Disclaimer: If you don't already know how this works, this must be the first fanfic you've ever read. In that case, know that I don't own anything recognisable and am making no money from this story; and also that I really don't see how a paragraph-long acknowledgement of these facts could possibly save me from legal persecution if, say, Butch Hartman decides to come after me. Hopefully, therefore, I'm beneath his notice. Yay for insignificance!
Summary: Danny's in de Nile...er, denial. Early in the episode "Fanning the Flames", as the trio leave Klemper behind, Danny muses on his new awkwardness around Sam. Nebulous D/S. Rated T for a few mild swear-words and an extremely vague reference to Danny's private parts.
That Famous Egyptian River
by Aeiou the Consonantless Wonder
Suddenly I realized what we were doing. Sure, my hands were freezing and she'd been nice enough (in a vaguely impatient, quit-your-whining sort of way that was typical of Sam—she can never admit when she's being nice; she has to cover it with sarcasm) to warm them for me...but the end result was: Sam and I were holding hands.
Luckily (now there's a word I never thought I'd apply in this context), Tucker started to sing just then—so I babbled some excuse about needing my hands back so I could block my ears, and she let go.
But I was still blushing, and couldn't look at her.
Damn it, this sort of thing has been happening more and more often, this past week. I swear, a month ago—even a week ago—I was fine. I could look Sam in the eye no matter what. I didn't freaking blush whenever we happened to touch! Goddammit anyway.
Ever since we ki—ever since the fake-out make-out that was totally just to get that ghost-hunter who turned out to be Valerie off our backs... I just...I guess, now...I'm just...kinda aware that Sam's a girl, now, y'know?
I mean, don't be stupid, I already knew Sam was a girl. I've known her since the first grade, and anyway she habitually wears a skirt, okay? That's a clue, right there.
But what I mean is, I always knew Sam was a girl in the same way I know Jazz is a girl, or Tucker's a boy. As a fact, something I knew intellectually, but that had no real impact on me.
Now, though...now I know she's a girl. I'm aware of it. I feel it in my gut.
Or possibly someplace a little further south.
Oh my God, I did not just think that. Mental note: When we get back to the lab, scrub brain with a wire brush. (I'm sure I could manage it with a little carefully-applied intangibility.)
You don't think about her like that, okay? Get this through your thick skull, Fenton: Sam is your friend. Your best friend except for maybe Tucker. Okay, your best girl friend.
Did that just sound like "girlfriend"...?
Okay, addendum to mental note: Make it a power sander. That industrial-grade one Dad got last year.
And Sam is your best female friend and you DON'T THINK OF HER THAT WAY!
Author's Note: That's all she wrote. Literally. G'bye now.