A/N: This has been rotting on my computer since school ended two months ago. I actually wrote this for class~ sometimes I let my fandoms take over my life too much? Nope, there is no such thing as "too much obsession"!
Deepest thanks to Tangi and Trance for looking this over for me and editing. I seriously appreciate it. And sort-of thanks for passing the Pitch Pearl bug to me. xD
Obviously I don't own DP, or ...what the hell do they call it again..."Amethyst Ocean" (as a fandom, our naming skills need work) would never have gone canon. And Phantom Planet wouldn't have happened, or at least been the crap it was.
It was mid-July, and Amity Park was sweltering. Temperatures hadn't hit summer highs until a week ago, but when they had, they hit with a vengeance. Danny—currently sprawled shirtless underneath the shade of a large oak—missed the cool breezes that had disappeared some time between Saturday and Sunday. Lance Thunder—for once getting to report on the weather and sounding distinctly happy about it—had said something about a front passing through.
Almost as if responding to his wistful thoughts of cold—and God knows, it was a definite possibility—an icy sensation rose up through the ground and passed through his chest, provoking an uncontrollable shiver. Phantom materialized in front of him, grinning down at the human.
Danny didn't return the smile, however.
"What's your problem?" the ghost asked, one eyebrow quirking.
"Dude, your jumpsuit," Danny replied as he adjusted his hands underneath his head. "You're making me hot just looking at it..."
Phantom dropped to the ground and sat cross-legged beside his human. "And what am I supposed to do about that?" he asked, his voice light. "I can't control the weather."
"Take the top part off or something," Danny muttered drowsily. He thought longingly of the water park, but after a spate of ghost attacks it had been temporarily shut down for what the marketing department called public safety. More like "for profit safety".
Danny's thoughts were suddenly interrupted and he was jerked back into total wakefulness when an ice-cold glove settled on his forehead. It felt like arctic heaven.
"Just checking for heatstroke," Phantom said serenely as Danny sighed with pleasure and leaned into the ghost's touch. "You're too stubborn to watch out for something like that."
"You're worried about me getting heatstroke?" Danny asked incredulously. "Dude, I'm not the one dressed head-to-toe in spandex. Can't believe you're not dying."
"It's a bit late for that." Phantom chuckled lightly. Danny winced at his slightly thoughtless choice of words, but the ghost didn't seem offended. "But honestly, if this is getting to you…" He moved his hand and started running it over the slight muscles of Danny's chest. The human shivered under the deliciously icy, butterfly-light touch.
"I'm not going to mess with a winning formula."
He grew bored of the muscles and started idly tracing circles in the sweat on Danny's chest, his natural chill seeping into the moisture, and began moving his fingers lower. He'd never admit it to the human, but Danny's body's natural living processes—sweating, heartbeat, breathing—fascinated him to no end.
Danny sat up suddenly, throwing Phantom's hand off. By chance—more likely design—it went south before it left his personal space, and he blushed. "Don't try to distract me," he scolded the ghost.
"I thought I was succeeding," the white-haired boy said, smirking. Danny's blush deepened.
"Just take it off, Phantom."
"Make me."