#let’s just ignore that I change Danny’s skin color every time I draw him

[nickyandstuff]

I have made the decision that ima completely ignore his shrink wrapped suit, Let this boy have baggy clothes

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Birthmother: Dad Fluff

CW: Referenced past noncon - including noncon that occurred underage, frankly discussed past abusive relationship involving minors, referenced past captivity, referenced victim blaming. Frank discussion of difficult circumstances and mindsets surrounding adoption from adoptive parent and birth parent points of view.

Danny speaks with Mina’s birthmother just after her birth. This one’s a heartbreaker, guys - for Danny and for Marie West, Mina’s birthmother. Basically I’ve been tearing up in Starbucks for two hours now and will now inflict it on all of you.

“Can… Can I ask why?” Danny folds himself into the small chair in the hospital room, the plastic pastel padding doing nothing to make it even remotely comfortable to sit in, the pale wood arms and frame nearly the same color as his skin.

He hasn’t slept since they got the call that she was finally in labor, and he can feel an exhaustion headache beginning to throb just behind his eyes - still, he’s gone longer than this without sleeping, and the teenage girl in the hospital bed beside him hasn’t slept, either.

Marie West, fifteen years old and the birthmother of Danny’s daughter, looks down at her hands. She has beautiful fingernails, carefully manicured and painted a perfect even pinkish-cream color that pops against her skin.

“Why what?” She asks, in a low voice.

They’re alone in the room, except for the tiny newborn currently sleeping in the clear plastic rolling ‘crib’ next to Marie’s bed. She’s heavily swaddled in the white blanket with pink and blue stripes that, Danny thinks, it seems like every newborn in America gets as the very first thing they own.

The baby girl is approximately eight and a half hours old, and she has lighter brown skin than her mother, a tiny little mouth that moves in her sleep, and a thick fuzz of black hair that covers her head. She will be Danny’s daughter, if Marie doesn’t change her mind before the grace period is up, and Danny’s heart beats in his throat every time he thinks of that possibility… and he’s not sure whether he wants her to keep to her plan, or if some deep part of him wants to see her decide to keep the little girl, make the best of it, create a life that her child can be a part of.

Some part of him has always been wondering what it would have been like to have his birthmother decide to create a life with him.

“Why us? I mean, um, you don’t… really have to tell me. I just asked Nate and your mom to get coffee and give us a sec because, um, I wondered if… if you wouldn’t… if you couldn’t use a few minutes. I can go, too, if that’s better.”

Danny moves to stand, and stops when he catches Marie shifting around in the bed. She’s wearing a pink hospital gown with little patterned birds on it. It has a slit on each side for feeding the baby, although Marie has told Danny she isn’t going to. I’m sorry, I just can’t, she said to the nurse, who looked at her with perfect compassion and brought in tiny little bottles of premade formula, showing Danny how to give them to the little girl they have yet to name.

He doesn’t want to - not until he knows for sure that Marie won’t decide to take her home, give her a new name, and Danny and Nate will have to start again.

“No, you’re okay, don’t go. I just.” Marie shrugs, inspecting her hands for a few moments longer. Her hair falls in thick black waves around her face. “I, I guess… I just, um, liked you.”

Danny nods, swallowing against a knot in his throat, against the nervousness that makes his fingers clumsy, his hands want to shake. It’s funny, to have lived through what he has but asking a teenager why she wanted to give him a baby is what really scares him, now. “Thanks,” He says after the pause draws just a little too long, belatedly trying to cover it. “I, um, like to think I’m… likable.”

“Yeah.” There’s another pause. In it, the newborn baby girl makes a soft, high-pitched grunting sound, and both of them look to her with automatic instinct. She quiets and settles again on her own. 

Marie sighs, and Danny wonders what she thinks, when the baby makes noise. Does a part of her want to take care of things, to hold the baby as tightly as she can and never let go? Does she just want someone to take the baby away? Is she fighting both feelings, all at once?

“Why… why did you like me?” Danny scoots the chair a little closer, wincing at the awful scraping sound it makes along the nondescript tile floor, but Marie doesn’t seem to notice. She keeps staring down at her hands.

“Because… because. Um. Because I, I just, because you said you were adopted, too, in your profile? File folder. Whatever. What the, the lady gave us to look at, my mom and me… it, like, said you were adopted when you were five.”

“Yep. I was in foster care before that.” Danny shrugs, folding his hands together, elbows on his thighs as he bends over, trying to read her face. He’s good at reading the mood of a room - he had to be, for years being able to read Abraham’s mood had been his only shot at lessening the pain he might be in. “You liked the idea of me being adopted?”

“I liked that you… you can tell her. You understand being adopted. You’re just the only one… you were the only person we looked at who I just thought could, um, like, tell her that it’s… it’s not her fault she was born.” Marie’s voice dropped into a whisper. Danny watched the tears welling up in her eyes, and suddenly he understood, all at once, the other reason he and Nate had been chosen. “It’s not her fault that she was, was fucking born... it’s mine.”

Danny lets the silence draw out between them, and then he reaches out with one rough, scarred hand to take hers. She grips onto him painfully tightly, but he doesn’t flinch - he can take this kind of pain, this is nothing, not when you’ve had your back carved up for hours kneeling in the dirt - and he keeps his eyes carefully on hers.

He doesn’t touch other people very often, but he understands, now, that Marie West doesn’t want to touch other people anymore, either, and for a very similar reason.

“You were r-raped,” He says, softly. It took him so long to say it out loud - for months after it was all over he still referred to what Abraham did as sex, as if it were normal, because Abraham had told him again and again - it was one of his rules - you can’t rape the puppy. He shudders against the memory, pushing it down, because… because this moment, in this hospital room, isn’t about him. “That’s why you liked us. Because.. Because I was, too. You were, um… you were raped. Like me.”

“N-not, like, like you,” Marie says, her voice bubbling and breaking with the tears that she is fighting like hell to hold back. He wants to tell her to cry, to sob her heart out, that he can sit here with her in silence and be someone who understands the need… but he knows just as much that she needs to not cry, that she’s been crying for months without stopping, that she just wants to be able to stop. “He w-wasn’t a stranger, he was, was my… my boyfriend.”

Danny nods, and he moves his other hand to hold onto hers, too, and they sit there in silence while she sniffs back the tears that try to escape, setting her jaw with grim determination as she fights them back inside of herself.

“We dated for, like, six months,” She says softly, almost hoarsely. “Then, one night… and I don’t know, I just, I was scared because he got so mad and I went along with it. And then we, we just kept… I never really, you know, he would get so mad I didn’t want to say no, and-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Danny whispers, with real ferocity. Her eyes go to his, and he looks right in her warm brown eyes, knowing that his own have turned to something like a cold, cold ocean blue. “Listen to me. It doesn’t matter, it took me a long t-time to, um, to understand it, but it doesn’t matter if you can say no. Not saying no isn’t the same as saying yes, Marie, okay?”

She nods, sort of rapidly, her shoulders sagging. She pulls her hands back and Danny lets go quickly, his own skin crawling with touching other people, but he ignores the feeling for now. “Did you learn th-that in therapy?” She asks with a wry smile, watery and unconvincing, but there. “I have to go to therapy now, my mom takes me.”

“I did learn that in therapy. I have… I have a good therapist. She’s about to retire, I just…” He shrugs a little. “I learned a lot from her. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t be able to do this, to have a baby, if I hadn’t gone to her.”

“I don’t want this baby,” Marie whispers, with the air of someone confessing a sin. “I don’t want her. I know she’s, it’s not her fault, and my mom thinks she’s cute, but I don’t… I don’t want his baby. You’re supposed to want babies, when you’re pregnant, but it just felt like this thing kept growing - like I had a monster inside of me - and I didn’t want it because it came from him, and I don’t… I wanted to find someone who would want, um, want her. Because it’s not her fault.” Marie rested one hand over her stomach, lightly rounded but already slowly growing less and less, day by day. “It was… it was mine.”

“It wasn’t,” Danny says, gently but firmly. “It’s not your fault. It’s not hers, sure, but it’s not, um, it’s not yours either. It’s not our fault, what happened to us. Okay?”

She looks over at him - just for a second, before her eyes skip away again. “That’s why I picked you,” She says, her voice evening out again, the tears drying as quickly as they came. Pushed deep within herself, to wait until the next breakdown, the next moment when it was all too much, too soon. “Because you, um, you know. My mom recognized you from when you were in the news, and I looked you up online and realized… she wanted me to pick someone else, kind of? But I, I just… I just thought… th-there’s nobody better for that, that baby than someone who can tell her… someone who can tell her that it’s not her fault, and that someone loves her.” Her lips pressed together, guilty and miserable. “I can’t.”

“I get that. My birthmom couldn’t, either. Thanks for telling me.” He smiles at her, encouragingly, and she manages another smile in his direction before she lays back against the pillows, picking up the remote to turn on the TV. They sit there in silence for a while.

Just when Danny has started to consider going to find Nate and Marie’s mother, she speaks again. “You have to want her, though. It’s not her fault that she was born, and you have to want her because I can’t.”

“I do,” Danny says softly. “I want her so badly, Marie. I have, I have a name picked out and everything. We… we picked our names months ago actually, before anyone chose us. We sat around talking about it for, um, for weeks and weeks… it was funny to, to talk about it and there not actually be a baby… and then we decorated the nursery but, you know, we had to talk about what if you decided to keep her and we just… had this nursery sitting around our house-”

“I won’t change my mind.” Marie shook her head. “Everyone keeps asking. I won’t. I want you to have her. I want you to, to tell her that someone loves her.”

“I will,” Danny says gently. He moves from the chair to sit on the side of the bed, just slightly resting on it with his legs off to the side and feet on the floor. Marie doesn’t look at him right away, but the set of her jaw starts to waver again. “I will, Marie, I promise. I’ll tell her every fucking day how loved and wanted she is. I… I wasn’t… I wasn’t wanted, by my parents. I wasn’t adopted because they wanted me. And I’m not ever going to do that to a kid, okay?”

“Okay.” Marie says it softly, but the strain is in her voice again. “Okay, okay. Okay. Good.”

“If you want to meet her,” Danny says gently, “We would be happy to fly down here again-”

“I won’t.”

“If you ever do. I’m going to leave all our contact info with your mom, and if you want to see her… please, Marie. This is your baby, too-”

She shakes her head rapidly, her hair flying out around her, and Danny realizes her hands are gripped onto each other so tightly she’s pressed ash-pale divots into her brown skin. “She’s not. She’s, she’s his baby.”

“Okay. I won’t push. Just know that the option is there, if you change your mind.”

She nods again, once more, curt, still not looking at him. Danny wonders, to himself, if his own mother was given a conversation like this before the state took him away. If his birthmother, barely a teenager and recovering from surgery, had been told she could see her son if she wanted and said, no, I won’t, he’s not mine.

“I’m sorry,” Danny says gently. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sure you’ve spent… this whole time getting, um, getting pressured about it. I’ll go now.”

Before he can get up, she reaches out to grab him - it’s an all-at-once movement he nearly flinches back from, and a low deep voice in his mind says never flinch or pull away from Abraham in an echo he’s nearly broken but can’t quite shake. She hisses - it has to ache, moving like that so soon after having a baby, he knows it has to hurt to do what she’s done, and to do it knowing she won’t even bring the baby home afterwards.

“Please tell her I’m sorry,” Marie says, and her voice is choked as she pulls Danny down into a hug. He doesn’t pull back, his skin crawls but he holds onto her tightly, sliding his long arms around behind her thin hospital gown, pulling her as close to him as he can. Her head falls against his shoulder and she starts to sob, muffled sounds into his sweater - even in Texas, Danny is always cold and thinks maybe he’ll never not be cold again.

He holds her while she cries, and he doesn’t say anything, but he can feel in her that she doesn’t want him to speak. She just wants there to be someone to cry with, someone who has been there, someone who knows.

“J-Just tell her I’m, I’m so sorry, I c-couldn’t, pl-please tell her I couldn’t-”

“I will,” Danny says gently, rocking back and forth a little. What Nate does for him when he cries, when he is overwhelmed by the lost time and the horror that happened, the things he saw and felt and experienced weighing him down. The way Nate rocks with him when his back hurts so badly he can’t move, when his ribs ache with every breath. “I’ll tell her every day she is loved, and wanted, and that you were so fucking strong for her.”

“St-strong would be t-t-taking her home,” Marie says, in a voice like a guilty whimper.

Danny tightens his arms around her. “No,” He says softly, but firmly. “Strong is making the choice you have to make, to keep going, for the both of you. Strong is doing what you have to do to stay alive, to survive.” He is talking to Marie West, a fifteen-year-old girl in Texas who is giving him a baby… but he’s talking to a thirteen-year-old girl thirty years ago, too, a little girl who maybe turned her face away from the tiny premature redheaded newborn they showed her and said I can’t, I can’t, I don’t want to.

He is talking, as well, to a twenty-two year old man crying as he begs for mercy that isn’t coming, that Abraham Denner never had it in him to give.

“You’re strong,” He says out loud, to her and to his birthmother and to himself. To everyone like them, to everyone who had to make the hard choices they’ve made to keep moving when it would have been easier, maybe, to give up. “You have to survive for yourself, too. I’m so, so grateful you’re doing this, but I’m so sorry this happened to you. When I tell her about you, I’m going to tell her that you had to be so fucking strong when you shouldn’t have had to be strong, I’m going to tell her that you did what you had to do to give her the family you wanted for her, I’m going to tell her that she is the most loved and wanted little girl in the world. I know you don’t want to keep her, and you think that means you don’t love her-”

“I don’t, I don’t want her, I don’t want her and I’m supposed to want my baby,” Marie half-wails, fingers twisted into the fabric of his sweater, holding tightly. “But I don’t, I don’t, and I’m supposed to and I don’t…”

He hears shuffling steps outside, low voices, one of them Nate’s. He glances up to see Marie’s mother in the doorway, a hand over her mouth, Nate’s hand over her arm to keep her from moving inside.

“Sssshhhh, it’s okay. You’re okay. You don’t have to, okay? Wanting a baby isn’t a switch that turns on, not like this.” He thinks he should kiss the top of her head, some kind of parental something, but he can’t. His skin half-burns with what it feels like to be touched without it being his idea, but he forces back the sick flip of his stomach, the sense that his control over himself is being undone, and he focuses instead on the simple fact that Marie West is hurting, and he can help her. “It’s okay. We’re going to take her home, and Nate wants to be Dad, we already decided - and I’ll be Daddy. And if you ever, ever want to see her, Marie, you’re still Mommy. Okay? And if you don’t want to be ever, that’s okay, too, it’s your choice. You decide who you are, not that guy who hurt you, not your mom or your dad, not us. You decide. You get to decide who you are, after all of this, after you survive.”

Marie nods against him, sniffling, and her sobs start to fade, to come back under control. “Oh my god,” She mutters without raising her head. “Oh my god, the fucking hormones or something, I’m so sorry, I’m crying with a fucking stranger, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“No problem.” He pats at her back, then rubs in a soothing circle. “If you want to call and talk to me about… about the thing with that guy, I’d be happy to. Whatever you need, Marie. We’re here, and we, um, we know… we know a little bit about it. Not, not the way it happened to you, but-”

“Do you ever stop feeling like it’s your fault it happened?” Marie asks, in a whisper.

Danny hopes her mother can’t hear it.

He leans down to whisper back, curled around her. “It took a while. But sometimes… sometimes I go whole weeks where I remember, the whole time, that it wasn’t. And you’ll get that, too. Okay? You’ll get there. It takes a while, and it takes therapy and I take some pills, too, but… but you’ll get there. One day you’ll wake up, and you’ll get halfway through the day and realize you haven’t thought about him at all.”

“Y-you… you promise?”

“I promise.” He holds her for another few seconds, glancing up at her mother with a slight smile. Nate raises his eyebrows in question, and Danny holds up one finger - just a second. “I promise, Marie. I absolutely swear it.”

She nods again, and slowly pulls back, wiping at her eyes almost frantically. He notices, for the first time, pretty gold stud earrings in her ears, and a small gold hoop up in the shell of her ear on one side. “Um. Can I… can I ask you something? I mean, that’s ridiculous when I just cried on you, b-but… can I… ask something?”

Danny steels himself - people are always asking can I ask you something? And the questions get worse and more invasive each time, wondering did he ever do anything that felt good and do you miss him and what was it like to have someone break your arm on purpose or his personal current absolute least-favorite, do you ever think about how if you hadn’t gone over to your friend’s house, none of it would have happened? Do you think maybe you could have done something different to make it end faster?

“Yeah,” He says softly, when he’s ready. “Go ahead.”

She licks at her lips - dry and cracked, a little chapped - and then asks, hesitantly, “What’s the name?”

“What?” He blinks, thrown totally off-guard.

“Y-you said you guys already talked about names… what, um, what name did you pick for her? For your baby.” She subtly emphasizes the your - more for herself than for him, Danny thinks. Her eyes slip over to the infant, still sleeping peacefully in her crib, making the occasional low contented grunt.

“Oh.” Danny feels relief like a wave, nearly knocking him off the hospital bed. “Oh. Yeah, sure, I’ll… sure. We want to call her Mina Nicole. After, um, after a book I like… a character in a book I like. And Nicole was Nate’s mom’s name.”

“Which name does she get? Yours or his?”

“His,” Danny says firmly. “I don’t care about my name. My brother can give it to his kids.”

“Oh, shit. Hit on a sore spot,” Marie says softly, and laughs - her laugh is low and soft, and absolutely beautiful. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s… it’s okay. Mina Nicole Vandrum.”

She repeats the name, in a soft wondering voice, then looks back at the baby. “She looks like a Mina Vandrum, I think. It’s, I like… I like the name you picked. Um. You’ll be a good dad, I think, Mr. Michaelson-”

“Danny. Just… just Danny, please.”

“Okay. Danny. Thanks for… for all that.” She waved her hand vaguely, and then settled back against the pillows. Just as she settled in, her mother sweeps into the room, making plenty of noise to seem like she’d only just walked up rather than been watching in the door.

“Marie! Brought you your coffee. I figure you don’t need decaf if you’re not going to be breastfeeding, anyway.”

“Mom, you never let me have coffee,” Marie says, surprised, as she takes the cup from her mother’s hands. “Thanks. What’s… why-”

“You’re doing a real grown-up thing, and you’ve had a real shit few grownup months,” Marie’s mother says gently, reaching out to tuck a bit of her daughter’s hair behind her ear. “I’m not going to begrudge you a cup of damn coffee, babygirl.”

Marie’s eyes well up again, but she nods, swallowing back her tears. “Th-thanks, Mom.”

There is a moment where mother and daughter look at each other, and Danny sees the child in the teenager, desperate for the first voice she ever heard to still be there to stand between her and the monsters in the world - and in her mother, tired and maybe just as scared by all of this as Marie, the woman who, fifteen years earlier, had had her own baby to bring home.

A woman who, when she cradled the newborn Marie, could never have imagined having to be this kind of strong for her daughter, not like this, not so soon.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Danny says softly, and catches the look of gratitude Marie’s mom shoots him, as he pushes himself up and off the bed. “I’d like to talk to, um, to Nate out in the waiting room for a little while.”

“Do you want to take her?” Marie’s mother asks, nodding towards the infant in the little clear plastic rolling crib. “Out in the hall? I’d love to speak with my babygirl for a little bit.”

Danny nods quickly, trying not to look too eager as he moves to pick up the tiny little newborn - she hardly weighs a thing in his arms, as he slides one hand carefully under her head to keep it steady, so it won’t fall back. She doesn’t wake up, only smacks her lips a few times and settles right under his chin as he lays her against his chest.

She feels like she was always meant to be there, right against his heart.

“Grab a b-bottle,” Marie says softly, sipping her coffee. “She’ll want to eat.”

Being a mother doesn’t always mean raising the baby yourself, Danny wants to tell her, picking up one of the tiny little prepackaged bottles of newborn formula the nurses brought in. He wants to say that sometimes being the mother your baby needs is helping her build the family you want her to have, even if you’re not in the center of it. He wants to say, my mother gave me to the state and I found my family in the end, and Mina has her family and you’re still part of it, whatever part you want to play. You’ll survive this, and it’s going to be okay.

He’s not sure how to say it without tearing up himself. He hopes someone told his mother that, when she was so little, and scared, and had to be too strong too soon.

He carries Mina carefully to the door, stopping to kiss Nate before he moves into the hallway, listening to the noisy breathing of the newborn in his arms.

Marie’s mother steps up, gives Danny a slight smile, and closes the door to the room to give she and her daughter some privacy.

“Is she oh-okay?” Nate asks, softly. “M-Marie?” His voice is low, and deep, and Danny wants to wake up to this voice every day for the rest of his life.

“She will be,” Danny says softly. “She will. She likes the name, Nate. She likes the name Mina Nicole.”

As if she understood her name had been spoken, Mina shifts in his arms a little, and her wide dark eyes flutter slowly open and then close again.

“What did you t-t-talk about?” Nate and Danny amble down the hall, Nate reaching out occasionally to touch Mina’s soft soft hair, the back of her swaddling blanket. As if reminding himself that this - that all of this - was really happening, was real.

Danny shrugs a little, smiling down at his daughter.

“Just… that, that... it’s going to be okay.”

[cowandcalf]

Writer’s Month - To Find A Way

Prompt No.7 - Hurt/Comfort

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Danny waits. He's attentive, patient although his senses are full-blown and active. He registers fine dust dancing in a stray ray of evening sunlight. The world is reduced to this single moment. He knows Steve feels naked, stripped bare to the core. The echo of his own voice still floats through the air. The spoken words of his question vibrate silently, poking Steve softly.

Steve's arms fall to his side. He looks beat and abysmally tired. As if he has nothing more to lose, he clears his throat and takes a step forward. "I can't – " He stops mid-sentence. The shame colors his cheeks. He works hard to control the aftershock of his panic attack. He shakes as if he's freezing cold. He sets his jaw, determined to hold on to the little dignity he has left. Danny notices the way Steve takes a quick glance at the gun on the table. He draws a breath with closed eyes.

Danny smells the pungent odor of Steve's cold sweat. "Steve? Do you need your gun?" He asks quietly. He wouldn't leave, not before Steve's calmed down to a point where he's back from where he's got lost.

Steve gives in. The straight, hard line of his shoulders softens. Danny watches with a tight throat how Steve tries to work through the aftermath of the episode without the things he needed to make it. Danny's movements are deliberately slow. He's hyper-aware of the unpredictability of the situation. He has no idea how Steve's going to react. Steve's glare almost burns wholes in his eyes. Danny reaches for the weapon on the table. His fingers curl around the handle piece of the Sig Sauer P226. "Do you need this?" He places the gun in the middle of the table.

Steve exhales. He swallows hard and nods. His eyes are fixed on the black pistol. Steve's features melt and surrender oozes off every pore on his skin.

"Good," Danny steps closer. "What do you need to do with it?" If Steve needs to shoot some rounds, he wants to be ready.

The transformation that follows suit in Steve's demeanor almost scares Danny. A wave of strength seems to ripple through Steve's body. He breathes out shakily and steps closer. A deep calmness shows on his face and with the snap of fingers, the soldier emerges. The shaking stops, the breathing deepens and when Steve lifts his gaze to look at Danny there's only a heavy concentration and nothing else.

Danny clenches and unclenches his fists. Good Gracious.

"I need to disassemble and assemble my pistol to calm down." Steve sighs and ducks his head, "it's what gets me out of it, makes me feel better." He whispers. "It's the only thing that helps to gain my equilibrium back."

Danny watches Steve with reverent fascination. "Good," he nods as if Steve has given him an order. The intimacy of the situation is as obvious as a punch to the face. Danny hesitates a split second and is about to turn around to walk out of the room. He doesn't want to leave but Steve's emotions show in a painful rawness. Danny can't stand to know Steve's endlessly ashamed due to his presence.

"Stay," the crack in Steve's voice kills him. "Danny, it's okay." The breathed words curl around Danny's neck as if Steve's hand holds him back with the shyness that's as tender as a newborn.

A drop of sweat runs down the back of Danny's neck. "Thank you," he whispers into the reverent silence of the strangest moment Danny can remember. His gaze wanders over Steve's face to find his pupils blown and huge. Trust, of all things, trust flickers like a broken light bulb in the darkness there. Danny senses the insane urge to tell Steve that whatever it takes, he's willing to help him carry the cruel load that weighs down on his soul. But he doesn't know Steve at all and still, Danny has to bite his tongue to keep the words from spilling. He has no right to tell him he's going to be fine. He knows shit about Steve's life but he can be there, right by his side to ease the agonizing pressure.

Steve gets unsteady again. "I – uh, I also need a towel. It's – it's folded, stuck behind the mugs, over there."

Ritualistic – the way a tool is used, mostly repetitive and ritualistic and that shines a light of another mental issue Danny doesn't want to think about. Danny pulls the white, clean towel from behind the mugs. He shakes it and puts in on the table, flattens it, and lays the gun in the middle. "I'm, uh, I'm going to make coffee. I'm right here if you need me." Danny points with his thumb awkwardly over his shoulder, his upper body half-twisted and with his attention on the gun. He still feels the shape of Steve's pistole pressed into his palm. He has to do something to find a way to calm his heart. Jesus.

Steve stays silent. His face changes again. A peaceful streak spreads into his expression and makes Danny want to grab the rim of the table to keep him from dropping to his knees. He turns around to give Steve some much-needed privacy. He tries to be as silent as possible when he opens the only two cupboards under the sink. He smells the coffee and reaches for the yellow metal tin on the left. Danny does everything with super controlled movements.

When the first metallic click-sound hits the air, Danny jerks. He curses silently. He follows Steve's skilled steps with his mind while he tries to get the coffee going. First click: remove the mag. Second click: lock back the slide, check to make sure there's no ammo in the barrel. Third click: remove the slide from the lower part, take out the recoil feather and the barrel. The last sound is the soft thud when Steve lays down the pieces and the handle on the towel. Danny's breathing hitches. The drip coffee maker gurgles disturbingly but it doesn't seem to bother Steve. There's a beat of silence. Danny stands still and waits for Steve to do everything backward.

The fast succession of the steps to assemble a gun follows a second later. The clicks are solid, executed without hesitation. Danny watches how the dark hot brew fills the coffee pot.

The metallic clicking sound, interrupted by Steve's break before he resumes his task again, merges into a meditative sound carpet. Danny's concentration is on Steve and his hands. He can't see him. He senses him. The heat and the fear that has filled the room moments before ebb away and clarity spills from where Steve handles his weapon. He trusts Danny enough to let him stay, lets him listen and experiences how he fixes for the time being what's out of whack.

Danny's heart stumbles. At first, he doesn't understand what's wrong. His entire body vibrates softly. He crumples up the rag in one fist. The intimacy is almost too much to bear. And when he realizes why he feels a twist in his gut and why his throat is so strained it almost flutters, he drops the rag and grabs the rim of the sink with both hands. He stares at the freshly brewed coffee. He remembers how he reacted when Chin told him he knew the exact moment when he has fallen in love with Malia. Danny shrugged off the telling as cheesy stuff. How could someone even say that? It takes time to fall in love. It doesn't happen in one moment.

Little does he know.

Danny drops his head and resists the urge to put his face in his hands. This, right here, with his back to Steve, with his ears perked up to not miss a single move Steve makes, this is the exact moment where love hits him like a sucker punch. The yearning spreads into his stomach and his hands. He works his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut. An aching sweetness and longing drip into his veins. He misses out on the moment when Steve stops. Silence. There's only the puffing and panting of the antique drip coffee maker. The melancholy sits deep in his stomach. He slowly turns around with his heart in his throat.

Steve stands tall. He has pushed his hands down his pockets. He watches Danny with a soft glow on his face and a distance in his eyes Danny doesn't want to see. "Are you," Danny wants to ask if Steve's good if he feels better but changes his mind, "are you ready for a cup of hot coffee?"

Steve almost glides around the table. His steps are a choreography of grace and strength. It's a lot to take in especially when he stands right in front of Danny, in arms reach. "Did I hurt you?" Steve asks with such a seriousness that berefts Danny of any sarcastic comment. "I pushed you so hard. I'm so sorry."

Danny fights to get the words out. "No, of course not. Please, Steve, there's no need to apologize. I – it's me who has to apologize for being so clumsy and for making you have this fit. I'm so sorry."

"Don't," Steve's hand lands warm and firm on Danny's shoulder. His fingers press down and Danny nothing but wants to push into Steve's grip to feel more. Steve's lips are red from chewing on it. "I'm the one who has to apologize, Danny. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Danny nods and taps with his palm against Steve's forearm where ink meanders under his skin. He needs to step away, needs to create some distance where he'll be safe from the crazy wish to taste Steve's tattooed skin with his tongue. "You didn't hurt me, Steve. I'm just happy you're okay again. We're good." He ducks away and tilts his head, ignoring his fluttering pulse. "Coffee?"

"Okay," Steve pauses and pulls his hand back, "coffee, coffee sounds good. I'm not hungry. I'm sorry about lunch." Steve emanates strength and loyalty, stamina, and vulnerability. He looks so beautiful and irresistible.

Danny wants to touch and to own but he picks two mugs instead. They're tall and huge and hold at least three normal coffee cups. Danny's asked himself when his eyes have first landed on the mugs who for Heaven's sake would want to drink from freaking barrel-sized mugs? And now everything makes sense. Shaking hands can spill coffee when filled in too small cups. He feels ashamed for being so ignorant.

"Danny?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?" Steve wants reassurance or something else. Danny's senses are completely clouded.

"I'm good, scout's promise." Danny smiles and shoves the half-filled huge mug with the 'cat lover' print in Steve's hand. "Here you go. Freshly brewed, strong and hot." He avoids brushing Steve's fingers. Men normally don't appreciate to be deliberately touched by another man.

Steve's eyes follow his every move. He watches him over the rim of his mug when he sips at the coffee.

Danny has to get out of this room. He holds on to his mug. "Tell me, who bought these mugs for you?" Danny grinned and winked at the inscription on his pink mug, 'Karen, am I a joke to you?'.

Steve chuckles low and Danny almost chokes on his coffee. "Mary, my sister. I have no idea who Karen is but she laughed at me and said it would lift my mood. She saw my black and dark green mugs and just took them with her and brought new ones. I'm not a pink color guy."

Danny snorts and drinks not only his coffee but also Steve's seductive, crooked smile. "I would never have guessed."

The silence was almost comfortable but still laced with a tiny strain of uneasiness.

"Do you know what I need?" Danny asks with his butt against the cupboard.

"What do you need, Danny?"

Danny can't handle how Steve makes him the sole spot in his universe.

"I need you to show me your garden. I know you have one. There must be a place where you grow your babies, right?"

Steve's smile widens and spreads across his face. "You sure you're ready for it?"

Danny makes a 'duh' face. "After what we've just experienced together? C'mon, show me your home-grown jungle."

 TBC

Also on AO3 - To Find A Way

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Your Words On My Skin - Chapter 2

Bonjour, mes chers! Well, you gave me quite the amount of feedback, so here we go. Chapter 2 of 10! Before we get to the story, however, let me take a moment to explain some of the things you've seen in my intros, but might not have understood.

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Summary: Danny Fenton was born with writing on his arms that proved he had a soulmate out there for him that was much, much older than his parents were comfortable with. The result was his skin being covered as much as possible and Danny warned that he shouldn’t look at the words or write any back. Danny has always been a little bit curious as to who his soulmate was, but he never thought on how curious his soulmate was about him.

<<First/Last Chapter>><<Next Chapter>>

Chapter Two

::

"Right, right, okay, Fenton, you can do this." Taking a breath to steady himself, Danny walked into the kitchen. "Hey, Mom, hey, Dad."

"Hey there, Danny boy!" Jack didn't look up from where he was scribbling across a set of blueprints, Danny trying not to laugh at seeing they were upside down. He had a feeling that somehow, even with that, the new invention would work. Somewhat. "How was school?"

"Oh, uh, good. School was good." Wait. How was school? Danny vaguely remembered homework, tormenting from Dash, and a B on a pop quiz. Yeah. Good day at school. "So, uh, what's up with you guys?"

"We're fine." Oh, jeez, Danny could hear the raised eyebrow in his mom's tone. A second later and he could see it, too. "Alright, Danny, what are you up to today?"

"Rude," Danny huffed, feeling a bit of a smile on his face. "It's not like I'm up to something every day, just, you know, most days." Maddie smiled at him and Danny felt himself relax a little bit more, and, right. His parents loved him. Time to test that. "Hey, guys, I… I wanted to ask you something."

"Danny? Everything alright?" Maddie was turning the stove off and putting her apron aside before walking over to him, looking worried already. "Are you in any trouble?"

"No, no, I'm not in any trouble." At least, he wasn't in any more trouble than he normally was. "I…" Okay, Fenton. Take it slow. He had to approach this topic carefully. "Why did you try so hard to keep me from my soulmate?"

For a heartbeat, the kitchen was utterly silent as his parents exchanged a look. It was a parental look that had Danny wandering how fast he could get to his room, change, and fly away as quickly as possible. "You know what, nevermind, that's probably a dumb question, I think I'll just go to my room, get some rest, do a bit of homework-"

"Danny." It wasn't Maddie saying his name that got his attention, but it was the tone. It was… Jeez, Danny didn't know how to describe it. Pained? "Danny, sweetie, why are you asking about your soulmate? I thought you weren't curious."

"Oh, uh, well, I- You know, all the kids at school are starting to get curious and find their soulmates and I was just-"

"Did." Jack startled Maddie and Danny both, Danny looking at him and, uh, what? Was that supposed to- "You asked why did we keep you from your soulmate."

"Ah." Shit. He forgot that for as much as his dad was his dad, he was also a scientist who had helped create a portal into the Ghost Zone. Really, Danny shouldn't be so surprised, at this point. "I, um… I might've accidentally maybe sort of kind of wrote something down on my arm? And then I may have answered back when I saw a hello."

Danny really didn't want to say that his parents looked at him with dread, but… Yeah, no, there was no better word than dread to describe the looks on their faces. "Danny- Danny, you have to understand that we were just trying to protect you."

"I mean, yeah, I figured that much, but from what? What was so bad that you had me keep my skin covered for fifteen years?" It had to be big, right? Something huge and important that would explain away the pain he had lied to himself to hide, right? Something huge.

"Oh, Danny." Maddie moved forward to pull him into a tight hug, Danny startling a little, but carefully hugging her back. "Danny, you were- You weren't even an hour old and words were appearing on your skin."

"What?" That- That wasn't right, was it? Yeah, okay, words could appear on the skin of newborns, but not even an hour old and words appeared? That was near unheard of, as far as he knew. "What do you mean words?"

"Sentences." At Jack's admission, Danny darted his gaze to his arms. They were covered now, but he could still remember the words that had wrapped around them in all sorts of shapes. "Sentences, paragraphs, words that were far beyond a child."

"That were beyond a teenager." Oh. Oh. The writing had led them to believe that his soulmate was old, then. "We were trying to keep you safe, Danny. If people saw your skin or found out, then…" Maddie pulled back, cupping Danny's cheeks and looking at him with near tears in her eyes. "I just wanted you safe."

"I…" People would have mocked him because that's what people did. They were mean and cruel and heartless. He knew that. He understood it. "I understand, but…" He understood, but he was still- They had never even bothered to tell him. Did they expect him to keep his skin covered for the rest of his life? Did they just expect that he'd never get curious- They didn't even hint at anything like this!

"But you're upset." Upset was a very mild word at the moment, but Danny gave a shaking nod, anyways. "I won't lie to you. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat." Heh. Guess Danny knew where he got his hero complex, from. "Even if you hate me, I just want you to know that we were doing our best to keep you safe. I won't apologize for that."

"Yeah- Yeah, I get it." He got it, but that hello that had appeared on his skin had been small, and cramped, and written as if the holder of the pen had been terrified of silence. How long had his soulmate been alone? "I'm gonna go take a shower."

Pushing away from his mom, Danny was grateful they didn't try to stop him as he ran up the stairs. He was willing to bet his limited allowance that he would have said some very nasty things if they tried to 'explain' anymore. That was one good thing about scientist parents, at least. They knew the value of giving someone time to think.

It just- Why?! Near everyone else grew up seeing words and drawings appear on their skin, but Danny had to keep his hidden as if it was something shameful. Apparently, it was. God, Danny couldn't even fathom the idea of someone writing on their skin day after day, always waiting for a response, and never getting one. He, at least, had known he had a soulmate. He hadn't been allowed to 'talk' to them, but he had known. His soulmate probably thought he had been born without anyone. That… That was sad. It was sad enough that it was pissing Danny off.

Glaring down at his skin as he got in the shower, Danny huffed as only his words washed away. "You came into the world too soon." It wasn't fair. He should have been able to grow up being able to write on his skin and getting to know his soulmate. His soulmate should have been able to grow up knowing there was someone out there for them. God, how old even was his soulmate? How many years had they been alone if what his parents said were true?

"Fenton luck strikes again." Fentons, he had found, never had very good luck with things. Danny thought the ghost powers and portal had been bad enough, but this? This was just cruel. This was nothing but cruel. Tearing his gaze away, Danny tried to avoid looking at his skin as much as possible as he showered, finally coming out and starting to get dressed. Maybe his soulmate would ignore him, now. It'd only be… His skin was clean.

Yeah, okay, shower, yeah, but his skin was clean. As in everything - every word, every story, every trace of ink - had been wiped away and there was nothing but bare skin. It was something that Danny had never seen before because even when seeing quick glimpses of his arms while growing up, there had always been something written there. To see it blank-

Seeing words, Danny quickly turned his left wrist around and there, in small letters, were the words, 'My name is Andrew.' Andrew. His soulmate's name was Andrew.

Rushing into his room, and near tripping half a dozen times, Danny finally found one of his pens and tore the cap off and okay- Okay. His mate's name was Andrew. Guy. That- He was going to be honest, that was not that big of a surprise and he had a soulmate. Okay. He couldn't lose this chance. Not again.

'Danny. My name is Danny. Nice to meet you Andrew. Well I mean I say or uh write meet but I guess really its more like' Danny was cut off from continuing as the word like was covered up with scribbles in a pen that wasn't his own, Andrew's words appearing under his own quick, clean, and precise.

'I had a feeling that if I didn't stop you there, then you would have never stopped writing.' Wha- Okay- No- Dammit. It was not fair that his mate already knew him so well. That was cheating. He had to be cheating.

'Probably not.' He was so rude- Heh. Andrew. His name was Andrew and he was rude and he was right handed. Right. He could- Danny could ask Andrew anything and he had no doubt Andrew would tell him. He could ask anything. 'Whats your favorite color?'

Danny watched as a 'u' was squeezed into the word favorite, and, what? A single word followed that was written in shining purple ink. 'Guess.' Staring for a long moment, Danny slowly laughed, not stopping until he realized his chest was hurting and there were tears on his face, but…

He had a soulmate. He, Danny Fenton, had a soulmate. His soulmate's name was Andrew and he was rude and funny and he was right-handed and his favorite color was purple, and god. Danny never thought he would care so much about someone's favorite color, but here he was, absolutely naked from a shower and not even managing to care as he cried on the floor of his bedroom.

'I don't know if I have a favorite but I like blue.' Biting his lip, Danny looked around before quickly finding a blue pen, doodling a set of three stars next to where he had written.

'Blue is a good colour. You like stars, I'm guessing?' Pausing at the words, Danny narrowed his eyes and wait. Favourite. Colour. Ah, crap, was his soulmate someone obsessed with all the British stuff?

'A stupid amount yeah.' Scribbling out the u in color, Danny grinned as there was a little frowny face drawn above it and okay, yeah, Danny was crying again, but- But come on. This was incredible. 'Nerd.'

'And you, dear mate, seem to be a brat.' Fuck. He and Andrew were going to get along great and Danny didn't even care anymore about how old Andrew might be because he was talking to his mate and oh… Oh, this was going to be amazing.

::

Andrew didn't stop writing back until Danny - his soulmate's name was Danny and he was male and thank god - admitted that he needed to get some sleep where he had school tomorrow and, yes, right. School. That- That part was tripping Andrew up a bit. His mate was in school- College? High school? Hopefully, if it was high school, it was the other's senior year.

Goodness, he still had so much to learn about his mate and he had a mate. Years and years of wishing and hoping and praying and he had a mate. It… Andrew could read the words on his arms and it was handwriting that wasn't his own, and yet it still all felt too good to be true. Andrew had a feeling that he wasn't going to be believing this one until he met Danny in person- Mate. Randy. He needed to tell- Oh.

Andrew had shot up to rush to the kitchen and tell Randy about his mate, and perhaps brag just a touch, but it seemed Randy was already in the room with Andrew. He also seemed to be asleep on the couch next to him and snoring. Trying not to laugh, Andrew looked around before grabbing a blanket and throwing it over the man, pleased when he didn't even twitch.

"I'm very glad you're asleep, because I'm only going to be saying this once. You were right." Andrew gently pet Randy's hair down, easily picturing the blank arms underneath the blanket. "Oh, Randy." He knew that no matter what his brother claimed otherwise, a part of him would always wish that writing not his own would appear on his skin. He also knew, without a doubt, that Randy would be nothing but happy for him.

Bending down, Andrew pressed a quick kiss to Randy's forehead, just like he used to do when they were little. "Thank you, Randy, for being such a great brother." Standing up, Andrew paused when he saw a slip of blue and oh. Oh, no.

"Someone has to keep you out of trouble, yeah?" He was awake. "You say such sweet words, little brother."

"I'm glad you think so, because soon you won't remember them." Grabbing a pillow, Andrew stepped forward with the intention to smother his brother into a final afterlife, huffing when Randy was up and dodging the attack at once. "You're far too cruel."

"Maybe, but it seems my cruelty works, yeah?" Randy looked to where Andrew's arms were filled with words - and only half of them were his. "Good talk?"

"He's absolutely perfect." Andrew sighed and collapsed back on the couch, trying not to grin like an idiot. "His name is Danny, he seems to be in school, his favorite color is blue, he loves the stars, he wants to be an astronaut when he grows up, he has two best friends who he shares everything with, and-"

"How long have you two been talking?" Randy cut him off with laughter, tugging at Andrew's shirt before Andrew could swat him away. "What did you two do, write wherever there was some blank skin?"

"Oh, hush." Andrew phased out of the grip and headed towards the kitchen, full of energy and he should bake- Baking sounded great. He would make some cookies. "He's perfect, Randy, absolutely perfect."

"And you almost didn't want to talk to him." Yes, yes. Andrew supposed he could allow Randy to be smug just this once- Only this once. "What do you mean seems to be in school?"

"Hm? Oh." Andrew paused from where he was gathering ingredients, the pile in his arm tilting sideways and oh, there went the flour. Mm, Randy would catch it. "He wrote that he had to go to sleep where he had school tomorrow. I didn't get to ask what his level of education was, yet."

"For your sake, let's hope it's college or very late high school." One could only pray. "Did he tell you, then?"

"Tell me? Tell me what?" Andrew set all his things down at the kitchen counter, accepting the bag of flour from Randy with a frown. Randy's own frown was a lot more serious.

"DId he tell you why he never wrote back." Ah… That didn't sound like much of a question. Turning back around, Andrew swallowed as he grabbed a bowl, ordering his supplies by when he would need them and trying to distract himself as much as possible. Maybe Randy would just forget what they were talking about and- "Andrew."

"I'm rather afraid it slipped my mind to ask." Andrew hated himself for the way his hands shook as he poured ingredients into the bowl. He could see some of Danny's stars peeking out in various places where words near covered them up. "I'll have plenty of time to ask tomorrow, I'm certain." After all, Andrew had all the time in the world to talk to his soulmate, now. He didn't have to worry. Right?

"Oh, Andy." Randy's voice was soft and quiet and so much like their mother's that Randy had to steady Andrew's hands before he could drop anything. "It's okay to be scared, you know."

"I'm not scared." He wasn't. He was terrified. What reason would his mate have to hide from him for years. No matter how old he was, he was obviously old enough that he should have known what the words on his arms meant, so what had kept him from writing back? What had kept him from writing anything back. He had mentioned the code was a password he had to write down before he forgot, but was that… Was that really it? If Danny hadn't needed to write that password down, would they have ever talked like they had?

"No, you're not." Ah, Randy knew. Of course Randy knew. Randy had always known the emotions of others and he had always known Andrew's emotions the best of all. "You're going to be okay, Andy."

"I don't know if I am." Did Danny truly care about mates? If he didn't, was he just going to disappear again when he got bored? As for Andrew… He was dead. He was dead. He was a ghost who wasn't meant to come back and he would never age again. What if his soulmate was already older than him? It would just get worse as time went by.

"You will be, though." Randy slowly let his hands go, Andrew noticing that his own were steady again. "I'd offer to take over, but I could never make that recipe the way you two did."

"That's because you always add too much chocolate," Andrew laughed, bumping his shoulder against Randy's. "You can stay and help, though."

"Oh? I just knew you liked my clever humor." Throwing an egg at Randy's head, Andrew was entirely unsurprised when it was quickly caught, cracked, and added to the mix. "Where do you keep getting all these ingredients, anyways?"

"Who do you think does all the shopping?" Strictly speaking, ghosts didn't need to eat, but if Andrew suppressed his aura then he could usually get away looking like a sick human when the sun was out. He made sure to shop outside of Amity Park, though. "Besides, I refuse to substitute ingredients with that trash you bring home."

"No need to be so rude." Ha! He didn't even deny it was trash. "You know, Vidya probably shouldn't be able to have electricity like she does."

"Magic." Really it was most likely the properties of the Ghost Zone, as Randy should well know, but it seemed to be a favorite subject of his to complain about how physics and logic didn't work in the Ghost Zone. It was too fun to play devil's advocate. "Now grab the pans."

"So bossy." Randy ruffled Andrew's hair and Andrew let him without a fight just this once. Randy's presence, for as annoying as he was, really was helpful and normal after he had just discovered his mate. As for finding out why he was only just now learning of him…

Andrew glanced to a patch of Danny's stars right over his left wrist and smiled softly to himself. He had all the time in the world to find the answer to that question.

::

Stumbling through his morning routine, Danny wasn't sure if he was honestly awake until he started getting dressed - mostly because he had been about to put his long-sleeve shirt and coat on and then realized the biggest thing in his entire life had just happened to him. Dropping the clothes, Danny held his arms out, staring at where faded words of his own were pressed against his skin next to the sharp, clear words of his soulmate.

"Okay. Not a dream." He half thought it might be one, actually, all things considered. Looking back to his clothes, he stared at them for a long few moments because… Because he didn't need them. Well, no, okay, he obviously needed clothes, but he didn't need ones that covered his arms up and every scrap of skin he had. He- He could talk to his soulmate and not have to worry about hiding from him, anymore, and oh, man, that was going to take some getting used to.

He had a soulmate. He had a mate named Andrew. Andrew loved baking and writing, he wrote like an English person, he was rude, he was right-handed, he had an older brother who worried far too much over him, his favorite color was purple, and he was funny. That- He already knew so much. He already knew more than he ever thought he would know.

Grabbing and throwing on a short-sleeve shirt he just barely remembered owning, Danny threw one of his pen necklaces on and uncapped the pen only to see his arms were near bare. Twisting his left arm around for a moment, he paused when he saw a scribbled out 'Good morning.' written across his arm in writing that was much neater and better than his own.

"Oh, yeah, I could get used to this." Trying not to bounce with what felt like glee, Danny scribbled out his own good morning before rushing downstairs, just remembering to grab his backpack and toss his coat back into his closet. "Hi, good morning, bye, gotta get to school, love you!"

"Danny- At least eat something before you go!" Heeding the unsaid warning lurking in Maddie's voice, Danny tore through the kitchen before emerging successfully with a slice of toast, a few pieces of bacon, and a cereal bar. "That is not a meal, young man-"

"I'll eat a big lunch at school, promise, love you, bye!" Danny rushed out of the kitchen just as Jazz entered, Danny hearing her speak even as he was halfway out the door.

"Was that Danny up and early without complaining? Were his arms uncovered? What- Mom! Wait- Danny!" Aaand that was when Danny shut the door and started thinking about running.

"Well, someone looks happy this morning. Should I worry about the world ending?" Hopping down the stairs and grabbing Sam in a hug before spinning her around, Danny quickly started munching on his hard won breakfast.

"What's there not to be happy about? It's nice and warm, it's getting close to summer, Mom somehow made it so the bacon didn't burn, and I have a soulmate. It's a great day, so far!"

"Should I be worry about my best friend being replaced by a skrill?" Staring at Tucker for a moment, Danny offered a slice of bacon. It was snatched up in a heartbeat. "Skrills are cool."

"So, Danny." Sam threw an arm around his shoulder as they walked, smile teasing, but happy. "How's your soulmate doing?"

"His name is Andrew," Danny grinned, finishing off his toast before pausing as the taste sunk in. "Ugh, I hate toast."

"Then why did you eat all of it?"

"Sam," Tucker frowned. "We're teenage boys and it's food. We'll eat anything."

"Very true," Danny agreed, ducking away from Sam as the two started an argument about… Something. They were arguing about something. Danny didn't care. 'Note to self I hate toast why do I do this to myself and holy shit have you even slept?'

'Define sleep.' Oh, wow, his soulmate was worse than him when it came to sleeping. That was great. 'It's possible I lost consciousness at one point, does that count?'

'Was it in a bed?' There was a little frowny face drawn next to his question, Danny choking on laughter. 'No it didnt count. Hows the story?'

'Well, I seem to have written an additional 20 pages, but I have no memory of actually WRITING those 20 pages.' Oh, man, Andrew was an absolute wreck and Danny loved it.

"Dude." Startling as Tucker's arm was thrown over his shoulder, Danny looked up to see his friends on either side of him. "Don't get me wrong, we're happy for you and all, but…"

"You look like you were given some experimental drug with how happy you look right now." Oh. Cool. "Seriously, Danny. You look stupidly happy."

"Stupidly happy," Tucker agreed, hugging Danny close for a second. "It's a good look on you." Danny stuck his tongue out, trying not to beam. Most friends, he was pretty sure, would tell him to be careful considering he had spent fifteen years never speaking to his soulmate. Sam and Tucker? They probably wanted to write a hello on his skin themselves.

"I'll have you oh holy shit." Danny paused, looking down at his arm before looking back to his friends. "I don't even know where my soulmate lives yet- I should get his number! That'd be easier than writing on skin all the time, yeah- Can I do that? Can I ask for a number?"

"Aw, it's like watching him try to ask someone out," Sam cooed, Danny making a face as she near cuddled against him. It was great. "Do you think you can do that?"

"I mean- Yeah? No? I don't- Help. I need a lot of help in this area." He had fifteen years to make up for, after all. "Do you think he'd even tell me where he lives? Like- Like a town, or city, or something."

"I think that you have plenty of time to find out." Yeah… Yeah, that was definitely true. He had what seemed like all the time in the world to find out more about his soulmate.

::

Andrew had always thought that he wrote on his skin more than the average person with a soulmate, but that was nothing compared to how much he wrote, now. Before it had been stories, ideas, or even little reminders to himself to do something before he forgot. Now, though? Now his skin was filled with so much more.

There were full out conversations written down on his arms that he had to keep washing away so more space could be made, there were doodles and drawings that filled up every blank space between those conversations, and each idea he jotted down usually had a patch of stars next to it. The ones Danny liked, he had found, were usually stars that were colored in.

The fun part, he had found, was seeing how many places he could write his ideas and timing how long it took Danny to find them. He was still trying to figure out how the other had found the idea he had written on his ankle in only ten minutes. He was positive that his friends had helped him, with that one.

The only problem of all of this writing was that sometimes he had to be… Well, he had to be careful with what he wrote, or, really, what he didn't write. It wasn't like he could tell Danny how old he really was. The other would run off in terror in a heartbeat- Ah. Right. There was also the fact that Andrew was dead and a ghost. That would put a damper on any kind of meeting, he was certain.

Then there was the fact that no one outside of Amity Park even knew ghosts to be real. At least, sane people didn't believe in the physical formation of ghosts. Perhaps if Danny lived in Amity Park it might be different, but the chances of that were slim to none.

So, yes, maybe lying to his soulmate wasn't the best way to start a relationship, but he wasn't technically lying. At least, that's what he kept using as an excuse to justify it. Vidya was humming along in his head in sheer delight at his suffering, the sadist little thing- Or, wait. Vidya was Andrew's lair, so would that make him a masochist? Maybe-

Oh, dear, Danny was asking for a phone number. "Do you think Randy could find a way to get me a working phone?" The trilling notes in his head held as much faith in that as Andrew held in the idea. "Yes, I'm aware it's a stupid idea, thank you." Okay, alright, no phone- Email address. He didn't-

"Why did no one warn me how difficult relationships would be?" Andrew chewed his lip to near shreds as he stared down at the words and while he technically had an email address, it wasn't exactly like he had internet within the Ghost Zone. He could check it in the human world, but that would require getting to a library, and he didn't have an address to get a library card, and he wouldn't be able to talk to Danny all the time anyways, and-

'I don't believe in technology.' Staring at the words and trying to fathom why anyone would write something like that, Andrew slowly realized that he had written those words and, right. Aha. Because that was a good lie.

Collapsing onto the nearest soft surface, Andrew groaned as he looked up to the ceiling. "Do you think he'll believe that?" Vidya's notes were as close to laughter as they could be, Andrew whining as he threw an arm over his eyes.

He had a feeling that having a soulmate was going to be very, very difficult.