t be legal – how much she wants him.

“You ain’t got no costume,” he drawls after a moment. “But you can try me on if you want.”

And well - - that’s enough to make Beth snort. She looks down at him, wrinkling her nose, and Rio just gives her a shit eating grin in reply.

“That was bad,” she tells him, and he hums in agreement, before surging up and closing the distance between them.

“Yeah, but shit, ma. Works for us.”

And well, she thinks, pressing her lips hard against his.

He’s not wrong.

[flowerfan2]

Something Blue - Bound To Be Together Alternate Ending

McDanno, E, A03.  53k in total; 7k this chapter - Something Blue

Author’s note:  Towards the end of season 9 I spent a lot of time thinking about how I might fix or otherwise explain whatever craziness canon was going to give us in the last episode. This story came about as an explanation for a possible Steve and Cath wedding.

It’s sort of an AU alternate ending to the coda series in Bound To Be Together, but can also be read as a stand-alone story. Warning for angst and handwringing, but all in the service of a happy ending.

Thanks to all of you who read and enjoyed this fic, and ranted with me about Season 9.  Writing this and getting to know so many other H50 fans has been a wonderful experience.

Summary: Steve and Catherine get married on a typically beautiful day, filled with all the joy such an occasion should bring. Danny doesn’t feel at all joyful about it, however.  He feels miserable.  Danny agreed to this, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Something Blue

The Kahala resort is undeniably beautiful.  Danny enjoyed it a lot more, however, back when he was watching Grace swim with the dolphins.  Standing up as Steve’s best man as Steve marries Catherine really isn’t any fun at all.

After the ceremony, Danny wanders off to the side, champagne glass in hand.  The happy couple has chosen to bypass many of the classic wedding traditions, so fortunately Danny doesn’t have to give a formal toast, or sit through a first dance, or really do anything at all except stand around and keep a smile pasted on his face.

Danny declines a glass of champagne from a festively dressed server.  He feels vaguely ill, overheated in his rented tux.  Adding alcohol to the mix doesn’t seem like a good idea.  Even the smell of the passed hors d'oeuvres is making him queasy.  

He chats mindlessly with a guest who comes by and gushes about how beautiful the bride is, and how she had no idea Steve was even engaged.  Danny doesn’t know her name – someone who works with Noelani, he thinks – but he can’t get up the energy to care.  Eventually the guest moves away, and Danny risks a quick glance at his watch.

“Thinking of leaving already, boss?” Tani asks softly, coming to stand next to him.  She looks lovely in her gown, a dark green which contrasts beautifully with her hair. “You okay?”

Danny struggles to focus on her words, and find some kind of appropriately convincing response, but he doesn’t come up with much. “Sure, I’m fine.”

Tani tilts her head at him.  No point in feigning cheer with her, her bullshit meter is way too fine-tuned for that.

“I did not see this coming.”  Tani slides in front of him, narrowing her eyes.  “I’m guessing you didn’t either?”

 Danny looks away.  “Steve was gonna ask her to marry him, a few years ago.  She told him later she would have said yes.”  He shrugs.  “Guess it was just a matter of time.”

 “Yeah, but-”

 “Just don’t, okay?”  Danny can’t argue about this right now.  Not with the DJ playing dance tunes and Catherine wearing a freakin’ full-on lace wedding dress and Steve’s ring on her finger.

 “Sorry,” Tani says.  “Really.”  She puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing briefly, her eyes searching his.  “Wanna dance?”

 Danny sees Grace coming towards them, looking ridiculously grown up and beautiful, but with the same look of concern on her face as Tani has on hers.  Rude or not, he’s got to get out of here.  He can’t face his little girl right now.

 “Tani, do me a favor – dance with Grace instead.”

 Tani nods, and turns to intercept his daughter. Danny strides away, across the courtyard and through the hotel.  He almost manages to get away clean, but he’s outside waiting for an Uber when he hears his name being called.

 “Daniel?  Can we talk for a minute?”

 It’s Rachel, of course.  Danny wonders how many people saw her running after him as he made his escape.  How many believed he and Rachel were an item again, when they arrived together, Grace and Charlie in tow.  

 “I’m not feeling well, Rach.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”

 She gives him a pained look.  “I know this is hard for you, but it is what we all agreed on.” Her accent gets stronger when she’s upset, and from the sound of it, she hasn’t enjoyed the afternoon’s charade much either.  “Are you having second thoughts?”

 Danny huffs out a bitter laugh.  “Like you said, I agreed to this.  Guess the joke’s on me.”

 *****

 Danny kicks his feet up on top of his carry-on and leans back in the uncomfortable plastic seat.  It’s late, and LAX is quiet.  He’s got almost three more hours before he needs to get in line to board his connecting flight to Boston.  

 He parted ways with Rachel earlier, after he walked her to her gate.  She’s got a lot more flight time ahead of her, on her way to London for few weeks of vacation.  The kids are joining her but traveling separately, all to enhance the optics of Rachel and Danny going off together for a long-awaited tryst.

 Danny has just managed to doze off when his carry-on is yanked out from under his feet.  He jumps up, instantly awake and ready to dash after the culprit, and sees Steve, carry-on bag in hand.

 “You’re just asking for that to get stolen,” Steve says.  His face seems to be undecided as to whether it wants to smile or apologize.  There’s been a lot of that lately.

 Danny has half a mind to slug his partner, but instead he finds himself moving in close.  Steve’s arms come around him, folding him in tight, and Danny practically goes weak in the knees.  God, he’s a sucker.  But it feels like it’s been ages since he’s been here, since he and Steve last touched with any motive other than keeping up platonic appearances.

 It’s been almost a week since Steve got married.

 They finally board their flight.  They’re not seated together, of course, that would have been too easy.  Steve has managed to snag himself an aisle seat, and Danny’s got a window, several rows behind him and on the other side of the plane.  Once Danny sits down, he can’t see Steve anymore, although he hears his voice as he politely helps another passenger hoist their bag up into the overhead compartment.

 The kid next to Danny is restless, moving back and forth, constantly leaning down to rummage through the backpack he’s shoved under the seat in front of him.  He seems to be traveling alone, busy on his phone, not making conversation with the woman seated on the aisle on his other side.  Danny makes him out to be in his twenties.  He’s got his music turned up loud enough that Danny can hear it through his earbuds, which is supremely annoying.

 Danny tries to sleep, wishing that the idiot next to him would settle down.  Finally the boy gets up to stretch his legs or storm the cockpit and Danny slides into a doze.

 He rouses to the feel of something warm being laid over him and squints open an eye.  Steve is in the seat next to him, and Steve’s sweatshirt is draped over Danny’s torso.

 “You looked cold.”  Steve’s face is blank, which generally means he’s concerned, and trying not to show it.  

 Danny lifts the arm between the seats out of the way and shifts, leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder.  It’s a lot more comfortable than the cold plastic of the airplane window.  He wonders briefly how Steve got the kid to switch seats with him, then realizes Steve traded his aisle seat for a squished middle one.  Next to Danny.

 “Thanks.”

 “You’re welcome,” Steve says softly.  

 They’re both beyond tired by the time they land in Boston.  They make their way to the baggage claim in silence, taking turns watching for their bags and using the restroom.  Danny avoids the mirror, not wanting to look too closely at the bags under his eyes. It makes him feel a little better that Steve looks beat too.

 They hadn’t bothered reserving a rental car, or making any hotel arrangements.  This wasn’t the carefully planned, eagerly anticipated trip that Danny once imagined they’d take together.  

 Steve is standing with their bags when Danny gets out of the bathroom, and they lug them on to a shuttle bus that goes to the airport Hilton.  Fortunately there are rooms available.  Danny wants to make a joke about how many beds they need, he thinks there’s a rom-com moment in there somewhere, but he’s just too tired.

 Their room is sterile and entirely uninteresting but it’s got a bed and that’s all Danny cares about.  Steve mutters something about showering but Danny just strips down to his boxers and passes out.

 Sometime not much later he wakes up and sees Steve sitting on the edge of the other bed, looking lost, and his heart breaks a little. “Hey, come here.”  Danny holds up the edge of the sheet, and Steve lurches over, scrambling under the covers as if he’s worried that if he doesn’t move quickly enough Danny will change his mind.

 Steve’s warm and damp from his shower, and his hair smells like shampoo.  Danny bundles him close and falls asleep with Steve’s arm heavy over his chest, his knees pressed up against Danny’s thigh.  It’s the most comfortable Danny’s been in weeks.

 Danny’s sense of time is all messed up, but they manage to sleep and doze and sleep again until it’s more or less morning. Danny showers and shaves and then goes downstairs to see what the rental car options are while Steve takes his turn in the bathroom.  

 Finally, after another shuttle bus and a relatively short wait at the rental car counter, they’re in their car and on their way. Steve insists on getting a Jeep. “There are mountains in New Hampshire, Danny,” he explains.  Danny thinks that Steve has never been to Colorado, where he might actually see some real mountains, but that’s a trip for another day.

 They drive sluggishly through Boston rush hour traffic, which doesn’t let up for over an hour.  Steve mutters in annoyance the whole time, and Danny wants to pat himself on the back for not saying “I told you so” about how the Honolulu traffic everyone complains about back home is nothing compared to East Coast traffic.

 Danny can see the U.S.S. Constitution and the Bunker Hill Monument as they crawl along Route 93.  He thinks that Steve would enjoy touring the city, checking out the Navy Yard and the museum, if they were here for that.  Steve’s never been here before.  It’s one of the reasons they picked New England for this – the landscape bears little resemblance to anywhere they’ve been together.  No beaches and lush tropical greens, no desert, no Montana plains.  Someplace new.

 By the time they cross over into New Hampshire, Danny’s stomach is growling.  They pull off the highway and find a diner, where they order giant plates of eggs and pancakes.  It’s not nearly as good as what they usually get at their favorite Honolulu breakfast place. And there’s no coconut syrup.

 They’re about to pay the bill when Steve gets a look on his face (it’s what Danny once called the constipated face, but he’s since decided that’s too kind).  “I know things have been rough lately-”

 “Not now.”  Danny cuts him off.

 Steve looks momentarily startled, then nods. “Okay.”  And who says Steve hasn’t learned anything over the years?  At least he’s figured out that prompting Danny into yelling – or crying, he’s not sure which is more likely – in the middle of a sticky diner in Londonderry isn’t the best idea.

 They turn the radio on when they get back in the car, and Danny fiddles with the dial, trying to find something entertaining enough but mostly devoid of meaning.  It’s hard to avoid love songs, though, or breakup songs.  Luckily there aren’t many “you married your ex-girlfriend and pretended we didn’t exist in front of all our friends and family” songs in the top 40 these days.

 When they get close to the town where they’ve reserved an airbnb they stop at a grocery store.  Danny doesn’t tease Steve when he fills the cart with enough steak and hamburger to feed the team for a week, just makes sure they buy charcoal, too. And ice cream.  The mood he’s in, he needs lots of ice cream.

 They drive down a long, narrow dirt road to get to the house.  The place isn’t much to look at from the back, but when they go inside there are windows stretching up two stories with a stunning view of a sparkling lake.  The first floor has a kitchen open to a living room with two comfortable couches and a dark leather armchair, and a dining table off to the side.  Upstairs is a landing that looks out over the living room, and past that are two bedrooms and a bathroom.  Nothing fancy to take away from the beauty of what’s outside, but all very welcoming in woodsy shades of green and brown.

 Danny opens the sliding doors to the deck, taking in the promised grill (which is, of course, gas, no need to have bought all that charcoal).  He imagines coming out here early in the morning, drinking his coffee while the sun comes up over the lake.

 There’s a small yard with a canoe pulled up out of the water.  An aluminum dock stretches out away from the shore, with a speedboat tied securely to the side.  Nice toys.

 Steve hadn’t let him see any of the rental details, including the price.  Said it was his treat.  Danny had wondered if it was unfair, at the time, but he no longer has a problem with it. It’s a little petty, but Danny hopes it’s even more expensive than he guessed.

 He goes back inside to help unpack the groceries, and sees Steve with his cell phone to his ear.  “It’s Cath,” Steve explains.  Danny wants to snatch Steve’s phone and hurl it across the room, but he refrains.  Who knows, maybe Steve and Cath are having a critical conversation about their new wedding china.

 Needing to put a little space between himself and whatever is so important that Steve still needs to be talking to Catherine, Danny goes out onto the deck again, and then down to the yard.  He walks to the end of the dock and sits down, taking off his shoes so he can put his feet in the water.

 The lake is cold and dark.  Nothing like the warm, clear turquoise of the Hawaiian ocean. Danny takes a deep breath of the pine-scented air, and, remarkably, misses the salt smell of Steve’s beach. It figures that he’d get attached to that damn place.

 At least Catherine hadn’t insisted on getting married at Steve’s house.  Danny didn’t think he would have been able to go through with it, if she had.  And despite his current state of misery, he knows there were good reasons to go through with it.  

 When Catherine called a few weeks ago with a lead on one of the world’s most wanted terrorists, Danny was more than willing to help her out.  But then she revealed that she wouldn’t be able to get close to this guy unless she had the status of a married woman – and that being married to a particular former Navy SEAL would entice their target into thinking he could get something truly valuable from Cath.   Danny had thought for sure that Steve would refuse.

 Obviously, he didn’t.

 To be fair, Catherine didn’t know – still doesn’t know – the true nature of Steve and Danny’s relationship.  And although Danny is pretty sure that Five-0 suspects, he and Steve have never come out and told them, so they thought that the team would buy it.

 And they did, as far as he can tell.  It hurts, frankly, how easily they bought it. Despite everything their friends have seen between him and Steve, when Catherine showed up, everyone accepted that she was Steve’s soulmate, some magical creature who could waltz back into his life and be automatically adored.  Sure, the wedding was put together quickly, but hey, look at those lovebirds finally getting their act together, how wonderful for them, let’s all help throw them a party to celebrate…

 It makes Danny ache.

 Only Rachel was let in on the secret, so she could help with their cover.  It made sense - he and Rachel have been getting along well lately.  Even Steve worried that they might get back together. So in the week before the wedding they played up the Rachel and Danny angle, Danny dropping her name into conversation more frequently and making sure everyone heard about a successful romantic dinner at Rachel’s favorite Honolulu hot spot.  

 Danny drew the line at a double date with Steve and Catherine, however.  He had to retain some measure of dignity.

 The pièce de résistance was Steve and Danny scheduling their honeymoon and vacation with their respective significant others at the same time, to give the rest of Five-0 a chance to really take charge of the team, fly without a net, etc. etc.  Danny owes Steve $50 for that one, he’s still not sure how Steve got Tani to think it was her idea.  

 In theory, in the time that they are away, Cath will accomplish her mission, and the farce can be revealed.  No harm no foul, life goes on.

 Except Danny feels so goddamn awful, he’s forced to rethink the whole “no foul” business.

 Danny pulls himself out of his thoughts as the dock vibrates with Steve’s footsteps.

 “Mind if I join you?”  Steve speaks in the same half-casual, half-tentative tone he’s been using for the past week or so.    

 “Sure.”

 Steve sits down next to him, dangling his bare feet in the cool water next to Danny’s.  Danny wonders how things would be different if this were another kind of trip - if Steve would be splashing him, poking him, shoving him off the dock. Following him in with a sleek dive, or a raucous cannonball.  Wrapping his arms around Danny in the water, dunking him under and kissing him senseless when he came up.

 “I really am sorry,” Steve says.  Some kind of bird hoots in the distance, as if for punctuation.

 “Don’t apologize,” Danny responds.  He’s been over and over this in his head, and it’s not Steve’s fault.  “I agreed to it.”

 “But I’m still sorry.  I hurt you.  You can’t tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

 There it is, then.  The truth of it.

 “Yeah,” Danny says softly.  “You did.”  He leans his head on his hands, elbows on his knees.  “Or, really, the situation hurt.  It wasn’t you.”

 “That’s bullshit.  Situations don’t just happen.”

 “That’s remarkably perceptive of you,” Danny snaps, more sharply than he intended.  He lets out a long breath, picking up his head to stare out over the lake.  There’s a tiny island not too far away, trees sticking up haphazardly all over it, like Steve’s hair first thing in the morning.

 “I should never have said yes to it,” Steve continues.

 “<i>We</i> should never have said yes to it.  But we did, and here we are.”

 “And here we are,” Steve repeats quietly.  

 More long minutes go by.  The goose or whatever it is hoots some more.  Danny flicks a gnat away from his face, wishes he was wearing his sunglasses.  

 “I’ve gotta ask you something, Danny.”

 “Yeah?”

 “Do you want to fix this?”

 The question takes him by surprise.  “What?”

 Steve looks at him sadly.  “Did we screw it up too much, or do you want to try to fix it?”

 Danny hears roaring in his ears.  “Did I not just fly halfway across the planet on some lame-ass excuse just to do that very thing?  What do you think we’re doing here?  What the hell is wrong with you?”

 “Then why won’t you talk to me?”

 Danny draws in a breath to yell some more, only no words come out.  He shakes his head.  “This is the weirdest conversation.”

 Steve nods.  “Kind of a role reversal, I get it.  But Danny, to be clear, I do want to fix it.  Us.  Just so you know.”

 Despite the fact that this should be obvious, it’s still good to hear.  Danny feels himself relax a little bit more.  “I figured as much, with all the eyelash fluttering.”

 Steve snorts.  “I do not flutter my eyelashes.”

 “You totally do.”  

 Steve scoots a little closer to Danny, leans up against him and rests his head on his shoulder.  Danny leans into him in response.  He can’t help it, no matter how upset he is, his body wants to be close to Steve.

 “Listen,” Steve says calmly.  “I’m going to go back up to the house grill some steaks, put some beer on ice.  We’re going to have a nice meal, watch some tv, and crash early.  Sound good?”

 Danny nods.  “Yeah.”

 “But tomorrow, we’re putting on our big boy pants and facing the music.  No more moping.  Deal?”

 Danny wants to be annoyed – feelings don’t work that way – but it’s actually a relief to think there’s an end to this misery. Maybe super-SEAL Steve can just make it so.  “Yeah. Deal.”

 Danny plays around with the television while Steve grills, and puts on a documentary about the making of Game of Thrones. They eat sitting on the couches, beers on the coffee table, and argue about whether or not the writers treated Dany the way she deserved, and whether Bran could be a good ruler.  Their banter almost feels normal.

 After dinner they half-heartedly watch a few episodes of a cooking show, and then Danny cleans up while Steve goes upstairs with their luggage.  Steve’s coming out of the shower by the time Danny goes upstairs, and he goes in to take his turn.  The bathroom has a skylight in its slanted ceiling, but it’s dark now, and there’s nothing to see.  

 Steve’s in bed when Danny comes out, sitting up with his tablet on his lap.  The bed is a queen, with a green and brown patchwork kind of quilt that Steve has pushed back.  Steve’s wearing sweat pants and a worn Navy t-shirt, and looks about as non-threatening as a six foot tall guy in your bed can be.

 Steve has unpacked their things into neat little piles in the drawers, and Danny quickly changes into his own sleep pants and t-shirt, trying not to feel self-conscious as he drops his towel and pulls on his clothes.  It’s ridiculous, given how many times he’s been proudly naked in front of this man, but things feel different now.

 There’s a rift between them, and Danny can’t seem to shake it.  He thinks back to Steve’s question on the dock - <i>do you want to fix this?</i>   Of course he does.  He doesn’t understand what his problem is.

 Steve reaches towards the light on the night table. “Do you want to go to sleep?  Or read for a  while?”

 “Nah, I’m tired.”

 Steve nods and turns off the light as Danny climbs into bed.  It’s hard lying there without touching Steve, but Danny leaves a little strip of space anyway.  Steve moves, and without conscious thought, Danny flinches.

 There’s a long, awkward moment.

 “I’m not going to do anything you don’t wanna do, Danny.  But you acting like I might… it kinda stings.”

 And doesn’t that pack a punch.  “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to, I’m just…”  He doesn’t even know what to say, so he moves in close to Steve and wraps his arms around him.  

 “I miss you,” Danny says, his face pressed against Steve’s neck, “and I’m mad at you, and I want you, and at the same time I feel sick about the whole thing.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  I don’t know what to do.”

 “I love you, Danny,” Steve says softly. “But I can’t make you forgive me if you don’t want to.”

 “You think I don’t want to?”

 Steve shrugs.  “What do I know?  It seems like it.”

 “I’ll figure it out, Steve.  I promise.”  Danny lifts himself up on an elbow.  He can’t really see Steve’s face, but he cups his cheek, and leans in for a kiss. Steve returns the kiss quickly, letting out a little sound of surprise.

 They exchange gentle kisses for a few minutes, Steve lightly holding the back of Danny’s neck, then Danny pulls away and settles in his usual spot on Steve’s chest, cheek against the soft fabric of his t-shirt.  Steve breathes heavily for a moment, rubbing circles on Danny’s back, and then presses a kiss to his hair.

 “We’re gonna be okay, Danno,” Steve says, more confidence in his voice than Danny has heard in a while.  “We’ll both figure it out.  It’s gonna be okay.”

 *****

Danny is awakened in the morning by the sound of his vibrating phone sliding off the night table and hitting the hardwood floor. He scrambles to reach it and hits answer when he sees that it’s Grace calling.

 “Danno, you lied to me.”

 Danny flops over on his back, glancing at the clock. Seven a.m., which means it’s noon in London.  He wonders if Grace thought she was being considerate by waiting until seven to call him.

 “Grace, it’s awfully early for this.”

 “I think it’s kind of late, actually.”

 Steve has clued into what’s happening by now, and has slid his head over right next to Danny’s so he can hear both sides of the conversation.

 “What exactly are you mad about?”  Danny doesn’t want to give away more than he needs to – maybe Grace is just peeved that Danny isn’t in London with them.

 “The wedding, obviously.  How could you not tell me what’s really going on?”

 Danny sighs.  “Because as mature and grown-up as you are, you actually aren’t eligible to be read into this op.”

 “You can tell me.  You told Mom.”

 “I had to, monkey.  How did you find out, anyway?  Your mom’s a pretty decent liar, I thought she’d be able to stick to the story for at least a few more days.”

 Steve snorts next to him, apparently in agreement about Rachel’s skills at deception.

 “It was you, you gave it away.”

 “I did not.  I never said a thing.”

 “Your face did,” Grace retorts.  “You were so fake and annoying before the wedding, and during the ceremony you looked like you were going to hurl.  You had me worried for Uncle Steve.”

 “For Steve?”

 “Yeah, I figured maybe he got cancer from the radiation, and he had to marry Catherine for the insurance, but Mom says that’s not it.”

 Steve is shaking behind him, muffling his laughter into Danny’s shoulder.  Danny swats him with his free hand and tries to focus on Grace.

 “Your mother is right, Steve is fine, he thankfully does not have cancer or any other similar illness of which I am aware.  And why would he need insurance from Catherine?”

 “I don’t know, it’s a thing people get married for, how should I know?  Mom always said your insurance was crappy, that’s why she tried to keep Charlie on Stan’s.”

 The conversation is veering into territory Danny has no intention of exploring.  “For the record, my health insurance is just fine, and so is Steve’s.” He takes a deep breath.  “Grace, I really can’t discuss this right now.  But Steve and I are fine.  Hopefully I can tell you more in a few weeks, okay?”

 “That’s not fair.”

 “Can I talk to her?”  Steve asks under his breath, pointing to the phone.  Danny nods and hands it over.

 “Grace?  It’s Steve.” Steve rolls over and sits up on the edge of the bed, then gets up and walks out of the room with the phone. Danny is tempted to follow him, but then he decides he’ll just let Steve work his magic.  Grace is much more likely to be satisfied with whatever Steve tells her.  He tries not to take it too personally.

 A few minutes later Steve returns and hands Danny the phone.  He says a quick goodbye to Grace, who apparently needs to get ready to go out for lunch with her grandparents anyway, and hangs up.

 “What did you say to her?”

 Steve sits down on the edge of the bed, looking intently at Danny.  “I told her that I love her and Charlie, and you, very much, and I would never do anything to hurt any of you.  That you are the most important person in my life, and that nothing was happening that you and I didn’t plan together.   I asked her if she could trust me on that, and wait to hear the rest of it for a few more weeks, and she said yes.”

 Danny takes a moment to absorb this.  “You told her that I was the most important person in your life?”

 “Yes, I did.”

 “Come here.”  Danny pulls Steve against him, hugging him tight, and Steve squeezes him right back.  “I love you, you know that, right?”

 Steve nods against his shoulder.

 “I do, Steve.  I love you like crazy.”

 They stay that way for a few minutes, and then Steve pulls away.  “Okay if I go for a swim?”

 Danny scans Steve’s face, but he can’t find any reason to say no, despite the fact that he’d rather keep Steve close. “Sure.”

 While Steve’s gone Danny takes a quick shower, pulls on jeans and a sweatshirt, and heads downstairs to make coffee.  There’s a thin layer of fog over the water, and he can’t see Steve.  It’s not as if Steve can’t take care of himself in a lake that doesn’t even have any sharks in it, but he’ll feel better when he’s back.

 Danny takes two cups of coffee and a towel out to the deck and sits at the table, letting his thoughts wander.  He breathes easier when he spots Steve heading back towards the dock, his powerful strokes making ripples as he goes.

 Watching Steve pull himself up on to the dock and walk towards the shore, water streaming down his body, is a view Danny will never get tired of.

 Coming up on to the deck, Steve takes the towel from Danny with a grateful nod.   After Steve dries himself off (also a great show) they sit together in silence for a little while, sipping their coffee.

 “You know what I’m in the mood for?”  Steve asks, breaking the silence.

 “What?”

 “Pizza.”

 It’s still early in the morning, and Steve never wants pizza, but Danny isn’t about to object.

 “Okay.”

 By the time they get ready to leave the house, they still haven’t decided on whether to get take-out or go to the grocery store for the necessary items to make pizza from scratch.  Danny used to do it all the time with Grace, so he knows they can do a decent job themselves, but then they see a pizza joint that opens early, and they decide to take the lazy way out.

 They still have some time to kill so they walk around the little town for a while, browsing in a bookstore with a surprisingly interesting selection of books about mysteries in New England, and treating themselves to an overpriced pound of assorted gummies and chocolate covered fruit from a candy store.  Danny buys them lattes flavored with real maple syrup, which Steve declares disgusting. Danny kind of agrees, although he’s not about to admit it.

 Finally the pizza place opens, and they scroll through their phones as they wait for their order to be ready.  Danny’s got a text from Grace apologizing for being a pain and sending him a bunch of cute emojis, which do their job and make him smile.

 When their order is called Steve offers to pay – the first time that day, Danny can’t help but point out – and just as he’s digging his fingers into his wallet to extract his money, a ring flies out and clatters to the ground, rolling away towards the door.

 The woman next to them at the counter dives for it and hands it back to Steve.  “Got it!” she announces triumphantly.  “You wouldn’t want to lose this.”

 The tips of Steve’s ears have gone red, but he plays along, thanking the woman and stuffing the ring into his pocket.

 Danny takes the pizza and they walk out to the Jeep. Danny is concentrating on not saying anything, because anything he says is just going to make matters worse. When they get inside, Steve starts the car, pulls out onto the road, and then glances at him pointedly before speaking.

 “Okay, out with it.”

 “What?”

 “You’re dying to yell at me,” Steve says.  “Go ahead, get it over with.”

 “I’m not going to yell at you.  Why would I yell at you?  You haven’t even started driving yet.”

 “Danny…”

 Danny considers his options.  Steve’s right, he’s probably not going to be able to keep quiet about this.  Might as well get it over with or Steve will just keep bothering him about it.  “Just wondering if that’s the same ring Harry gave you to use back in Laos.  Or if you got a new one.”

 A pause.  Danny watches Steve’s face, but he doesn’t give anything away.

 “And that matters… why?”

 Danny shrugs.  “Don’t know.  But you asked, and that’s what I was thinking.”

 “No, it’s not the same ring – Harry took those rings back.”  Steve’s definitely got a tone, and not surprisingly, it’s fairly tense.  “What, do you think I’ve had the rings sitting around my house this whole time?”

 “How would I know?  You never got rid of the engagement ring you got Cath.”

 Steve’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”

 “Well, guess it’s a good thing you kept it.” Which is completely unfair of Danny to say.  It doesn’t even make sense – Steve and Cath just used plain gold wedding rings in the ceremony, as it turned out, although Danny had expected to see the diamond make an appearance.   He had, in fact, driven himself kind of nuts waiting for it to appear on Catherine’s finger in the days before the wedding.  Not that he was looking that closely, or anything.

 It’s only a few minutes’ drive back to the house, although it feels like forever.  When they pull into the driveway, Steve turns off the car and sits still for a long moment, biting his lip.  Finally he turns to Danny.

 “You know, this hasn’t been fun for me either. When I wanted to ask for real, Catherine rejected me.  Then she comes back and wants a wedding, not because she cares about me, but because I’m useful.”

 “You looked like you were having fun, standing up there in your tux in front of everyone, professing your love and devotion.” Danny regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth.  He knows it’s not true, but he can’t seem to stop picking at this scab.

 “Danny, if you think there is anyone I want to be saying those words to besides you, you really haven’t been paying attention.” Steve gets out of the car and closes the door, walking into the house without even a glance back in Danny’s direction.

 Danny leans over and bangs his head against the dashboard.  

 The smell of pizza permeates the car.  It’s not helping.

 Danny’s torn between wanting to give Steve a minute or two to cool off, and knowing that time probably won’t make his fuck-up any less painful.  Taking the pizza with him (it’s not the pizza’s fault Danny is a dumb-ass) he goes inside the house.

 Steve is out on the deck, leaning against the railing.

 “I’m sorry, babe.  I was out of line.  I’m sorry.”

 Danny comes up behind Steve, puts his hands on his shoulders and leans his forehead against his back.  “Please, you know I’m an idiot when I start running my mouth. I’m sorry.”

 Steve turns in Danny’s arms, his face drawn, eyes flickering up to Danny’s and then back down again.  “This hurt me too,” he says, his voice rough.  “Why can’t you see that?”

 Danny feels his heart break.  “I do, I do see it.  I should have seen it before.  I’m sorry.” Danny tilts his head up and kisses Steve, who kisses back with more force than Danny expected, sending a sudden shiver down his spine.  Steve practically attacks his mouth, biting at his lip, clutching tight at Danny’s sides.

 Danny feels Steve shuffle him backwards, until he’s pushed down into a chair, Steve straddling him and grabbing his face with both hands.

 The deck chair creaks and Danny turns his face just enough to get a full breath, holding Steve back when he tries to dive back in for more.  

 “Hey, hey, calm down,” Danny says.  “It’s okay.  It’s okay.”  

 “Danny…” Steve pants out, sounding desperate. “What do I have to do?  Just tell me, I’ll do it, I don’t want to fight anymore.”

 “We’re not fighting.  It’s okay, we’re fine.  I promise.  We’re fine.”

 Steve sags against Danny, still breathing hard. Danny strokes his hands up and down Steve’s back, trying to soothe him.  “This was a dumb plan, okay?  We both know that now, we got the memo.  But the worst is over, right?  No more watching the love of our life marry somebody else, no more having to pretend with fucking Catherine.  That part’s all done.”

 Steve squirms in Danny’s hold, and then sits up, the wrecked look on his face replaced by something decidedly more hopeful. “The love of your life?”

 Danny rocks his head back, embarrassed, but he can’t avoid Steve’s gaze for long.  “Yes, you goof.  You’re the love of my life.  I’ll write it on a pancake if you want.  Now get off me, before I lose all feeling in my legs.”

 Steve complies, lifting a long leg gracefully up and over Danny’s lap.  “You couldn’t fit that on a pancake.”

 “Two pancakes, then.  Or one really big pancake.”

 “Will you butter them for me?”

 Danny accepts Steve’s hand and lets him pull him up out of the chair, his back protesting at the angle.  “How about we reheat that pizza, and save the pancakes for later?”

 *****

The next few days feel almost normal, although it’s downright strange to have all this time with Steve and so little to do. Unlike normal, though, they don’t fill their free time with sex.  It just doesn’t feel right.

 One afternoon they take the speedboat out. Once they get past the little island with the funny trees the lake opens up.  It’s much bigger than Danny had realized, and they cruise around for an hour or so, exploring the little coves and looking for the bird Danny keeps hearing hoot at them.  

 “It’s a loon, Danny,” Steve insists.  But Danny can’t take this seriously, as “<i>you’re</i> a loon” seems to be the only appropriate response.

 They’ve turned off the boat’s engine, just letting themselves drift.  The sun is warmer today, and Steve has stripped off his shirt and is lying back with his eyes closed.  He looks like something out of a magazine.

 “Naptime?”  Danny asks.

 “Yeah, you should try it.”

 “Aren’t you afraid we’ll run into something?”

 Steve sits up.  “I put down the anchor.  How did you miss that?”

 Danny shrugs.  “I was looking for the bird.”

 Steve opens his mouth to say “loon” but realizes that Danny is goading him, and stops himself just in time.  “Come on, come up here with me.”

 Steve is stretched out on the deck by the bow, and he’s got a cushion under his head.  Danny tosses his own shirt below in the little cabin and climbs forward, joining Steve on the deck.  He lies down carefully, shuffling until his head is next to Steve’s.  

 The rocking of the boat is incredibly calming, and the heat of the sun on his skin quickly warms him through.  He runs his fingers over the bumpy surface of the deck. “What if we never went back?”

 Steve nuzzles Danny’s head.  “You’d miss Grace and Charlie.”

 “We could visit.”

 “You’d get bored.  You’re bored already.”

 “Says the man who felt the need to tune-up our rental car yesterday.”

 “It was making a noise.”

 “It’s a car, it’s supposed to make noise.” Danny sighs, poking at Steve’s side until Steve wraps their hands together.  “It’s just nice to be away, I guess.”

 “Didn’t know you liked pine trees so much.”

 “I don’t think it’s the pine trees.”  Danny lifts himself up a little, leans over and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheekbone, his hair blowing down over his face.  

 “That tickles,” Steve responds, cupping Danny’s face to guide Danny’s lips to his own.  “Mmm, better.”

 They make out lazily for a while, and then Steve dozes off, resting his face against Danny’s bare shoulder.  Danny considers ribbing him for falling asleep while kissing, but then decides to take it as a compliment.

 Later that night, as Danny is joining Steve in bed – once again, both of them clad in t-shirts and sleep pants - Danny manages to put words to the elephant in the room.

 “You, um, you don’t mind?  That we’re not-” he waves his hand vaguely between them.  

 Steve shrugs.  “It’s fine.  Besides, for the moment, I’m married.  At least until we file for divorce.”  He doesn’t say it like a joke, more like a death sentence.

 “Babe, are you… are you worried about committing adultery?”

 Steve blushes.  “No, of course not.”

 He maybe is, Danny thinks.  Who could have guessed?  Danny gets in bed and scoots over towards Steve.  “I was assuming we were both not engaging in… whatever,” he waves his hand again, “for the same reasons, but now I’m not so sure.”

 “It doesn’t matter,” Steve says, clearly uncomfortable.

 “I think it does,” Danny says gently.  “Hey, can I ask you something?”

 Steve purses his lips.  “You already did.”

 “You didn’t have sex with Catherine after the wedding, right?”  Danny may have been upset at having to watch Steve go through with the ceremony, including kissing the bride, but not once has he doubted Steve’s fidelity.

 Steve’s eyes widen.  “Of course not, Danny, what do you think-”  

 “So you won’t be filing for divorce, it’ll be an annulment.  As if it never happened.”

 Danny’s not sure how this detail never occurred to Steve, but it clearly did not.  “Really?”

 “Yes, really.”

 “Oh.”  A little smile pulls at the corner of Steve’s mouth.  “An annulment.  That’s, um, that���s better.”  He glances up at Danny.  “Not that there’s anything wrong with being divorced, if you meant to be married in the first place, but-”  Steve sighs and ducks his head, leaning against Danny’s side.

 “But what?”

 “It felt like I was wasting it with her.  The whole time, through the ceremony, and the reception, with all the flowers and congratulations and celebrating…  I felt so empty.  And then I went to find you, and you were already gone – which I totally understand, but still… it wasn’t right.  I guess I wanted it to be special.”

 Danny slides down and wraps an arm around Steve, taking a moment to judge Steve’s mental state before responding.   He almost always laughs, no matter how awful Danny’s jokes are, but they’re on shaky ground these days.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” Danny finally says, seriously.  “I’m sorry you wasted your wedding virginity on Catherine.”

 Steve barks out a laugh, and then Danny is laughing too, until they’re both clutching their stomachs and gasping for air.  

 “Guess you can’t wear white at our wedding,” Danny spits out between cackles.

 “That’s offensive and archaic, I can wear whatever I want,” Steve replies, still laughing.

 It seems to take forever before they calm down, one of them starting up again and setting the other off, but they finally relax. Danny rests his head on Steve’s chest, fingers playing idly with the collar of his t-shirt.

 “So,” Steve says, “you, um, think we’re going to have a wedding someday, you and me?”

 Danny is suddenly glad he’s got a shirt on, because otherwise he’d probably be sporting a full body blush.  “If it’s up to me?  Yeah.”

 Steve squeezes Danny so tight for a moment he can hardly breathe.  “I’d like that too.”

 *****

Danny’s getting out the ingredients to make pancakes the next morning when Steve’s phone rings.  Steve picks it up and answers, straightening his shoulders in a way that makes Danny stop rattling pans and pay attention.

 “Okay.  Understood. Understood.”

 This side of the call isn’t very informative, and Steve has walked out onto the deck, clearly focused on the conversation. Soon Danny sees him shove his phone back into his pocket, and then turn towards Danny with a wide grin on his face.

 “Danno?”  Steve strides towards him and takes him in his arms.  “It’s over.  Cath’s op is done, the guy is in custody.  We don’t have to pretend anymore.  It’s over.”

 “That’s great, babe-” Whatever else Danny was going to say is lost as Steve kisses him hard and long.  Danny gives back just as enthusiastically, pulling away just long enough to nip at Steve’s jaw and suck at that spot on his neck that always makes Steve moan - and today is no exception.  Danny’s practically humping Steve’s leg when Steve stops them and starts to tug Danny towards the stairs.  

 Danny nearly trips over his own feet in his hurry to follow him, and Steve beams back at him.  They’re both stripping off their clothes as they go up, but Steve grabs Danny’s hands just as he’s about to divest himself of his briefs.

 “Hang on, buddy, we need to make sure we’re on the same page,” Steve says, still grinning like a lunatic.  

 “I dunno, you get over your aversion to cheating on your not-wife?”

 Steve’s smile gets impossibly wider, and he yanks his pants up off the floor, pulling out his cell phone from a pocket and stabbing at it vigorously.

 “It’s not cheating if she says it’s ok – see?”

 Steve’s pulled up a text, clearly from Cath, which says you have my full permission to ravish and be ravished. Danny’s kind of curious as to what exactly Steve asked, to get that kind of response, but that’s a question for another time.  Right now, there are more important matters to attend to.

 “So, which one will it be, then?”  Danny asks, as Steve gets his thumbs under the waistband of Danny’s briefs and impatiently renders Danny naked.  “Ravish or be ravished?”

 Steve drops to his knees and smiles up at Danny, his hands already sliding up Danny’s thighs and making him quiver.  “I’ll bet we can do both.”

 They do.

[dp-pastandpresent]

Past and Present: Chapter 30

"The screen shows the little clouds exploding! You must have to touch them! Let them Pop!"

"Say that again?" Danny's voice crackled through to Tucker's headset.

"Touch the orbs, let them pop!" Tucker practically yelled back, realizing he was losing his connection.

The three of them were still sitting around the computer, all with headsets on, staring at the screen as Danny's dot disappeared.

Suddenly, Tucker found himself lurching back as the screen went solid green, his headset turning to static.

"Did yours…?"

"Go to static? Yup," Maddie responded.

"So, does that mean?" Jack asked.

"He's out of our range?" she offered. "There is nothing we can do now but hope he survives on his own in there."

"But there has to be SOMETHING we can do!" Tucker said angrily as he turned to the adults behind him. "Anything else integrated into that suit?"

"We put so many things in there, I forgot what half of them do!" Jack replied, then put his head down in frustration.

"Jack, remember, there are parts of the Zone that we haven't even explored. Parts we can't even begin to imagine. We've barely even cracked the surface!" Maddie said, getting up and putting her hand on his shoulder.

"I guess Mads, but I just wish we knew more. We've been studying ghost lore for so long, waiting for this moment, and it feels like we're back to square one."

"It does seem so doesn't it, dear?"

Tucker turned to the adults at this, trying to find a way to bring back the confident ghost researchers he had heard so much about.

"STOP! Both of you. Just. Stop. You are Jack and Maddie Fenton, the two scientists who DISCOVERED THE GHOST ZONE. You have worked too hard to give up now! Yes, Danny is out of reach. No, we don't know what has happened to Sam. BUT we do know that we can't just give up!"

The couple looked at each other, then to the teen in front of them, a bit struck by his confrontation.

"Think guys. Is there ANYTHING in that suit we can use to figure things out. Anything that has a longer range?" Tucker asked, trying again to bring back the heroes he knew they could be.

"GZPS went out already, as did our coms. He's gone too deep into the Zone, we can't communicate," Maddie answered.

"The extra energy boosters won't do any good either, as they only affect him," Jack added.

"And we can't check his vitals because they were connected to the GZPS," Maddie finished.

"His vitals… wait!" Tucker quickly responded, then added, "We were able to check his vitals, his location, his everything, on your computer program!" He turned back to the computer and began pushing keys as the screens changed.

"And?" Jack asked.

"Well, you said yourself you packed a lot into that thing. Maybe TOO MUCH! Maybe if we remotely disable some of it, we'll be able to get enough power to boost the rest!"

"Tucker, that's brilliant!" Maddie exclaimed, giving him a hug from behind. "Turn off the GZPS, since we know where he is now, and play with the coms. See if you can disable the two-way audio."

"Why would we disable that, Mads?" Jack asked, confused.

"Sure, we want to hear what's happening on his end, but I don't think there's anything we can tell him while he's confronting that monster that will really help," Maddie explained.

"OOOOO," Jack said, his mouth in an O shape.

"GZPS. Off." Tucker said as he clicked a few buttons. "Two-way coms, off. Try the audio receiver now!"

Maddie put her headset back on and played with the dial until finally she let out a smile. "It's static, but I can hear a bit. Danny just said something."

She lurched back at this, as if taken aback.

"What!?" Jack and Tucker said together in surprise.

"It's just… I heard another voice. It must be HIM. It's so deep and profound."

Tucker grabbed his set and put it on but frowned in dismay as he messed with his dial.

"The frequency must still be too weak. We can only get through on one set. Maddie it'll have to be yours."

"That's fine Tucker," she replied, before adding, "Can you check his vitals now, or do we need to disable more?"

Tucker looked back at his screen but sadly there was no information about Danny's health.

"I don't get it. We should be able to see how he's doing, I turned off what you said, plus a few of those extras, like the coffee warmer you added Jack…"

Maddie looked at her husband and raised an eyebrow.

"What, no one likes a cold cup of coffee…" Jack replied quietly.

"Wait! I think he… he took off the suit!"

"Why on Earth would he do that!" Jack asked loudly, raising his hands. "He knows he needs his strength!"

"It's Clockwork. I just heard his faint voice say something about Danny benefiting from removing his suit."

"I just hope Danny knows what he's doing," Tucker responded, feeling a bit unsure of their ghostly hero's chances of saving his friend.

"Unfortunately, I can't hear everything. It's fading in and out. And if Danny really took it off, it's not even as close to the speakers as it once was." Maddie replied in dismay.

"But it's better than nothing! Keep listening Mads!" Jack said, regaining his positive attitude.

"Well if you'd stop talking it'd be easier!" she said, walking towards the back of the lab with her head down.

"I think she needs some space," Tucker whispered to Jack as he turned back toward the computer. "Is there anything else on here that may help us?"

"I've got a few folders with ghost information, and there was a bit on Clockwork, but really not much. I can pull them up if you think they'd help," Jack answered.

Tucker looked back at Maddie, who was still deep in thought trying to hear what was happening deep in the Zone, sometimes making a face at what she heard.

"Looks like we'll be here awhile, so go ahead."

--

Tucker was scanning the files Jack had pulled up, looking for anything that may give them a clue to Clockwork's motives.

"Master of time. Able to control who stays and goes. Helps ghosts move on…" Tucker murmured as he scrolled. "All things you've already told me when I arrived, basically."

"I told you son, I've shared pretty much everything I can already. Me and Maddie, we haven't been able to research individual ghosts much, seeing as we haven't had access to the Zone until recently."

"Wait! Here's something!" Tucker interrupted, squinting at the screen. "It's a scanned document, from your mom I'm guessing?"

Jack looked at it too and nodded. "I've only been able to decipher about half of what it says though, since her handwriting was so frail towards the end."

Tucker kept squinting as he scanned his eyes over it, mouthing the words to himself before turning to Jack and pointing at part of it.

"Is this the part you couldn't read?"

Jack looked and nodded again.

"Jack, I think Sam's in trouble," he gulped, before continuing. "If I'm reading this right, that medallion we have is more than just a trinket. It says here 'Clockwork's medallions allow a being in and out of his lair. Without them they can't find it.'"

"I think we figured that out. After all it's our map now!" Jack said.

"But there's more! This here, in really messy scribbles! She must have been in a hurry or something, I'm only able to piece a few small bits together. But it doesn't look good."

Before Tucker could say more Maddie came running over to the group.

"Boys! We've got a problem!"

--

While the boys played on the computer, Maddie sat quietly in the corner, concentrating hard on picking up what little she could from her headset.

"You said his powers were fueled by our love…"

A rush of relief took over Maddie as heard Sam's voice this time, clearly still alive.

"He finds himself questioning things… that's when the human emerges."

She gritted her teeth. Clockwork again. And she wasn't even to hear the whole bit of his sentence.

'Think Maddie! Put these pieces together. Clearly Clockwork is telling the kids that they are linked, but we kind of knew that already…'

She stopped as she heard more come through.

"I have not been able to see…. Until it occurred in real time… because of your powers."

Maddie opened her mouth in awe, finally figuring a few things out.

'Clockwork's visions are affected by Danny's powers? But wasn't Clockwork supposed to be all-knowing? Able to control everything and everyone? Ha! We'll see about that!'

She was about to go back to the group and tell them what she had just figured out, to see if they had any ideas about how to use this to their advantage, when she heard more.

"…Let him lay! Let him realize I am right!"

The voice was angry, as if something had just happened to set him off. Maddie was horrified to think what it could have been and what he could have done, but also too intrigued to let herself get distracted by the boys. She glanced over at them to see them peering at the computer intently, and decided to stay and listen, planning to fill them in on it all when she had a more concrete idea.

"I may not have my powers… Tell me what's going on…"

Maddie sighed in relief as she heard his voice, though it was strained and full of crackling static.

"This amulet…"

She felt like she was hearing a soap opera play out as she strained to listen, not wanting to stop even as the static got worse and worse. 'Danny must have gotten further from where his suit landed,' she thought.

"It's linked to your destiny…"

Sam this time, before even more static came, so strong she couldn't hear a word.

'Clearly that amulet Danny has is linked to his powers, his love. And so is Sam. And that power is stronger than Clockwork thought. It's strong enough to overtake him even. If only Danny can find a way to harness it…'

She kept thinking, glancing at the boys again to see them squinting at their screen, while listening intently to the static in her set. She was about to pull it off and give up when something broke through that caught her attention.

"I AM NO ONE'S TOY!" Danny's voice rang through, clearer than it had been before.

"Danny!" Sam's voice now, but not as clear.

Maddie closed her eyes again, straining to hear, knowing it could be important.

"Trust me. Trust us! This will work out...!" Her voice was really weak now, almost completely gone.

She knew something was up, and she knew she needed to share what she had heard. She turned back to the boys, ready to explain when one last bit came through.

"I love you, Danny."

Tears filled Maddie's eyes at this, full knowing that something bad must have happened to Sam. Hoping that maybe the boys could shed some light, she ran over to them, fear in her voice as she said, "Boys. We've got a problem!"

--

"Jazz's notes say WHAT?" Jack asked again, as Tucker explained what he was able to decipher.

Maddie had just finished frantically filling them in on what she had heard, and was now tapping her toes impatiently, knowing that every second they spent was another one Sam was in trouble.

"Humans. They can't survive for long in the Ghost Zone. Only a few things can fix that, and one of them is Clockwork's medallions. Or at least, that's what her scribbles look like they say," Tucker replied. "And if Maddie is correct in what she heard, I have a feeling Sam took hers off."

"Which means…. She's gone?" Jack asked.

"Now Jack, don't race to any conclusions, we can't know for sure. And even if she did take it off, I bet Danny found a way to save her." She paused, then said, "Unfortunately, my headset is static again and nothing is coming through at all." She frowned, tears forming in her eyes.

Jack put his arm around his wife, trying to comfort her the way she always did him.

"This isn't our fault. This isn't anyone's fault except that low-life ghost, Clockwork. And I promise Maddie, we WILL make him pay!"

"But what can we even do?" Maddie replied, her usual confidence shaken.

"What can't we do? We're family! And family always wins!" Jack replied with a boom in his voice. "Plus, Danny is strong, powerful and in love! And if family doesn't win, love will!"

Tucker listened intently as Jack cheered up his wife, trying to figure things out. It wasn't until Jack mentioned love that he remembered something very important.

"Guys! We should probably fill in Sam's grandma, don't you think?"

--

With a little coaxing from Maddie, Sarah had decided to take a breather and go for a roll around the block. It had been a rough day and she needed to get some space.

'A few weeks ago, we were all normal. Living at home. Going about our lives. And now? Sam's been abducted by a crazy ghost who can control time!'

'But a few weeks ago, Sam was also depressed and lonely. It was only a matter of time before she took it a step further.'

She really didn't know which was better – returning to life as normal or letting ghosts control their fate. In her mind, they were both bad choices.

'How about something in the middle. Something where Sam is happy, Danny is able to find balance and we all return to life?'

'Danny shouldn't even exist. He died fifty years ago!'

'And yet there he was, standing in front of you earlier today, almost human.'

She couldn't make sense of it all, not really. As much as she wanted normalcy, she also found the idea of her former boyfriend returning intriguing, refreshing almost. It was like they all had been given a second chance.

'Second chance? Ha! You're 50 years older now, it's not like you should be with a teenager!'

'Of course not, but Sammy, she's getting the chance you never had!'

"If only…" She found herself saying out loud as she returned to the Fenton House. So much for a breather. She knew she'd feel better she went back in and tried to help in some way.

She wheeled herself up their ramp and into the house, which had been left unlocked for her, only to find the living room still empty.

'Whatever is going on down there, I sure hope they find their answers sooner rather than later.'

She went back over to the main room and found a TV remote, ready to let the glow of the screen distract her while the real work was done downstairs. But before she could click it on, she found her vision going black and her head getting dizzy as she fell forward and hit the ground.

--

At the reminder from Tucker that Sam's grandma was still upstairs, patiently waiting for results, Maddie had run up to check on her once more, knowing she'd have to break the news of her granddaughter's fate very gently.

She turned towards the living room and looked around, not seeing Sarah at first and assuming she was still outside. But then she looked again and saw a glimpse of her metal scooter. Eyes wide, she quickly ran into the room, only to find that Sarah was lying on the ground, with nothing so much as a heartbeat or pulse.