Hello! This is my first ever fanfic, I am a huge fan of Danny Phantom, and I felt I just had to write something :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom

I've always been intrigued by him. Even before the accident in the lab. Especially before then. Average, normal Danny Fenton. Nothing particularly special or interesting, and almost painfully shy and awkward. Well, to the untrained eye. I'd been studying him intently ever since I met him, way back in second grade. I was the new kid, and of course, I was immediately targeted by all the other kids on the playground. The freak. The outcast. But it was him, the boy with the big blue eyes who held out a hand and helped me up off the ground where I clutched at my scraped knee and unsuccessfully tried to hold back tears.

"Hi. I'm Danny, what's your name?"

"S-Sam,"

"Are you hurt?"

"No, n-not really,"

"You can sit with me and Tucker, if you like. We'll be nice. We can be friends!" and then he gave me a huge toothy grin and I felt a hopefulness which I'd never experienced up until that point. And looking back, this was the exact moment I first saw the hero within him, many years before he got his ghost powers.

And true to his word, we became friends, the three of us. Best friends. The outcasts. I've sat with him and Tucker to this day. Tucker was reluctant at first, a new kid disrupting his bond with Danny, but he eventually accepted me, and now we are as close as ever. Minus the whole 'Vegetarian vs. Carnivore' thing.

But there has always been something about Danny. More than just a platonic, sibling-like bond. From that day I met him, his intense eyes have stuck with me. The bright, bold blue not washed out and watery like sky-blue, not mixing with greys or greens like ocean-blue. They're just…Danny-blue. A class of their own. I'm sure everyone, maybe even Danny himself, would say that my favourite colour is black, but that blue…it has to be the ultimate. My secret favourite. When he turns into Danny Phantom, obviously his eyes turn vivid green, striking and just as unforgettable as his regular eyes, but I have to say that I miss that blue every time.

His hair. Jet black, consistently messy. I remember the time in seventh grade; he cut his forehead open walking into a door, due to his perpetual clumsiness. I took him to the nurse. I got to hold his hair back. I felt it for the first time. I was amazed by the silkiness. The darkness. The way he looked with it off his face. I blushed when I realised what I was actually doing. This was the point where I realised, deep down, I had feelings for him. I shrugged them off though, thinking how stupid I was, how I couldn't possibly like Danny Fenton, my best friend of 5 years. But that hair…I still love it when he's Danny Phantom, the stark white, but I'm a girl of the darkness, and always have been.

Before he got his powers, his shy nature and clumsiness was a large part of him. He was clearly non-confrontational, with Dash especially, and when he was up against some of his very first ghost enemies, his voice would shake with nerves and fear. I just wanted to help him, to make the world see him as I have always seen him. As a strong, true hero. Eventually he realised this himself, along with the rest of the world. This made me immeasurably happy. He has always deserved to be recognised as who he really is. He's always been a hero to me.

Being with him in battle is exhilarating. I love to watch him fight. I sometimes get distracted by the way his body moves, lithe and quick, dodging every blow. I then get blown away myself by his incredible strength. Watching him fly is just amazing. He's so free when he flies, I believe that to be his favourite part of being half-ghost. My heart stops whenever he scoops me up and flies me off to a safer place. Not because I'm afraid of heights. Because he has his arms around me, protecting me, keeping me from falling. Reminding me of when he first offered his hand to help me off the ground, that very first day.

The blue eyes. The way he looked at me when we first met. The way he looks at me now. His hand lifting me off the ground that day. I take his hand in mine. The softness of his hair when I first touched it in seventh grade. He lifts his hand and caresses my own black hair. His shyness, just a distant memory at this point. His hand trails from my hair down to my waist, his arm encircling it. Always protecting, always gentle. Now or never.

I lean in for something 8 years overdue.

Inches apart, I finally return that huge, toothy grin that gave me such hope, and kiss him with everything I've got.