Enigma

By Berry's Ambitions

A/N: Okay, how could people have not thought of this pairing sooner? Because I loved their dynamic in the movie and what they brought out in each other. It demanded fanfic, so I gave in and wrote some. Elena, I hope you like this! You've set the bar pretty high when it comes to writing about these two! XD

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Casper.


It's the most clichéd thing in the world, but it was the eyes that drew him in. Almost purple, but just that little bit lighter, and so vibrant against the semi-transparent ectoplasm that made up his form. Large and expressive, which might have given Stretch an almost innocent appearence had that not been the furthest thing from the truth.

His eyes are full of life that, for all intents and purposes, should not be there. Eyes that can be sharp and calculating one moment and blazing with uncontrollable anger the next. Just like the owner of which they belong to.

If Stretch has a polar opposite, then James is it. He likes to keep his priorities straight, to do things the right way and in the proper order. Stretch will only do things his way and no one can tell him any different. (James knows this from painful experience.) Every aspect of Stretch's character is an enigma - from the growling, hate-enfused music he blasts throughout Whipstaff; to coming home at ungodly hours, wasted on too much scaring or too much booze or both; to arriving at therapy sessions late because 'Doc, be grateful me and the boys bothered showing up at all.'

He's juvenile, James is well-aware. When Stretch does something remotely kind for someone, more often than not it is born out of self-interest. James is on the opposite end of the spectrum; he offers people help and support because he enjoys it. Because it's his job to care, both as a parent and as a therapist. Stretch does what he wants, whenever he wants. If he has to step on a few toes or break some hearts to achieve his goals, then so be it! It'll probably make the experience worthwhile.

Yet Stretch will barge into his office during the wee hours of the morning, demanding to know why he hadn't spotted James in his room the night before because "If you'd just go sleep like them normal fleshies, I wouldn't have wasted my whole night waitin' under the bed to scare ya!" James never sees it coming - there's that cold gust of wind and suddenly Stretch's arm is drapped around his shoulder, encouraging him to just loosen up and have fun rather than wasting his whole miserable life away cooped up in a room full of dusty old books. His words, not James'.

Stretch doesn't care enough to be quiet. He always speaks with purpose, hands flailing about as he flies around the room, never able to stay in one place for too long because it tries his patience. Kat finds this frustrating and complains of it often, comparing Stretch's attention span to that of a crack baby.

To this day, James asks himself how his daughter and level-headed, respectful Casper came to be such close friends. But he digresses.

How Stretch's presence became such a major one in his life remains a mystery. An ironic one, really, when James thinks back to why he and Kat moved to Friendship in the first place. One minute, Stretch and his brothers are demanding they vacate their home and did everything in their power to make James' quest to learn about the afterlife near-impossible. The next, Stretch is delivering Pizza Hut to James' desk, trying to persuade him to join the Ghostly Trio for a night out. The mockery is still there, of course, but the malicious intent behind it is gone. Now it is light, playful, and feels more like an inside joke than anything else.

Stretch has always loved to touch. He'll let his fingers creep up James' spine, casually brushing them along the nape of his neck. Said fingers often wound intertwined in his hair - ruffling it, massaging his scalp - or lightly tweaking the end of his nose. At first it leaves James unsettled because, despite everything, Stretch is still his patient. But James has always prided himself on being adaptable, and he knows that Stretch is simply being Stretch.

If anything, James has come to rather like the attention. It relaxes him, reminding him that he isn't alone. He knows he has Kat, and Casper to an extent, but this is... different. With Stretch, he can simply be, because Stretch expects nothing else.

He's treading on dangerous waters and he knows it. Stretch is the very definition of instability, with his viscous personality and rapidly-shifting moods, but James finds it difficult to be without him. After the sudden loss of Amelia, finding love again had been the last thing on James' mind - especially with somebody whose life had ended long before he was even born. He tells himself over and over it's not fair to anyone - not to himself, not to Kat, not even to Stretch. James is all-too-familiar with the pain of losing someone; he sincerely hopes that Stretch will realize on his own that it is inevitable.

It's not fair, how endearing he finds those violet eyes and high-pitched, cackling laugh. The century-old wit and cocky attitude. The thick, drawling Jersey accent and toothy grins. The maniacal energy that seems to accompany him wherever he goes, whether it be out on the streets of Maine or the privacy of the bedroom. He's a constant surprise, waiting to turn an ordinary day into a rollercoaster whether James is ready for it or not. He doubts he'll ever be, really.

The one thing that has never changed about Stretch - his one consistancy - is the fact he loves him. Really loves him.

James comes to this conclusion when he awakens from an all-nighter with a blanket draped over him; or when he goes to make coffee in the morning only to find it mysteriously sitting out on the table, freshly-brewed. When James is doing paperwork and Stretch will just sit on the desk and watch him like it's the most interesting thing in the world. When he tries to explain his work to Stretch and he'll listen, not because he finds it particularly interesting (which he most certainly does not) but because he knows James cares about it.

It's apparent when he can't find his glasses, only to discover Stretch parading around the neighbourhood with them perched atop his nose. And when the Trio try to bake a cake for his birthday, only to get the salt mixed up with the sugar. (Their leader's expression had been so earnest that James had forced himself to eat the entire thing anyway, even if that meant terrible stomach cramps later that night.)

James recognizes it by the pattern of the bruises that form on his collarbone, by the playful nibble he receives on his lower lip during their morning kiss - which almost always leads to more than a mere kiss, but James would be lying if he said it bothered him.

Take today, for example. Stretch has his wrists pinned to bed, smirking as their chest press together.

"Stinkie and Fatso are expectin' us in the library," he informs him, tongue tracing the shell of his ear.

James knows that Stretch loves surprises as much he does, so he rolls the phantom onto his back. "I know," he murmurs, planting a kiss on his shouder. Stretch rewards him with a purr. "They can wait."

"They can wait?" the other male echoes, letting out a disbelieving laugh. "Who are ya and what've ya done with the Doc?

Cracking a smile, James latches his mouth onto the side of Stretch's neck, suckling gently before meeting those violet eyes once again. "Didn't think you'd be so hard to convince."

A slow but devious smirk spreads across Stretch's face, purposely grinding their lower halfs together. "You don't have to convince me of nothin'," he whispers back, wrapping his arms around the human's neck.

Needless to say, there's no therapy appointment that morning, but no one complains. For the first time in a long time, James is at peace. And for the first time in his entire life, he welcomes a little bit of disorder. A little bit of chaos.

But most importantly, he welcomes Stretch McFadden, the best thing he never knew he needed.

~The End~