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bleedingectoplasm · 2 years ago

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A Spark (Real or Imagined)

This was inspired by the prompts for DP Side Hoes Week Day 1, Tucker and Power Up! Of course, I am posting it on Day 3, but better late than never, I suppose? I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3.

Tucker stands frozen outside of Danny’s bedroom door. He wants to knock, he really does, but for some reason, he can’t get his limbs to cooperate. Some sort of disconnect between his brain and his body is stopping the signals from his synapses from reaching the nerves in his arm.

Maybe it’s some sort of self-preservation instinct. Maybe his body knows that his heart will skip a beat the second he looks into his best friend’s eyes. Maybe his muscles know the best way to maintain homeostasis is to stay far away from Daniel James Fenton and his soft hair and sharp cheekbones and paint splatter freckles.

Ever since Danny and Sam broke up, things have been…different. Well, not between Danny and Sam. Their breakup was amicable, prompted mostly by Sam’s realization that her strong desire to be close to Valerie at all times was not, in fact, entirely platonic and she is, in fact, a lesbian. After the breakup, Danny was…completely fine. Shockingly so. While Tucker never doubted that Danny would fully support Sam’s moment of self-discovery, he expected for there to be some hurt in the fallout. It seemed almost unavoidable. But that hurt never came.

When they talked about it, Danny had just shrugged and said, “we both wanted different things.” He didn’t volunteer any additional information, as if that statement was enough of an explanation in and of itself. And then, Danny had given him that look, the one he’s been wearing more and more lately when he catches Tucker’s gaze. The corners of Danny’s eyes get all soft and his lips quirk up into a fond smile, almost like he’s looking for something and liking what he finds. It’s an expression that makes Tucker’s breath catch in his throat, equal parts intoxicating and unreadable and overwhelming.

The shift in their dynamic hasn’t been because of Danny and Sam. In fact, Tucker is pretty sure that if Danny and Sam had their way, the three of them would still be hanging out every day like nothing has changed at all. No, the difference is entirely within Tucker.

Something stirs in the pit of Tucker’s stomach whenever he and Danny are together. It’s a feeling he is intimately familiar with, a want that has burned inside of him for as long as he can remember. The fluttering of infatuation was much easier to control when Danny was dating someone else. But now that Danny is single again, now that the smallest, dumbest part of Tucker is hopeful that there might be a chance for his friendship with Danny to become something more, he can’t seem to get his butterflies to fly in formation.

Tucker hates it. He hates feeling like a little kid with a schoolyard crush, hates that he can hear his pulse in his ears every time Danny laughs, hates the way that ecstasy tips into nausea whenever Danny’s hand brushes his own at lunch. The butterflies are only manageable when Danny isn’t around, so Tucker has been valiantly trying to avoid him for the past few weeks. He’s made up homework assignments and family commitments and pulsing migraines. Danny knows it’s bullshit, Tucker can tell. He can see it in the little furrow of Danny’s brow and the tiny tilt of his head and slight purse of his lips. However, instead of calling Tucker out, Danny’s skepticism will always melt into that stupid fucking look, and he’ll accept the excuse at face value.

Tucker has been completing his duties to Team Phantom remotely, but his latest project requires face to face interaction with Danny. He’s been working on some modular enhancements to Danny’s suit, and there needs to be a fitting before final adjustments. Tucker tried to just get Danny to send over his measurements, but Danny couldn’t quite figure out how to use the measuring tape properly, for whatever reason.

Mechanical engineering is a bit outside of Tucker’s comfort zone. He’s always been more of a software guy, but Danny’s rubber hazmat suit isn’t doing enough to protect him anymore. Danny’s armor needs an upgrade, and as Danny’s guy in a chair, that responsibility falls squarely on Tucker’s shoulders. So, with little to no experience in practical construction, Tucker has been tasked with crafting something that will protect his best friend and guy he’s maybe sorta kinda in love with from facing mortal injury.

No pressure at all.

It should be a simple visit, really. He just needs to take some measurements, have Danny try a few pieces on, and then he can leave. In and out. Easy.

After one more heavy sigh, his brain and his body finally get on the same page, and he forces himself to knock.

“Come in,” Danny calls, voice muffled through the door.

Slowly, cautiously, Tucker opens the door and steps into the room. Danny is splayed out on his bed, scrolling through his phone. His shirt has ridden up a bit, and Tucker can see a small sliver of skin right above the cut of his hip bone. All the air empties from Tucker’s lungs, and he sharply turns away, unable to meet Danny’s eyes.

Danny throws Tucker a lazy grin as he hauls himself into a sitting position, his movements relaxed and self-assured. Tucker is grateful when Danny’s shirt drops to fully cover his stomach and he can breathe somewhat normally again.

“Hey,” Tucker says, hating himself when his voice waivers. “Hey, dude.” He tries again.

“Hiya, Tuck,” Danny smiles back at him. He stands and stretches his arms above his head, exposing that strip of skin once more. Tucker can feel himself short circuiting. The butterflies have become wasps and are pounding at the edges of his ribcage. He’s pretty sure that all the blood in his body has rushed up to his cheeks to paint him bright red.

This visit may be trickier than he initially thought.

“So, what’s the plan?” Danny asks.

“Uh,” Tucker says eloquently. “Um, yeah. Plan. Right. I’m just going to try these pieces on you and see what adjustments need to be made.”

Danny nods, then asks, “Do I need to change my clothes? Or does this work fine for the whole fitting thing?”

Danny is wearing jeans and an oversized NASA hoodie. The hoodie has a small blotchy stain on one of the sleeves, and Tucker can’t quite tell if it’s remnants of ketchup or blood. The stitching of the front pocket is ripping, like Danny has shoved his hands inside of it a bit too hard a few too many times. The jeans are fraying at the edges, and Tucker is pretty sure that they’re the same pair of pants that Danny has been wearing for the last four school days.

He looks beautiful.

“Are you wearing a shirt under the hoodie?” Tucker manages to ask around the lump in his throat.

Danny cocks an eyebrow at him.

“I just mean for fitting purposes,” he rushes to explain. “The hoodie looks like it might be a little thick so, you know-“

“Yeah, I gotcha,” Danny interrupts, stopping Tucker from embarrassing himself further. “I can take it off, one sec.”

Danny crosses his arms over himself, grabbing the sweatshirt from the bottom hem and lifting it over his head. Mercifully, his t-shirt remains in place, and Tucker is spared from seeing any flash of Danny’s torso.

Danny tosses the hoodie onto the bed before ruffling his unruly hair back into place.

“All good?”

Tucker swallows. Hard. “Great,” he chokes out.

The air between them is supercharged with a tension that Tucker can’t quite place. He steps closer to Danny, removing the armor prototypes from his duffel bag and laying them onto the bed.

Piece by piece, Tucker places the suit upgrades on his friend’s body, snapping and buckling the flexible plating into place. He tightens the breastplate around Danny’s chest, careful to touch only the armor itself, refusing to indulge in fantasies of resting his hand on the small of Danny’s back. As he settles the shoulder piece across Danny’s collarbone, he can feel Danny’s icy breath dance across his cheek. It’s tantalizing, and it takes all of Tucker’s willpower to hold himself back.

His fingertips just barely brush against Danny as he places the final piece of the armor around Danny’s forearm. There’s a spark that skitters across the surface of Tucker’s skin where they made contact, and for a moment he thinks it’s just in his head, the same sort of electricity he always feels whenever he gets too close to Danny. But as he catches the incremental shift in Danny’s expression as he winces, he realizes the spark was very real.

Tucker jerks his hand away from Danny, tripping over himself to apologize. “I’m sorry, this is new tech and all, but it shouldn’t have—”

His voice seizes as Danny catches Tucker’s hand in his own and presses Tucker’s palm firmly against his arm, refusing to break eye contact. The atmosphere in the room shifts and gravity collapses into them. Tucker can’t move away, he doesn’t want to. He may never move from this spot ever again. He keeps waiting for Danny to say something, but Danny offers no explanation. The only sound in the room is the twin rattling of their breathing. Danny’s bedroom has become a cathedral, and speaking would disturb the holiness of the atmosphere.

The moment stretches into an eternity. Tucker can feel a flush licking over his skin like fire. He is afraid he may burn up, completely consumed by the flames of his own desire. In a last attempt at self-preservation, Tucker finally finds his voice.

“What are you doing?” The question resonates in the room with a rasp.

There it is again. The look. Tucker’s nerve endings are lit anew.

“Pressure is good for pain,” Danny explains. The twinkle in his eye dares Tucker to disagree.

Tucker’s head is pounding. The butterflies have migrated from his stomach to his skull. His entire body is an inferno. The metaphors are getting all mixed up and Tucker can hardly move. Breathe. Think.

Danny edges forward by a nanometer, and his nose is practically brushing against Tucker’s cheek. He doesn’t know when Danny got so close. Tucker turns his head on instinct, and he can feel Danny’s breath skitter across his lips. An electric sensation zings down Tucker’s spine. His mouth parts ever so slightly, and the movement causes Danny’s eyes to dart down to Tucker’s lips. He can see Danny swallow, hear his shuddering breath, feel his uneven pulse where his fingers hook around Danny’s inner elbow.

Danny moves impossibly closer. Tucker is frozen, either in fear or anticipation. He’s not quite sure. For the briefest moment, Tucker thinks that Danny’s lips will meet his own. He braces himself for the brush of Danny’s chapped lips. He doesn’t know what he wants. He wants this. He wants everything. He wants nothing at all.

Suddenly, Danny pulls away, opening a vacuum between them. Tucker gasps, feeling as if he has been plunged into an ice bath. Danny seems completely nonchalant.

“This looks great, Tuck,” Danny flexes a bit, turning his arm to get a better look at his new gear. “Thanks for the power up.”

Tucker is still struggling to catch his breath. “Uh, yeah. Of course. Anytime.”

“And Tucker?” Danny peers over at him, a patient smile painted across his freckled face.

Tucker absentmindedly rubs his thumb across his lips, the ghostly memory of Danny’s breath still buzzing beneath his skin. “Yeah?”

“Let me know when you’re ready, okay?”

Tucker has never been more confused in his entire life. “When I’m ready?”

He forces himself to meet Danny’s gaze, and only to be met once more with the look.

God fucking damn it.

“Yeah. Just let me know.” Danny says softly, lovingly. “I’ll be here.”

#savant par #danny phantom #danny fenton #tucker foley #danny fenton x tucker foley #danny fenton/tucker foley #tucker foley x danny fenton #tucker foley/danny fenton #dp side hoes week 2023 #i am on my romance novel bullshit!!!#ecto writes #as i am ought to do #also can you tell i like physical descriptors? i am so very subtle about it <3

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