Lovebird Watching
by Frankie'N
Summary:With dangerous entities like ghosts constantly occupying the skies, the residents of Amity Park don't exactly have time for something as mundane as birdwatching. Lovebird watching, however, is a whole other story.
The Danny-Sam phenomenon told from the perspective of everyone around them. (And later told from their own perspectives)
A/N- First new story in a decade! Hopefully my writing skills have improved. Summary says it all: I'll be telling their story in fragments, from different points of view until I eventually get to the couple themselves. Well, to be more accurate, the stories are told in third person, but revolve around the experiences of the specified character. The story will go back and forth (not chronological) to keep things... fresh.
Disclaimer: Don't own Danny Phantom or the rights to it. No need to rub it in my face, geez.
THE JOCK: Dash Baxter
Everything changed at the start of their senior year.
Dash began thinking that maybe Fentina wasn't such a loser after all, for choosing to spend all his time with the Manson chick.
It wasn't the only glass-shattering revelation he had that year, but it was certainly the first, given who he was: someone who had spent the better half of his seventeen years panting after hot girls.
It was precisely on the first day of school that he noticed it. Dash had been stalking the hallways, fuming over his third F of the week when he spotted Fentoad and his two geek friends chatting and laughing against their lockers, lost to the world as they often were. The sight of it irked him for reasons he couldn't quite place, but as the combination of confusion and frustration was nothing new to him, he chose to act instead of reflect. The decision to do that was nothing new to him, either.
He stomped over to the trio, announced something about how he was gonna make the most of the last year he'd get to torture the loser, and promptly proceeded to cram him into his locker.
That little stunt earned him a few high fives from his teammates, plus the usual scathing glare from the Manson girl.
"God, can't you pick on someone your own s-species for a change?" she bit out as she began to fiddle with the combination of the locker he had just stuffed Fenton into. It was something she had said many times in the past, but this was the first time Dash took note of the way she stuttered over the word "species," stumbling over the "s" as if she'd really meant to say something else. Dash wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, but even he had to notice something strange after she'd made the same near-slip for the hundredth time. This time, he realized that there used to be an older version of the jab. For the first couple of years of high school, Manson used to ask him if he couldn't pick on someone his own size, instead. Only that wouldn't make sense now, Dash thought to himself with growing alarm. Fenton's practically the same size as I am. In fact (and Dash really hoped it was just his imagination) but was Fenton actually a little… taller than him?
This led him to another thought. If that were the case, how on earth could he still fit into those lockers?
Frustrated with his own (rare) musings and irritated as he always was with things he couldn't explain, Dash opted to lash out at the nearest unpopular kid rather than sort out his thoughts. "Whatever, Manson." he growled, reaching over to smack the books held securely in her arms, sending them tumbling to the ground.
Big mistake.
Manson swore loudly and bent down to retrieve her belongings, leaving Foley to figure out the locker combination.
That was when Dash looked at her— really looked at her— for the first time since he'd dismissed her as a goth freak back in the beginning of high school. She was unwittingly granting him access to a glimpse down her shirt, which he now noticed contained breasts that were fuller and more rounded than they had been a few years ago. His eyes trailed down the rest of her figure: the exposed navel, the swell of her hips… the thighs that were peeking out of her short skirt, hiked even higher as she moved to collect her things. She was wearing nearly all black, as she always had in the past, but the effect was different now— there was something unforgivingly sultry about the tight, form-fitting skirt and the fishnet sleeves adorning her arms. It was almost cruel, and Dash nearly choked on his own disbelief.
After finally gathering all her books, she drew herself to her full height and fixed him with a glare once again. He couldn't help but study her face, which had only grown lovelier over the years as she'd matured.
"What are you looking at, Baxter?" she sneered at him, snapping him out of his daze just as Fenton stumbled out of the locker that Foley somehow managed to unhinge. Dash didn't miss the way Fenton's eyes shifted to him, flashing briefly with an unusual, dangerous gleam. He would've found it strange if he hadn't been so distracted.
"You." Dash blurted out without thinking, then quickly added "Freak." in an attempt to save face.
Manson rolled her eyes at him. "Then why don't you take a fucking picture and tape it to the inside of your locker?" she snapped, not missing a beat. "You clearly haven't gotten over your juvenile urge to keep people in there. Grow up."
Dash could only stare at her blankly as, to his absolute horror, instead of feeling the usual pinpricks of irritation at her words, he could feel the beginnings of desire stirring in his stomach. Her snarky attitude was actually something of a turn on now that he realized she looked the way she did, and he… he kind of wanted her. God, Manson, of all people! The very same goth geek he'd made fun of for years; whose friends he continued to torment, whose mere presence made him want to wretch— or so he used to claim.
He could scarcely believe it. Disgusted by this new finding, Dash stormed off without saying another word.
A week passed since the strange incident by the lockers— enough time for Dash to turn his newfound attraction over about a thousand times in his head. After the initial shock had worn off, he decided he could have some fun— flirt a little bit with the goth girl, maybe cop a feel or two out of it, and get a rise out of Fentonia. Two fish; one stone, or whatever that dumb saying was.
It was with this thought in mind that he found himself cornering her by her lockers again after class.
She had her back to him, but she looked over shoulder just as he approached, almost as if she could sense him coming. "What is it, Dash? Come to stuff my friends into their lockers again?" She twisted around to face him, but everything about her stance— from the hand lazily planted on her hip, to the bored expression on her face— told him she was as unperturbed as ever.
His only reaction was to smirk down at her, thinking he'd have her singing a different tune in a matter of minutes. "Nope! I came here to talk to you. Mind if I have a word?"
Sam's eyebrow raised and she opened her mouth, looking as if she wanted to say that yes, she did mind, thank you very much— until curiosity seemed to get the better of her and she nodded in acquiescence. "Just give me a second."
Dash watched as she turned to her two loser friends, who looked as horrified as though they just caught Lancer without his shirt (not a pretty picture). "I'll catch up with you, guys." She assured them.
Fenton shook his head, looking more serious and protective than Dash had ever seen him. "No way. We're gonna wait right here."
Manson rolled her eyes at him. "Danny, I can take care of myself."
"I know, I know. But, Sam-"
"Danny."
Even from where Dash was standing, he could hear Fenton's loud sigh. "Alright. But you be careful. We'll wait for you outside."
"So guess what? Today's your lucky day, Manson." Dash had stretched one arm out to cage the dark-haired girl between himself and the lockers once Fen-turd and Foley were well out of sights.
"Oh, rapture." she replied in her usual sarcastic drawl. "My lucky day, huh? Have you come to bid a tearful farewell after getting tested positive for a bunch of STDs?"
"Nope!" he exclaimed again, knowing that his gung-ho attitude only irked her more. Her ire was secretly kind of arousing, and he would continue to provoke her so that he could bear witness to it. He grinned down at her as she glared up at him, and for a few seconds, there was silence. Finally, she caved, releasing a puff of air that blew a strand of hair away from her face. "Alright. I'll humor you, Baxter. Why is it my lucky day?" she asked sweetly, voice dripping with sugar and sarcasm.
"It's your lucky day today, Manson, because today I'm finally asking you out."
She blinked at him. Twice. "Say what now." She asked, her tone flat.
"You heard right." He declared, flexing his muscles a bit as he regarded her, thinking it wouldn't hurt his case any. On the contrary, he was sure it would only aid him in his mission. "So are you doing anything tonight?"
Dash missed the way she narrowed her eyes at him. "As a matter of fact-"
"Well, you are now." He cut in smoothly. "Pick you up at seven?"
"Whoa, hold it right there, hotshot. First of all, you don't even know where I live, and I wouldn't be stupid enough to tell you. Second of all, I already have plans. And lastly, even if I didn't, what makes you so sure I'd jump at the chance to jump you?"
But Dash's grin only broadened. He'd expected her to put on a show like that. If there was one thing he learned about Manson over the years, it was that she put up a good fight. And for the first time, he was willing to admit that it was actually pretty hot. "Come on, babe, this hard-to-get act's getting old. You know we both want it."
"H-hard to-!" She choked on the phrase and fixed him with wide eyes. "What the hell have you been huffing, Baxter? Is this some kind of sick joke?" Not giving him a chance to reply, she added: "I have a boyfriend, you know."
He snorted at that. "No you don't. You have Fenton."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Yeah. My boyfriend. I know it's kinda recent, but surely word has reached you about it? Money's been flying all over the place from all the bets." It seemed that in spite of her anger, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the thought of those bets, and Dash nearly laughed.
"Yeah, I heard." He acknowledged the news with a half-hearted shrug. "Does it matter? I'm interested in you now. So how 'bout it?"
He may have wanted to see a bit of her ire at first, but she was practically radiating the stuff now. "God, no! How many times do I have to tell you-"
But Manson never got to finish what was surely going to be a lengthy, vicious rant, because at that exact moment, a cold chill swept over them, making them both shiver. The icy breeze was the only warning they received before an infamous pair of glowing green eyes and snow-white hair materialized out of thin air. Phantom stood directly between them, and Dash unconsciously took a step backward— partly out of surprise, but mostly from apprehension. The ghost was grinning, but there was something decidedly unfriendly about it. The aura he exuded seemed different from his usual one, making Dash realize just how light and easygoing Phantom normally appeared, especially compared to other ghosts.
The highly-debated town hero angled his body toward Manson, but not before allowing his eyes to flicker to Dash for one unsettling second. "Is this guy bothering you, miss?" he inquired in an oddly loud voice.
Her eyes flickered to Dash before she turned to address the ghost, much in the same way he had done a second earlier, and if Dash had been more observant he might have noticed the strangeness of it. "Yes. But he's leaving now." she answered.
That snapped Dash out of his stupor. "No, he isn't." He cut in.
Phantom rose from the ground effortlessly, frowning down a little at Dash as he hovered a few feet in the air. The ghost studied him for a brief moment before the corner of his mouth tugged into a more familiar, good-natured smirk. "I suggest you leave the lady alone, dude. She doesn't seem interested."
Dash scowled at his unsolicited advice. What the hell was Phantom doing here anyway, and where did he even come from? Last Dash checked, Phantom's heroic acts were limited to encounters of the ghostly variety. He had no business spouting out no-means-no after school special shit to guys who just wanted a little action. He was about to tell the ghost exactly that to his face, but the glare Phantom suddenly fixed him with was so intense; it gleamed with something menacing and… strangely familiar. Either way, it scared the living shit out of him.
"Alright, Jesus. I'll back off." He conceded. He glanced back at Manson, who looked as though she was trying very hard not to laugh at the whole exchange.
"Good." Phantom nodded at him superiorly, then turned to acknowledge her. "Now run along, miss. It's a Friday. I'm sure you've got a nice date planned out with your loving, handsome boyfriend!"
At this, Manson actually snorted just as Phantom saluted before fading out of visibility. "Right. Well, I'm off. Wouldn't want to keep that loving, handsome boyfriend waiting." She nodded at Dash in an unaffected see ya sort of way, then ditched him.
Just like that.
Dash was royally pissed off, to say the least.
Rejected. By that freaky goth geek. For Fenton.
He thought he'd never live it down, was positive that he wouldn't survive the humiliation. For the remainder of the week, he was in the absolute worst of moods, whaling on other kids more often than he usually did— especially on Fenton. But this only seemed to drive Manson further into the other boy's arms, so concerned was she over his well-being, guilt written clearly across her pretty features. It made Dash feel even sicker to his stomach.
And then— just as he was beginning to accept that he'd gone permanently insane from trying to wrap his head around why the hell any girl would pick Fenton over him, it happened.
The biggest revelation of the year.
And not just for Dash, either, oh no— it was the biggest revelation the entire town would have in years, decades, maybe even centuries.
If he thought being kinda into Manson was hard to swallow, this was like trying to scarf down one of her mud pies. Made from real mud. Without chewing.
It had happened a few weeks after Dash's failed attempt at getting Manson to go out with him. What had first seemed— to the general population, at least— to be a typical ghost fight turned out to be… uh, not-so-typical, after all. Because typically, a ghost would appear and wreak havoc on the school, Phantom would come out of seemingly nowhere, kick some butt, and save the day. But this ghost seemed to outmatch Phantom, or was at least of equal strength. Dash was actually not quite sure if the other ghost was just that— a ghost— or perhaps a vampire, as well. If he wasn't, he certainly looked like one. His hair was dark and tapered at the ends, creating the image of devil horns sitting atop his head. He wore an old-fashioned, white cloak, and his fangs glistened ominously as he taunted the ghost boy. Most unnerving of all were his eyes. They were an eerie, glowing red, and unlike Phantom's, they were pupil-less. Dash had seem him cause trouble several times before, but he could never remember his name… well, it didn't matter. What did matter was that something Dash couldn't quite follow happened in the middle of their fight. The vampire-like-ghost took out a strange weapon— something that looked like it could have easily been invented by the Fentons— and used it to fire at Phantom. The result was a sickening, ear-splitting electric shock that left the town hero collapsing to the ground in a crumpled, motionless heap.
But it was the next few seconds that changed the town forever. It was the next few seconds that changed the course of history forever.
Because in those next few seconds, a pair of blindingly bright rings swept across polar ends of the ghost boy's body.
Fenton was Phantom.
And just like that, everything seemed to make sense. Except, at the same time, nothing seemed to make sense at all.
Fenton's record-breaking number of tardies now made sense, for instance. And it made sense that he'd abruptly head for the hills every time a ghost showed its glowing face. It made sense that he always seemed more terrified and freaked out then weirded out or even embarrassed by his parents. It explained why he was always falling asleep in class, or why he'd repeatedly drop chem lab beakers, test tubes— not to mention his own pants— back in his freshman year. It explained why Fenton could still fit into lockers (Dash later discovered that he'd turn parts of himself intangible while he was inside).
But what didn't make sense was why he had wanted to go to such lengths to hide what had certainly been the coolest thing to ever happen to anyone in Amity Park; why he'd been actively trying to hide his lean muscle, his confident gait, his fighter's grace, his athletic prowess. Why and how he could tolerate how majority of the student body had treated him. He was the jocks' favorite punching bag, both physically and verbally. Even the kids beneath the A-Lister crowd liked to laugh at his expense, his supposed clumsiness. No ordinary guy would have wanted to trade places with Fenton. No ordinary girl would have wanted him. The girls wouldn't have so much as looked his way, not unless it was to snigger at him.
Well, at least now Dash could wrap his head around why Manson would turn down someone like him for her beloved Danny.
Fenton was stronger. More powerful. Hell, he wasn't just more powerful, he had actual powers. He had saved the town multiple times, and he was definitely more famous than Dash. Cooler. This Dash could accept as a reason for her rejection. I fold, he thought. It made sense that Manson would pick Fenton over him. Besides— and he shuddered as he recalled the inhuman glares he'd received from the half-ghost for just looking at the girl for too long—if he didn't fold, Fenton could undoubtedly kill him with his bare hands. He'd do it too, if that dangerous, jealous glint in his eye was anything to go by. One time the glint had literally been his eyes flashing an otherworldly green, but Dash opted not to relive that particular instance if he could help it.
Needless to say, Dash Baxter's pursuit of Samantha Manson came to an abrupt halt, and he never dreamed that he'd actually get a chance to lay his hands on her again.
But that school year had been full of surprises, and it wasn't too long before Dash encountered another bend in the road.
Several months after the Big Reveal, Danny Fenton lost his powers in an almost ironic display of events.
The same ghost that had unmasked Danny Phantom before an unsuspecting teenaged audience had showed up at the school again. And it was strange. Everything happened in very much the same manner— a surprise visit/attack on the school, a long, drawn-out battle between the two ghosts, and a weapon not unlike those that the Fenton family were infamous for. This time, however, the Wisconsin ghost (as Dash eventually learned he was often called) brandished a sphere-like object. When he activated it, several shiny, electronic tentacles with what appeared to be electrically-charged bulbs at the ends shot forth and latched themselves onto Fenton. Just like before, the attack forced a transformation out of the half-ghost boy and left him unconscious on the floor.
Only this time, even after he awoke, he couldn't change back. His powers were gone.
It was that very same week that he decided to approach Sam Manson again. After all, she was practically the only hot girl in the entire school that had ever turned him down, and that fact alone was enough to fuel his bullheaded (albeit shallow) interest in her. What's more, word got out about Manson's family shortly after Fenton's Reveal. Her folks were loaded. Hell, she was a freaking heiress. That, plus her looks, would certainly earn her a spot at the A-List table. And with Fenton's powers out of the way, Dash was feeling pretty damn good about trying his luck with her again.
He waited till classes were over, just like the last time, before strutting over to her locker, where she was fixing her things. Luckily enough, neither Fenton nor Foley were flanking her as usual— but Dash simply assumed it was only natural that Manson would choose not to associate with them now that the former boy no longer had his powers.
The hallways were mostly empty, and it was with newly regained confidence and a well-placed smirk that Dash leaned against the locker next to hers. "Well, Manson? When're you gonna break the news to Fen-turd?"
She didn't even look up from her task of assorting her books to address him. "What news? I think he was the first one to notice he couldn't use his powers anymore, Dash." It was only after arranging her things that she withdrew from her locker to face him, eyebrow quirked, lips firmly pressed together in an impatient line.
Dash plowed through, unfazed. "Not that news, babe. The news that you're gonna drop him for bigger fish." He draped an arm over her shoulders as she looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, too confused to react to the physical contact.
And then suddenly, she threw her head back, throwing his arm off, and laughed at him. Laughed at him. "Oh… oh, Dash." she managed to breathe out in a tone that seemed to be a combination of amusement and… was that actual pity in her voice? He had never heard anyone address him with pity before! "I'm not with Danny because he's Phantom."
"Wha-"
"Fenton or Phantom or both, as long as he stays Danny, then I'm staying with him, alright?" she fixed him a look and shook her head in a way that said she had no idea why she even bothered to clarify that to him, but was too amused to care either way. And then she casually slammed her locker door shut and just left him there in the middle of the hallway. Again.
True to her word, Manson stayed with Fenton even during the few months that it seemed he would never get his powers back, and she continued to stay with him after he was both Fenton and Phantom again.
He began to see what everyone else saw when they looked at the pair. And although he endured a wide variety of encounters that involved the two throughout high school (including the embarrassing but very real fear that Fenton would completely obliterate him with one of his glowing-green ectoblasts every time he caught him eyeing his girlfriend), that brief conversation he had with Sam Manson stood out among his many odd memories of the couple for years to come.
THE PRINCESS: Paulina Sanchez
It wasn't until decades later, during their high school graduating class' 20th year reunion, that Paulina began to understand the phenomenon that was Danny and Sam.
The day started off better than most. She had been so excited for the reunion; thrilled at the prospect of reclaiming her crown. In the twenty years that had passed after graduation, life hadn't been so great. College wasn't much of an option for her, so she decided to pursue fame. She did manage to land a few modeling gigs here and there, what with her looks and her family's influence, but she never quite achieved the same level of popularity in the real world as she had so relished in her high school days.
She stepped into the familiar halls of Casper High feeling confident and ready to be showered with the same old adoration from her former classmates. True, several years had passed since then, but Paulina knew she still looked damn good. She had opted for a fashionably late entrance, expecting crowds to part and heads to swivel around to admire her as she sashayed down the halls— and perhaps she would have gotten that reaction too, if their attention had not already been directed elsewhere.
A mass of former students, now adults, were crowded around one of the larger janitor's closets. The air around them practically buzzed with laughter and excitement.
Paulina elbowed her way through the growing crowd, shoving a few people out of her path until she made it to the doorway. "What is everybody gawking at-?"
But her cry was cut short as her eyes landed on the raven-haired pair standing inside the miniature room, just behind the open doorway.
Danny Fenton and Sam Manson— or Sam Fenton, rather— were whispering frantically to each other as they attempted to straighten out their clothes, which were in rather obvious disarray. They were having a private argument, and Paulina doubted anyone but she could hear them, as she was standing closest to the door.
"I told you this was a bad idea!"
"Well, we were early for once! Don't tell me you never thought about trying that in here."
"God Danny, if you could just keep it in your pants for—"
Paulina took that as her cue to clear her throat loudly. It seemed to do the trick. The couple whipped their heads around, eyes wide as if noticing their audience for the first time. With the way they tended to get completely absorbed in each other, it would be no surprise.
Sam at least had the grace to look slightly embarrassed as she moved to grab her purse. "Excuse us. We're sorry—"
"I'm not." Danny quipped, grinning from ear to ear and looking truly remorseless as he wrapped his jacket around his wife.
"Danny!" Sam smacked him lightly on the shoulder, but was unable to stop the corners of her mouth from twitching upwards in amusement. "Excuse us." she said again, tugging her husband by the arm. "Sorry for the uh, the disturbance."
The Fentons stumbled out of the closet, scampering down the hallway hand-in-hand and laughing mischievously like a couple of lovestruck teenagers.
Paulina said nothing as the two fled the scene. She remained silent as her former classmates hooted and cheered loudly at them. She stood there, frozen, with an all-too-familiar jealousy for the other woman resurfacing at a rapid pace.
Toward the latter part of high school she had amped up her efforts to sabotage Samantha Manson, not only because she had wanted Danny Fenton for herself after she discovered the ghost boy's true identity, but also because she had secretly acknowledged that the goth girl had grown into a beauty that rivaled even herself— a crime Paulina was not willing to leave unpunished. Manson was also undeniably intelligent, talented and fearless— and she never once submitted to any of the queen bee's threats. If she had all that going for her plus looks, where did that leave Paulina? What did she have that set her aside from everyone else? All her life she'd been showered with praise about her appearance; she was accustomed to getting her way because of her looks. She knew beauty was her weapon and she knew how to wield it well. The problem (although she'd sooner drop dead than admit it to anyone) was that oftentimes it felt like the only weapon in her arsenal, so to speak.
But she had never been more jealous of Sam as she was at that moment, not even when she had first discovered that the goth's dorky boyfriend was actually her beloved ghost boy.
Because she knew, hell, their entire graduating class knew that only Danny and Sam could be this crazy about each other even after twenty-two years of being together (as an official couple— everyone knew they'd been together far longer than that). Although she had yet to fully accept it, she knew deep down, far from the edges of her conscious awareness, that in spite of all the admirers she had rejected, all the dates she'd been on and all the boyfriends she'd dumped, she had never had, and perhaps never would have a love like theirs.
To add insult to injury, her once-adoring populace had chosen to swarm around Danny and Sam during the party itself. They crowded around the couple and asked them question after question— questions about their adventures, questions about ghosts, even questions about their love life and the little incident in the janitor's closet earlier. Paulina couldn't get a word in edgewise.
The disappointment and frustration ate at her sanity until she felt like she couldn't breathe. The cheerfully-decorated gymnasium with its red and white streamers and Casper High banners suddenly felt too hot, too stuffy, too crowded, too… everything. She had to get out of there.
Paulina had been standing right outside the gym doors for all of fifteen minutes when Sam Manson came out of them, surrounded by an entourage of five or so women— the very same women who had once worshipped the ground Paulina walked on, she noted. Her eyes flickered back to Sam, who had the nerve to appear bored and even bothered by their presence. Her lips curled at the sight of it, and as the group headed for the ladies' room, a plan began to form in Paulina's mind. She had to fight back the urge to grin with unrestrained glee. Her plan would be just perfect.
She took a minute to compose herself before bursting through the gym doors and making a beeline for Danny Fenton, who was thankfully pouring himself a drink, enjoying a break from his fans, alone. She tugged at his arm urgently and lowered her voice. "Danny! Thank 've got to come with me! I think I saw a ghost in the hallway, but I'm not too sure. I didn't want to make a big fuss over it and scare everyone, but you've got to come quickly!"
Instead of looking alarmed, he merely groaned in exasperation. "Of course there's a ghost. It wouldn't be a Casper High reunion without one. Alright, Paulina, show me where you think you saw it."
She nodded and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the triumphant expression on her face. She led him toward the gym doors, passing by Star on the way and whispering for her to let Sam know when she got back from the restroom that Danny was headed off to the Janitor's Closet to inspect the premises for a ghost.
Perhaps one of Danny's best qualities, in Paulina's opinion, was his extraordinary cluelessness. It had certainly served its purpose several times in the past, whenever Paulina had a scheme or an underhanded motive back in high school that somehow involved him. This particular situation was no different, she figured, as she pulled Danny down the school corridors by the arm, enjoying the feel of his still-defined bicep all the while. She could feel excitement bubbling in her stomach as the same janitor's closet from a few hours earlier came into view, and once again she praised herself for coming up with such a perfect plan. "Here!" she declared as she skidded to a halt in front of the door.
Danny turned his head this way and that, looking puzzled. "Are you sure, Paulina? My ghost sense isn't really picking up on anything, maybe it—"
"Definitely here! You better take a good look inside!" and with that, she yanked the door open and pushed him into the cramped room. She trotted in after him, shutting the door closed behind them and locking it for good measure.
She stood patiently as Danny inspected the room, still oblivious to her plans. "Over there?" she suggested, pointing to a spot high above, near the ceiling.
Danny, predictably, tilted his head upwards to look. "I don't think I see anythi-"
Quick as a flash, Paulina grabbed his face with both hands while he was caught off guard, and pulled his mouth down to hers.
The kiss lasted for half a second before she felt a cold chill touching her lips and fingertips. With her eyes closed, she briefly wondered if this was the electric, thrill-inducing spark that everyone says you're supposed to feel when you kiss the person you're meant to be with. But that theory was short-lived as she quickly felt the chill slip past her. She opened her eyes to find that it was in fact him that had slipped past her fingertips, phasing himself away from her touch with well-practiced ease.
Whatever shock she felt from his narrow escape was easily surpassed by the abject horror that was written all over his face. He seemed to be at a loss for words, but his startled, wide-eyed stare seemed to be screaming What on earth do you think you're doing?
Frustrated by his response (or lack thereof) to her advances, and angered even further by his inability to say anything, she snapped. "What makes her so special anyway?" Paulina practically screeched at him, plunging headfirst into the very insecurity that was the root of all her scheming. She felt her hackles rise at the unexpected turn of events, all pretenses of seductive mystery and poise forgotten. "What the hell is she to you?"
Even as the words tumbled out of her lips, she knew they were a mistake. But she refused to take them back; so irritated was she at his rejection.
Danny's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and it would have been comical if he didn't look absolutely livid. She didn't think she'd ever seen him look so… well, appalled was a very kind, mild word for it.
"What is she to me?" He echoed, voice rising in his blatant disbelief. "She's my childhood friend… my best friend, my partner in ghost fighting, in work, in… in everything! My lover, my wife, the mother of my children?"
Paulina very nearly gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. Alright, already. Don't get your boxer briefs in a twist. Not one to be deterred, however, she simply nodded. "Yeah, so she's everywhere. Aren't you a little tired of her?" She stepped forward, trapping him between the shelves and her body. "Don't you think you deserve a break? After all these years… after all that hard work, don't you think you deserve a little reward?" she dropped her voice to a breathy whisper and pressed the length of her against him, something she knew drove every man absolutely crazy. She looked up at him through her lashes (another thing she knew men loved), and was once again shocked at the look on his face.
No, perhaps not so much shocked as… discomfited. The look he was giving her wasn't one of lust, or panic, or even disgust. He was looking at her with… sympathy. And it was making her uncomfortable.
Danny placed his large hands on her shoulders and carefully pushed her away from his personal bubble, so that she was standing at arms' length. He studied her with eyes that suddenly appeared older and wiser. And then he spoke.
"You know, when Sam and I first started going out, I was over the moon. I was just a kid, barely seventeen, and I was completely infatuated. I was so sure that I wanted to be with her every second of every minute of every day for the rest of my life." He paused for a bit, but somehow Paulina knew that it wasn't because he expected her to answer. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. So she waited.
"A lot has happened since then." I grew up, so did she— and our relationship matured, too. We're not kids anymore, and I know now that I don't really need to hang around her every second of my life. For one thing, we've been together for more than twenty years, and sometimes we just drive each other completely up the wall. Sometimes we butt heads, and sometimes we fight— just like any real couple. So we do need a bit of a break from each other every once in a while. Also, she and I are two separate people, not a single entity. We need our space. Sam's the one who taught me that." He smiled at the mere thought of this, and Paulina's stomach churned unpleasantly at the sight. "And it actually is a little nice when I go off to do my own thing, and she does hers… it makes meeting up again afterwards all the more special, because we get to share whatever happened in that time with one another. There's always something new to bring in to the relationship; always something to learn from each other." He paused again, and this time he wore a devious smile. "And don't even get me started on the I-missed-you sex."
The mischievous grin on his face faded into something softer, but his eyes remained fixed on some faraway point over Paulina's shoulder. "Besides," he continued, "Sam wouldn't be Sam if she wasn't as independent and individualistic as she is. It's one of the things I love most about her. So yeah. I can, in a way, see what you're saying, and there's… maybe an ounce of truth there. I don't exactly want to be around her all the time.
"But you're also incredibly wrong. Because I could never, ever, get sick of her. You'd think I would by now, I guess, 'cause she's just been there all this time. I mean, she was my friend from the very first day I met her— and that was when we were little kids. Soon, we were best friends, and our friendship only got stronger over the years. And then the whole thing with my ghost powers happened, and she became part of my ghost fighting team. A couple of years after that, she became my girlfriend, a few years after that, she became my wife, and soon we started working together, running Fentonworks and all. Tucker doesn't really fight ghosts with us anymore either, so she's my partner in that, too. A few years after that, we started a family together and she became the mother of my kids, on top of everything else.
"But you see— with each new role she takes, she becomes a bigger part of my life, and a bigger part of me. We've really come a long way. Together." He shook his head, a fond, wistful smile on his face. "She's my whole world. I'm never going to turn my back on her. I'm never going to intentionally hurt her. And I'm never going to risk what I have with her. Not even for a second."
A moment of profound silence passed between the two adults, in which Danny leaned against the shelves behind him, that same fond, wistful smile still plastered on his face. His eyes were glazed as he looked at some point in the empty space behind her, clearly lost in happy memories of his wife. It was in that same moment of silence that Paulina opted to stand back and watch him as she absorbed all that he'd said.
It was also in that same moment that the closet door burst open almost violently, revealing a very, very unhappy Samantha Fenton.
"Sam!" Danny looked just about to pass out on the spot. "Sam, honey, I swear— it's not what it looks like! Paulina, she- she-"
Sam held out a hand to stop his tirade. "Save it, Danny. I get it. Now could we please have a word in private?"
Paulina was practically oozing with smug satisfaction at having single-handedly caused a marital tiff between the highly-revered couple of Casper High, Class of '07. Was that all it took? Please. Nothing a killer body and a sultry voice couldn't fix. "Oops, guess I'll let you two have that private chat."
Sam's head whipped around to appraise her. She chuckled darkly, amusedly. "Oh no, princess. You and I are going to have a chat." That was when Paulina realized Sam had addressed her.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"I don't know why you're cornering me." Paulina attempted to appear haughty once she and the Sam were alone in the closet. "Shouldn't you be rounding on your man right now?"
"Husband."
"What?"
Sam folded her arms across her chest, and even as Paulina eyed her impeccable black knee-length dress, she braced herself. Sam was not known to have an even temper. "He's not just my man, he's my husband. I'm informing you because you don't seem to have noticed. He's my husband. We're married. And I don't know what that means in your book, but for most people, that means it's permanent. So you better keep your freshly manicured claws to yourself." She snapped.
While Paulina did have her apprehensions, there was simply no way her pride was going to allow her to sit back and just take whatever the freaky goth geek from high school dished out at her. So she folded her own arms across her chest and scoffed. "Or what?"
"Or what? Or I'll kick your ass, that's what." She informed her. Paulina could feel derisive laughter bubbling in her throat, and it must have shown in her expression, because Sam quickly added: "Laugh all you want. You know I can do it." The smile she gave her was sickeningly sweet. "Or do you not watch the news?"
Sam immediately exited the premises after their little "chat" and Paulina watched, fuming once more, as she took a turn at a corner by the teacher's lounge that led to a more secluded hallway. She waited a few moments before following after her, knowing Sam would lead her to where Danny was, and Paulina wanted nothing more in that moment than to watch them scream at each other.
When she found the pair, they were standing facing each other, but it seemed that neither of them had spoken yet, which meant Paulina had probably arrived in time for their lovers' spat. She knew they were used to keeping their senses alert for danger lurking around the corner— at least, in battle. She hid at what she hoped was a safe distance away from them, behind a row of lockers, and knew that in order for her to remain unseen she would have to rely on their tendency to distract each other from the rest of the world. At that moment, the odds seemed to be in her favor. Sam was massaging her temples in frustration and Danny was watching her stew, looking worried and more than a little panicked. After a few more moments of tense silence, he finally broke.
"Sam," Danny pleaded softly, brushing her shoulder with his fingers in the lightest of touches— almost as if he didn't dare hold her any tighter while she was upset. Paulina wasn't quite sure what to make of that. "I know you're mad, but please—"
"Hold it right there, Danny." she interrupted him. "I am mad. But not at you."
He blinked at her a couple of times. "Not… not at me?"
"No!" Sam exploded, pushing away from him to make room for her arms to flail about as she elaborated. "I'm mad at her! Look, I can already guess what happened, alright? Paulina ran over to you with some sort of lame excuse, probably asking for help about a ghost or whatever, and she got you in there because you, my darling Clueless One, believed her. And then she probably cornered you and planted one on you from what you thought was out of nowhere, and you were so shocked that you freaked out and just stood there like an idiot." She folded her arms with confidence and raised an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to deny it. Paulina didn't know whether to be impressed that Sam was this perceptive, or concerned that she had become too predictable.
Danny grinned at her sheepishly for a second, silently confirming his wife's deductions. But then he laughed and shook his head. "Give me some credit. I also phased away from her kiss and defended our relationship. With a speech."
He puffed out his chest jokingly and Sam's lips twitched as though she were fighting a smile, but she did manage to raise an eyebrow at him. "A speech?"
"That's the part you want to discuss?"
"Speeches and eloquence are kind of new for you." She grinned at him sardonically as he playfully rolled his eyes. "But like I said, I knew she'd probably try to kiss you, so… no surprise there." (Danny snorted and Paulina frowned at that.) "I'm also not surprised that you phased away," Sam added with a small smile.
Danny returned the smile with a gentle one of his own and bent down to kiss her softly on the lips. "So you're not mad?"
"No. Why?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Should I be?"
"What? No! I thought-"
Sam dropped the act and chuckled good-naturedly. "Relax, Danny, I know, and I know you. I trust you."
He said nothing, but smiled and gazed down at her with such tenderness in his eyes that it made Paulina's chest tighten with an unfamiliar ache. "Thanks."
As one, they moved, reaching for the other's hand and meeting halfway to intertwine their fingers. No words were necessary as they exchanged a look. A message of understanding and— God help her— love seemed to pass between them, understated but startlingly clear even to an observer. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before they both headed back into the gym.
That was when Paulina finally, truly accepted that what Danny and Sam had was special… and not just because they had managed to stay fit and attractive in their mid-thirties from all the ghost fighting. It was the bond they shared, something stable but passionate; friendship and romance, timeless and true. Everyone who encountered them recognized it and marveled at it— and it was, perhaps, the real reason that she had always been secretly jealous of Samantha Manson in the first place. She supposed she always would be, even a little bit, from yearning for someone to share with what those two had with each other. But after that reunion, she kept a respectful distance, and never bothered the Fentons again.
A/N- And that wraps up our first chapter. I'm not quite sure if the pace is too boring for readers that aren't... well, me. So feedback will be much appreciated. If no one's interested in this, I may not see the point in uploading the next chapters here. Also, who do you guys think the next character/s will be? I've already got a line-up, but I'm open to suggestions and I'm interested in what you have to say!
Until next time!