[1] Promises

"Hey, slow down," Danny laughed, twisting his other arm free of his shirt as Sam wrenched it away. She kissed him again frantically, not heeding his words at all, and pushed him back into her disarrayed satin pillows. There was that familiar roughness of the one embroidered spiderweb pattern pillow pressing into his skin. Once he'd turned up home at 3am after accidentally falling asleep at Sam's, only to find Jazz awake in the kitchen and laughing herself silly at the spiderweb pattern etched across half his face and arm. "Sam," he said between kisses, amused by her determination.

"Nnn," she grunted amidst the kiss, ignoring him. One hand ran softly down his side and the other pulled his head in closer to hers.

"Sa–" he tried again, but she wouldn't let him away long enough to talk.

"No," she said, breaking away. "Shut up. Just.." She furrowed her brow and ran both hands into the hair trailing at the base of his neck, gripping tight. "Just shut up for a sec." She wouldn't meet his eyes, but opted instead to stare at the spot on his jaw where her thumb was resting. Quickly she replaced the thumb with her lips, kissing the spot and everywhere around it fervently.

"I'm not going anywhere," Danny breathed, snaking his hands onto the small of her back, tucking them there under the hem of her shirt. "We have time, Sam."

This brought her up short. She leaned away from him, her irritated skepticism plastered thinly across her face like carnival paint. "No we don't," she said, finally, settling back on his lap. "We never have time." Her fingers were tracing the thin network of white scars on his forearm. She made a small "hmph" noise to herself as her fingers reached a mark that was still a scab. It was less than a week old. She looked up at him accusingly, as if the cut proved her point.

To be fair, it kind of did. It was the one he'd gotten the last time they'd tried to have sex. Which was the fifth time they had tried, by the way. It was also the fifth time Danny had to leave almost right away to go deal with a stray ghost.

"We have time," Danny assured her, tugging on her arms meekly. "Come'ere."

"What makes you so sure, hot shot," she asked snidely, "after the other spectacular failures?"

"Just trust me. Don't you trust me?"

Sam snorted. "No. Okay, well maybe you –" her face contorted into a grimace, "–oh god, you didn't tell Tucker to ghost patrol alone, did you…?"

"And Jazz," Danny muttered.

"Danny you boob."

"What? Jazz thinks I'm doing homework," Danny laughed with a shrug. "She doesn't mind."

"Okay but Tucker?"

"Yeah.. Tucker figured it out." Tucker had slapped him on the back and said, "Don't you lie to me Danny Fenton, I'm no dumbass." Danny had begged to differ, but after getting over his initial bout of laughter Tucker had sworn to hold down the fort without Danny and Sam unless Godzilla himself was descending upon Amity Park.

"Oh my god, Danny. Of course Tucker figured it out. What did you expect? It's Tucker!" Her head was in her hands, and he'd be willing to bet anything her face was glowing red.

"Relaaax," Danny urged, prying her hands from her face. "He doesn't give two shits. He figured it out all the other five times we tried, too. What did you expect? It's Tucker."

"Exactly," Sam snapped, mortified. "It's Tucker."

Danny rolled his eyes, sitting up so he could pull her back against his chest and wrap his arms all the way around her waist. She was so small he felt as if he could wrap his arms around her twice and tie them in a knot. "The point is, we've got people on patrol, okay? Val's out there too, and even my parents." He kissed her neck softly, running his hands under her shirt once more. "I..." he trailed off, blushing, recalling their last disaster of a date night. "I didn't want you to feel.. you know... rushed."

Sam leaned her forehead against his cheek, her hands resting aimlessly on her thighs, tugging at a loose strand from the rip in her jeans. "I don't mind," she said quietly after a moment. Too quietly, for Sam that is. His eyes flitted to her face but she was looking out the window, which was currently glassy dark, and untelling. Much like Sam's face, which she'd set into an emotionless mask. He frowned, fairly sure he understood what she meant. Not: "I don't mind having a quickie." She meant: "I don't mind that your ghostcapades interrupt our lives down to the barest, most fundamental levels."

"I mind," he admitted, since he knew she never would. "I want to make time for you," he went on uncertainly. He could feel his face heating up. "It's important to me," he mumbled. Not that he felt she needed convincing of that. She knew. It was just that he couldn't help the sinking sensation whenever they had to cut their time short just for some escaped lunatic. It felt like he was putting those obligations above her. But the truth was (and the realization was a little unnerving) that he'd never had anything top his priority list so indisputably as Sam Manson. So why was it that every time he turned around he was putting her second and third and fourth?

The first time they'd tried and failed, Danny had phased back into her room around four in the morning. She had been sprawled across her bed. She was no longer half naked, but had put on his shirt and fallen asleep on top of a book, bending the pages at rugged angles. He had gently removed it from her cheek and tried to smooth out the pages. Eventually he'd lifted up the corner of her desk and set the book beneath it, hoping to force it straight again.

He could still see the same book from here. Sam had never bothered to take it out. It left her desk steeply crooked, and all the pencils had rolled onto the carpet.

Now Sam was kissing him again, but softer this time. Less urgently, like they had nowhere to be and all day to be there. He liked that.

As he tipped Sam off his lap and leaned over her, he shoved the blinking alarm clock off her night stand onto the floor so they couldn't see what time it was. He didn't want to have the urge to check.

"Hey! I need that to wake up, you know."

"Who says you're going to sleep?" Danny suggested slyly, popping open the button on her jeans.

Sam was utterly unaffected by his charm. She stared icily up at him with one raised eyebrow. "Maybe I will go to sleep, you smartass."

Danny pouted, tracing the seam of her pants. "After all the trouble I went through to set up this date?"

"Uhh, I feel like Tuck and Jazz are probably having way more trouble than we are right now."

"Yeah right. They're not battling an attitude the size of Mount Rushmore."

"Oh okay, I didn't realize we were including trouble with character flaws. Otherwise I might have brought up your tendency to make jokes when you get really nervous."

"I – " Danny faltered, and the fake pout became real.

"Danny, I'm joking," she giggled, fingering the belt loops on his pants. It was incredibly strange to hear her giggle. If he wasn't mistaken, he could swear she sounded a tiny bit nervous too.

He grumbled inaudibly, glaring at her hands as she gradually undid his belt. He'd be damned if he was gonna help her. Let her struggle a bit. "What?" she laughed, her voice still uncharacteristically high pitched. He grumbled louder, but no more understandably, and phased off the belt Sam was still struggling to tug out.

"Hey! No cheating, Danny! Thought you wanted to take our time, huh?"

"Okay okay," he relented, beaming. "No cheating. Want me to put the belt back on and start over?"

"Ugh. Nope," she said quickly. "Starting over is for the weak." And she yanked him down, back into the pillows, pulling him on top of her.

He dissolved into the kiss, into her hands running over his torso, breathing heavily and loudly as the weight of his body pressed her into the soft mattress. "So I'm not allowed to phase off your shirt either?" he complained in her ear. She didn't bother answering. "Then come here."

He pushed himself up off her, sitting back on his legs and pulling her up into his lap in one fluid motion, leaving her free to help him tug her tee up over her head. She shook her frazzled hair back into place as he pulled the cotton shirt away, revealing miles of smooth pale skin. Dimly he wondered if she had picked out this bra today knowing he'd be taking it off later. Heat crept into his cheeks once more as he ran his hands lightly down the brim of the lacy black fabric, listening to the sound of his rough calluses brushing the lace, until he reached the tiny green bow in the very center. It looked like a freaking present. He couldn't help it. He laughed.

"What?" she said immediately and defensively. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," he assured her. "Just that it's really.. cute. That's all."

"Oh." And just like that she was oddly quiet again. He slid a strap down her left shoulder, wishing he wasn't so damn nervous all of a sudden. He hadn't been nervous about kissing her for a long time, or nervous about touching her, but it was the inevitability of what was still coming that had him suddenly as shy as if he was still fourteen.

"Too bad it has to come off right?" he laughed as he reached around her soft back, searching for the little clasp.

"Jokes. Nerves. Did I mention you make jokes when you're – "

"Shut up, you love my jokes." At that moment his cell buzzed loudly from across the room and skittered an inch or two across the desk, causing Danny to jump and accidentally break the clasp he was working so carefully to unhook. "Oh shit. Sorry.."

Sam murmured, ducking her arms out of the straps, "I don't care. I have a million of these. It doesn't matter." She dropped the bra behind him as she looped her arms up around his neck. "Are you.. are you gonna answer it?"

Danny glanced back at the phone, before shaking his head adamantly. It went against all his instinct, since the only people who texted him were his family, Tuck, and Sam, and whenever he got texts they were usually concerning ghost attacks. He shook his head again, more to remind himself than Sam. Tucker had promised, so he needn't worry.

He wasn't about to dwell on it. Not when his girlfriend was half naked in front of him. He wanted to leap on her, but not as badly as he wanted to honor the idea of taking it slow. They had all night and dammit he was gonna take all night, like any other couple would for their first time. So he kissed a pattern slowly down her neck while his hands re-familiarized themselves with the weight of her breasts. Her head fell back and he moved his hands up to support her weight, moving his kisses lower, placing the lightest of them on one of her nipples, loving the way she sighed every time he touched her. When he took the whole nipple in his mouth he pressed his hands firmly to her hips and grated the fabric of his jeans against hers.

She seized him by the shoulders, rocking her hips again slowly as he warmed her skin with his breath. The firelight glow seeping from her hanging paper lanterns cast warm shadows across her body where he was blocking the light. It left the top of her breasts orange and bright as they rose and fell in steady rhythm. He glanced furtively at her face as he nipped at her lightly, trying to get her to squirm. There was a tiny whimper and she bit her lip. So he did it again and ran his thumb over the other, fishing for a louder response. But Sam whined even more quietly and it nearly killed him.

He was just wishing she would open her eyes and look down at him when his cell phone buzzed again, vibrating the whole desk. Sam flinched, scratching up half his shoulder blade.

"Ow," he hissed, reaching over his shoulder reflexively.

"Sorry," she groaned, leaning around him to peer at the desk. "Maybe you should answer it." She grimaced dejectedly and leaned back onto her hands.

"No way." His eyes fell on her soft stomach, and he ran his palm lightly over the skin there. Sam shivered. "What if it's Tucker?" There was no way he was coming back to that same scene for a sixth time, Sam reclothed and fast asleep. She kept insisting she didn't care but he knew it had to bug her.

"Exactly," Sam frowned. "It might be Tucker. Or Jazz. It might be an emergency."

"This is an emergency."

At that she stuck out her tongue and made a "gag me with a spoon" face, but it was almost instantly taken over by a genuine grin, which disappeared even more quickly, her lips pressing together into a thin questioning line as Danny tugged on her unzipped pants. She took the hint and scooted back off his lap into the pile of pillows, allowing him to slide the jeans down her hips. She looked like the subject of a painting; the way the lavender pillows and the deep crimson bedspread framed her slender body, the frame on the wall above her holding a symmetrical silhouette of a skyline. Except for her hair, which lay tangled and unkempt, strewn across the pillows. She was so pretty.

He silently cursed whoever invented skinny jeans as he struggled awkwardly to work them over the wide curve of her hips, thinking to himself that phasing them off would be a hell of a lot quicker.

But.. screw quick. She wriggled her legs as he slid the fabric down her thighs, and in that moment he became inexplicably happy that she wouldn't let him phase anything off. This might very well be what their first time would have been like if he'd never stepped into The Portal. They were both all-there, without unwanted responsibilities prying them apart with an unrelenting crow bar.

The only sounds were their breaths and the breath of the denim as it slipped away. Her thighs closed automatically as he pulled the jeans over her knees, down to her ankles, and into a pool at the base of the bed, so when he crawled back toward her over creaking bed springs he brought his hand up the inside of her leg, parting them gently so he could ease himself into the space between them. All the remaining area between their bodies vanished in a cluster of kisses. Their skin was hot everywhere they touched, but even so, he felt goosebumps rise on his back and on her arms. Her nipples were tight like pebbles against his chest.

Danny's moan mingled with Sam's as he ground his hips as hard against hers as he dared, pressing her down into the padded mattress, rubbing his erection against the crease of her thin underwear through his jeans. The pressure quickened both their breaths. Her legs wound their way around his, locking him close, and in the most enticing tone he had ever heard she groaned, "Danny," just as her entire desk buzzed under his cell phone once again.

"Shit," he spat, pushing himself up to peek across the room again, that familiar lurch settling in his stomach.

"Danny.." Sam began, with a tired practicality in her voice.

"No." Goddammit, no. He wasn't going to be the one to ruin this for the sixth time a row. If he did, he was officially the shittiest boyfriend on the planet.

Uncertainty skittered across her face and she opened her mouth to protest, but instead of a reply the only thing that came out was a muted "Oh." Danny had chosen that moment to hook his finger under the seam of her black panties. There was a growing wet spot on the inside of the fabric which he parted from her skin with a searching finger. She repeated the sharp "oh" as his finger lightly brushed her damp skin. "Wait," she breathed, effectively freezing his hand.

He tore his eyes off the black material, ready to tell her he was not answering that stupid phone even if it grew wings and started flapping in his face. But instead of lecturing him she grabbed his shoulder and yanked him off balance. In an instant she had straddled him, grinning malevolently.

"Rude," he chastised, running his hands back up her inner thighs.

"You were getting ahead of yourself," she hummed. The paper lanterns backlit her body so that she glowed orange around the edges like some sort of deity. Deep shadows hung as tattoos on the natural curves of her body. He reached up and groped the underside of her breasts, as if he could wipe away the shadows there.

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow at her, running one thumb along the outside of her underwear, pressing deeper when he felt the wet spot where it was beginning to seep through.

She was undeterred. "Yeah." She shimmied down his legs, dragging his jeans unceremoniously as she went, sparing him none of the slow delicacy that he had afforded her. The pants fell to the carpet with a soft thud and a jingle of the keys in his pocket. "There." She raked her hands up his legs as she crawled back toward him, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders and hanging in her face. Her eyes fell on his rumpled checkered boxers, and she ran her hand lightly over the telltale bulge there that displayed plain as day how badly he wanted her. "Now we're even."

Yes, we certainly are, he thought airily. His arms fell limply to the soft bedspread. She sat back on her haunches, barely touching him through the cotton, staring into his eyes with catlike playfulness. His erection was stretching the loose boxers as taut as they would go. Sam glanced down at it the way a cat glances at a toy as it rolls past and silently calculates the best moment to pounce.

It was his turn to bite his lip as she closed her fingers as far around the shaft as they could go with his underwear still barring the way. He groaned pitifully. It was a good thing Sam lived in a mansion, and that two floors and several rooms separated Sam's bedroom from the rest of her sleeping family.

"Does that feel good?" she asked with genuine curiosity, squeezing her fingers around him again.

"Nnng.. yes," he managed, burying his heated face into one of his hands. God, yes. He was unraveling into a pool of nerves and - well, both kinds of nerves. He felt her take her hand away, and a second later she was tugging his hand away from his face. She looked like she was trying not to laugh. She leaned toward him and tugged his arm more, prompting him to push himself up onto one elbow, close enough to kiss her. He trembled against her as she settled firmly onto his lap and slid her tongue between his parted lips.

There was a faraway rumble and a series of clicks, before a gust of cold air assaulted them from the air vent above the bed. A shiver went through her. He could see goosebumps raising up along the tops of her breasts, and he ran his free hand over them affectionately. She shivered even harder. She was always complaining about his morgue-temperature hands.

"I have an idea," he said abruptly. "But it involves cheating, just a little bit…"

Sam glowered at him, but he had already made his move, quickly turning the bedspread beneath them intangible and phasing it in one swoop up through their bodies.

"Much better," he murmured as the thick comforter fell around her body, draping itself across her shoulders.

Sam wrinkled her nose at him, but bit back whatever retort she was summoning up. "Yeah," she admitted, "much better."

She leaned down then to press herself flush against him, burying the both of them under the pile of red blanket. Her soft stomach pressed down against his hard erection, and every time she rocked closer to him he had to struggle to keep quiet. Their breaths were so loud in each other's ears that it took a couple heated minutes to realize that low buzzing sound wasn't just the air conditioning. It was the thud that gave it away, after his ringing phone vibrated its way all the way off her desk and onto the carpet where it continued vibrating, albeit more muffled.

Danny actually whimpered at this point, desperate to believe it was someone else's phone who was ringing.

"Danny, we have to answer it," Sam said reluctantly. "I don't want to either, but we have to."

"Let it go to voicemail," he complained, reaching an arm around her back to keep her from prying away from him.

"I think it already has," she said, suddenly sounding sharp. "Several times."

"I don't care," he muttered back, snaking his other hand down, rubbing it longingly along the supple curve of her hip. He stretched his arm even further and found that wet spot again, fingering it lightly, hoping to distract her from the subject of his phone.

"Danny.." she gasped, as he moved inside the fabric without much preamble. She was so wet that his index finger slipped inside with ease.

His heart fluttered madly against his ribcage. "Say it like that again," he whispered, surprising himself. He slid the solitary finger back out slowly, nuzzling his face into the warm hair draped all across her neck.

"What.." She shuddered as she tried to take a proper breath. He plunged the same finger back in, as slowly as he could manage, as deep as it would go. Her back arched. She writhed against him. The pleasure of her full weight pressing up against the hardness in his boxers was almost too much to stand. "Danny," she repeated. Her motion rustled the blankets above them, letting thin flashes of soft orange light peak in at the edge.

"Yeah," he told her, smiling wanly into her hair. "Like that."

"Stop.. stop distracting me." She clutched helplessly at his chest.

"But it's working..." he argued, stroking the slick inner wall a third time, just as slowly as before.

"Ah-" Her voice caught in her throat. When he moved back in this time her hips bucked against him, forcing his finger deeper.

He cursed silently as the insistent buzzing of his phone filled the room once more, discordant with the low hum of the AC unit somewhere above them. Without waiting for Sam to remark on it again he pushed a second finger inside her, wishing he'd thrown his phone out the window when he'd had the chance. He moved his other hand to the small of her back, pulling her tight against him, rocking his hips in time with hers.

It was only when a different sound filled the space between their panted breaths that the hot lead feeling settled all the way into Danny's stomach. It was another buzzing, but sharper and more staccato.

It was Sam's phone.

Sam froze with comedic immediacy, groaning. "We have to look, Danny."

"I know." He had already withdrawn his hand.

Sam rolled off, looking rather subdued as Danny threw the covers off and threw his legs over the side of the bed, running his other hand raggedly through his tussled hair. This was such bullshit.

In three strides he had crossed the room and picked up the culprit. He unlocked it and his stomach fell further. There were ten texts and seven missed calls, all from Tucker. He scanned the messages. Disappointment quickly faded to shame and worry as he realized what an absolute ass he was for not checking his phone sooner.

"Sam.." he began, but when he turned he found her struggling back into her pants. She refused to look up at him. "Are you coming with?" he asked quietly. He knew it was no use saying "I'll be right back, I promise." That's what he had said all the other times, before coming back to find her sleeping.

"Well I'm not waiting for you again," she snapped. "What's the point? I'd rather be helping than waiting." She surveyed the clasp on her bra testily before dropping it back onto the bed.

Danny sighed and went about hastily donning his strewn clothes. "Look, I'm sorry," he snapped back.

Sam had opted for simply putting her shirt back on without a bra, and as she threw her hair into a messy bun, she flashed him a look. "Don't be sorry. It isn't your fault."

Danny grumbled to himself as he refastened all the buttons on his shirt.

"I can hear you," she protested, "and no it is not. And I'm not upset at you, Danny, really."

"But you are upset," Danny pointed out angrily. Where the fuck did his shoes go, anyway? Did they evaporate?

"But not at you," she insisted. She was waiting by the window, ready to be whisked away to whatever battle they were about to enter. It was too familiar a sight.

"I don't care," Danny seethed, kicking around piles of dirty clothes on the floor. Where the hell were his shoes? "It's not about that! I just.. Where are my shoes?"

"They're right here," Sam said stonily, pointing to the space next to the desk. "Will you calm down? It's okay."

"It's not okay! This sucks, Sam, this seriously sucks."

She folded her arms, leaning back against the black glass. The crimson drapes fell onto her shoulder, obscuring half her face. "Yeah. Why don't you tell me about it some more, Danny. But I'm dealing with it, so you should too."

"No, see that is the problem," he growled, exasperated as he attempted to shove his feet into his sneakers. "I don't want you to have to "deal with" anything." He stared awkwardly at his shoes as he moved toward her, prepared to take flight. "This is all wrong." His two fingers were a little, uh, sticky, and he hastily wiped them on his jeans, suddenly insanely embarrassed.

"It's fine," she ground out, the way people insist "it's fine" when they learn their flight has been delayed for another twenty-four hours.

"It's not fine! Stop saying it's fine."

"Well what do you want me to say, Danny?" Her head fell back and rapped lightly on the dark window, her black hair blending in with the glass. "That I hate this?"

"I don't know."

"That it sucks? That there's a good chance this is how it's always going to be?"

That stung. He said nothing.

Sam groaned loudly and rapped her head against the window a second time, harder. "I shouldn't have said that, Danny. You know I didn't mean it like-"

"Yeah, yeah you did."

"Danny-"

"No, you're right, Sam. It's probably always going to be like this and you know what? I fucking hate this."

"It isn't so bad."

Danny looked up at her incredulously. There was no sincerity in her expression though. She wasn't even trying to convince him she thought it was alright. "You're so full of shit," he said, jokingly, despite himself.

Sam looked upwards and sighed deeply before shoving off from the window, crossing in front of Danny toward her crooked desk. "I know it sucks but it's not the end of the world. I knew what I was getting into when I started dating you, okay? I'm not gonna run off just because ghosts keep interrupting us. I'm used to it. Now can we go and rescue poor Tucker and Jazz please?" She bent down absently and pried the book from underneath the leg of her desk, scanning the pages briefly. It made her grimace.

"Any better?" Danny asked hopefully. He still felt as though the roughed up pages were somehow his fault too.

"No. Let's go."

Danny transformed reluctantly and took Sam by the arm, whisking her away out through the outer wall into the cloudy city night, thinking about Sam and her book and its mangled pages.