Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.
Summary: Left to his own devices, 13-year-old Danny Fenton is forced to defend himself from the school's number one bully. But without strength or weapons of any kind, what is left to fight with? The birth of witty banter. pre-series; one-shot
Witty Banter: It's Not Just for Ghosts
(Pre-series)
The situation really stank. Or is it stunk?
Well, whatever the proper verb tense of the word, the current position he found himself in was uncomfortable, smelly, and very, very unfortunate.
The creak of a door made the teenager tense, and he prepared to scoot into the nearest stall before the entering person caught sight of him.
"Oh, uhh hi... Danny..."
The teenager relaxed as the nerd came into the bathroom. Braces, glasses, pimples—nothing dangerous in that.
"Hey, Nathan."
Nathan glanced around nervously as if the urgent need to empty his bladder was no longer of any importance.
"I, um..." Nathan began hesitantly.
"I'm sure the other bathroom is clear of any A-listers," Danny supplied.
Nathan nodded gratefully as he inched impatiently towards the door. Danny Fenton was known property of Dash Baxter. If the Fenton boy was hanging out in a bathroom, it was not a good idea to wait around too unless you wanted to become Dash's side dish.
Despite the mutual connection all nerds, nobodies, and outcasts held, it was every human punching bag for themselves.
Danny understood that and watched with no hint of resentment as Nathan made his escape.
"Um, good luck, Danny," Nathan mumbled right before he opened the door. "I hope that it works out for you today."
"Thanks," Danny said, a tiny grin finally pushing itself onto his lips.
Nathan nodded once more before fleeing the bathrooms. Danny winced as the door made a sort of groaning sound, but after a few seconds, the boy relaxed slightly when no A-lister, blonde or otherwise, came busting through the door.
Danny sighed, mentally berating himself for being so skittish. Dash won't find him today, not this time. He had left so many false trails. Dash had the intellect of a newborn pup; there was no way the bully would have the patience, brains, or attention span to keep at the chase for this long. Right?
Danny checked his watch. Ten minutes and then lunch period was over. Ten minutes.
The teenager gave a silent groan and braced himself against the bathroom counter. Why did every lunch period of his life become Survivor: Middle School Edition? Oh, yeah. Because he did such a good job of playing the defenseless loser.
Danny observed his reflection in the mirror. Old t-shirt and ratty jeans. Blue eyes. Messy black hair. Spindly limbs.
Your typical middle school geek.
Danny gripped the bathroom sink in frustration. Why did both Sam and Tucker have to be sick today?
Dash was secretly afraid of Sam (for who knows why). So the slight immunity Danny gained from being around her was just an added bonus to her ultra-recyclo vegetarian, Goth charm. And Tucker... Well, Tucker wasn't much help in the avoiding Dash thing, but at least he was a comforting presence since they both seemed to get beat up at the same time. Misery loved company after all.
But now with both of them out sick, Danny was left to defend himself.
A resounding bang interrupted Danny's thoughts and an unmistakable voice followed.
"That's right a clean throw and..."
"TOUCHDOWN!" a multitude of voices chorused.
"Chill out here ladies. The Dash will be back in a flash!"
Danny would have gagged at the stupid line if his life were not in imminent danger.
Diving into the nearest stall, Danny cursed his bad luck. After all his hard work to keep Dash off his scent, after hiding out in a disgusting bathroom for nearly a half-hour, Dash was going to find him because he needed a potty break?
Danny locked his stall and prayed to whatever merciful god there might be that Dash would not find him.
"Yo, you think that fen-turd might be in here? I haven't seen him all day."
Well, it was official. The universe hated him.
"Hey Fen-tina!" Dash called as he and his cronies began to smash each stall open.
Bang!
"You in here, loo-ser?"
Bang!
"We're going to find ya if you're in here, punk." another one called.
Bang!
The stall lock didn't stand a chance. One solid shove and the door flew open so hard that the flimsy, metal dead bolt flew off its perch and skittered to the floor.
The door made a loud, squealing protest, rebounded off the bathroom wall, and swung back into place.
Right into Dash's ugly mug.
It was perfectly timed. Dash had stuck his sneering face through the door, a victorious smirk already creeping onto his face, when BAM! the door swung back with a vengeance and caught the school's quarterback smack in the kisser.
Danny blinked once, twice. And watched as the door slowly crept back open to revealed a red-faced Dash doubled over in pain and his friends all staring with open mouths.
It was the most ridiculous thing Danny had ever seen (and that was saying a lot) that he did the stupidest thing in his life. He laughed. Right in the face of his enemy.
He apparently had a death wish.
"You did that on purpose, Fenton!" Dash screeched in the most unmanly fashion. His face was contorted on a weird mixture of pain and rage. One hand was clutched over his nose where the brunt of the blow had been, while the other hand waved accusingly in Danny's general direction (his vision must have been impaired).
And because Danny still had some sort of fixation with his own bloody, gory death, he kept right on laughing.
"What's so funny, Fenturd," Dash grounded out.
"Nothing," Danny said with not the least bit of conviction. "Red's a good color for you." The boy gestured vaguely at a small trickle of blood that was now leaking past the bigger boy's hand.
Dash apparently did not pick up on the jest or the fact that he was currently bleeding since he snorted, "Of course red's a good color on me. It's going to be my color once I make varsity football next year. This guy was born to wear a letterman jacket."
Danny still couldn't keep his mouth shut. "You sure they'll take you? How's a guy going to stand up to a charging defender on the field when he losing fights to stall doors in the bathroom?"
"Dash," one of his friends said, pantomiming a wipe to the nose. "You're—"
"Come here, Fenton! You are so dead!"
Dash charged into the stall, both arms extended to strangle the living daylights out of the scrawny boy.
For the first time in his life, Danny was thankful that he had the parents he had. Dodging mutant hot dogs, spontaneously combusting inventions, and more made leaping away from a screaming and flailing middle schooler a cakewalk.
Danny landed more or less gracefully outside of the stall where Dash's friends stood a stunned silence.
Behind him, Dash managed to stumble to a stop right before he face planted into the toilet.
But he had stumbled. And they had all seen it. And Danny couldn't help pointing it out.
"Fancy footwork there, Baxter. I'm sure the coaches will be impressed with the fact that you can at least avoid running into a toilet."
Somewhere in the back of Dash's small brain it must have clicked that this small nobody was actually making fun of him.
The boy twisted around with a roar of fury, but the spot Danny had previously occupied was now empty. The banging of the bathroom door alerted the jock of the nuisance's escape route.
"Wait, Dash!" his friend said, trying to step in his path. "Before you go after him, you might want to—"
Dash brushed him aside, barely hearing the words. The little punk was going to pay. Like any good hunter, Dash easily caught up to his prey.
Danny had just rounded the corner, making a mad dash for his next class when—
"Fenton!"
Danny tried to lose his way in the crowd, but with the appearance of Dash, everyone started avoiding him like the plague until a small circle had formed around Danny and Dash.
"When I'm done with you, Fen-turd, not even the best doctor in town will be able to put you back together again," Dash bellowed.
Danny slowly turned around, knowing his young life was going to end soon, but he couldn't resist one last jab.
"I dunno Dash. From where I'm standing it looks like you're the one who needs the doctor."
Dash's brow furrowed in confusion. He was just about to question the black-haired boy when he started noticing the whispering.
"Did Danny do that?"
"I never knew Fenton had it in him."
"Maybe Danny's not so weak as I thought."
Dash stared from Danny to the whispering crowd. What?
"Dude!" one of his friends exclaimed having finally caught up to him. "I think you need to wipe your face, like now."
Bringing a hesitant hand up, Dash wiped experimentally with the back of his jacket sleeve. It came back slightly damp and coated in a red sticky substance. Dash stared stupidly at it for a moment until he realized it was blood. His blood.
That stupid bathroom stall door.
Dash raised his eyes to glare at Danny.
That stupid little geek.
Now everyone thought...
"You're asking for it, Fenton. I'm going to beat you so hard—"
"What in heaven's name is going on here?"
Principal Hawkin walked calmly down the hall, the students parting before him like a color guard.
Dash recovered first and shoved his sleeve under Hawkin's nose. "Look what Danny did to me!"
The principal stared uncomprehendingly at the red stain, clearly unimpressed.
"So you spilled juice on your jacket," Danny spoke up. "It's hardly any reason to be beating me up."
"I agree with Mr. Fenton here," Principal Hawkin stated smoothly with a pointed glare in Dash's direction.
"It's not juice. It's blood," Dash protested. He looked go his friends for support, but they were all too busy staring up at Hawkin's intimidating, unamused scowl. "It's Fenton's fault," the boy finished weakly.
Hawkin switched his dark gaze from the flustered jock to the skinny geek.
"The lunch period is almost over," Hawkin announced. "I suggest you do something productive with that time."
There were a lost of "yes sirs" and head nods as students began shuffling around to look like they were doing something of some significance. Principal Hawkin gave one more scathing look to both Dash and Danny before continuing his stroll down the school corridor.
Dash marched right up to Danny as soon as the principal turned the corner. "You'll pay, Fenton. Don't think for one second you got a lucky break because—"
"Oh Dashiel!" a shrill voice called over the normal buzz of students' conversations.
"Dashiel?" one of Dash's friends repeated, wrinkling his nose as if the name was sweaty gym sock that someone had just shoved into his face.
Dash glanced up in horror as the school's nurse came running up to him.
The nurse was a terribly sweet lady with frizzy red hair, buckteeth, and flabby arms that jiggled every time she moved. In other words, she was any adolescence's worst nightmare.
"Oh, Dashiel. Are you having that bloody nose problem again?" the too nice lady asked with a blinding smile.
Dash brought his fingers up to his nose, and when he pulled them away, he found that his nose had conveniently started bleeding again.
"Oh, dearie. I thought you outgrew that problem this year," she said with a little tsk-tsk.
"No, it's not—I'm not—" Dash stuttered.
"Like I said, Dashiel, red's really your color. Maybe you should wear it more often. The ladies seem to like it," Danny whispered as he slipped pass the bully into his classroom.
Dash tried to lunge at Danny, but to his horror, the boy found that the nurse now had an iron grip around his wrist.
"Come now, Dashiel. We'll put some tissue up your nose and I'll give your mommy a call just to warn her the problem's started again."
With Dash being dragged down the hall away from him, Danny finally let out the shaky breath he had been holding the whole time and smiled a lopsided yet genuine smile.
Maybe, just maybe he didn't need his friends in order to deal with all his fights.
Maybe.
A/N: First time doing a one-shot and I'm not sure if I'll add any more. We'll see. Leave any suggestions you may have in reviews and I'll see what I can do although I make no promises.
~Bluesky21543
