So this is more of a prompt than a word/phrase/quote, so I'm putting it at the bottom of the page instead of on top.
That's pretty much all you need to know about this one (:
I don't own Danny Phantom!
Enjoy! (:
"You do realize that the only reason I'm going is because my mom threatened to ground me for two months if I refused, right?" Sam said, wringing her hands nervously beneath the cafeteria table. "Normally I wouldn't even care about that, but Dumpty Humpty's in town next month and they're gonna be watching me if I'm grounded..."
Danny appeared not to have heard her. He was rigid in his seat, jaw clenched so tight she was almost certain his molars were cracked. The muscles in his arms rippled, as if the ghostly energy contained within him was fighting savagely for freedom. His eyes were flashing dangerously, and as she watched, small streaks of green shot through his blue irises like lightning bolts. His sudden fury was palpable - and confusing.
"Whoa, what's got his panties in a twist?" Tucker asked as he slid his tray onto the table on Danny's right, glancing at Sam nervously as he sat.
"Sam's got a date," He spat through clenched teeth.
Tucker's head snapped toward her immediately. "What?" He demanded sharply, momentarily forgetting his food in his incredulity. "With who?"
"Some rich prick." Danny muttered darkly, his eyes still boring into Sam's. She lifted an eyebrow in annoyance.
"His name's Fabien, and my mother is forcing me to go. I've been dodging him for almost three months now. And if it's a date, it's a pity date. Believe me, I have no romantic interest in him whatsoever,"
"Have you met him before?" Tucker asked, shoveling in a mouthful of pizza around his words.
Sam grimaced at the grease dripping from her friend's chin. "Once, at that Christmas party my parents dragged me to at the end of last year. That was the first time he asked me out, and I said no. It's been pretty much non-stop since then,"
Tucker made a noise of understanding while Danny scoffed. "What, does he not ever hear the word 'no?'" He spat.
"Some people call it persistence," Sam shrugged, glancing down at her salad.
"Others call it rude," Danny said forcefully, slamming his fist down on the table. Sam froze and glared at him through her lashes. "I'm sorry, it's just that I was raised with the moral that if a girl tells me no, I should respect her decision, not try and force her to say yes!"
"Whatever you say, Paulina Fenton," Sam said coolly. His face immediately flushed a deep scarlet. "Look," She pressed before he could retort, "it's not like anything's gonna happen because of this. It's one date. One dinner. It's not even dinner and a movie or...whatever rich kids do for dates." Tucker snorted. "It's just dinner."
"Where?" Danny demanded, apparently already over Sam's jab.
"Oh no. I'm not telling you." His eyes were wide and pleading. "No, Danny!"
"What if he hurts you? What if you need my help and I don't know where you are?"
"If he tries to hurt me, I'll call you,"
"What if you can't get to your phone? Come on, Sam," He planted his hands on the table and leaned across, bringing his still-flashing eyes into sharp relief beneath the fluorescent lights above. "This is for your own safety. My peace of mind. Please tell me where this creep is taking you for dinner tonight?"
"Honestly, I don't even know where we're going. He said it was gonna be a surprise."
He reared back as if she had bitten him. "A surprise?" He repeated, his horror evident in his face. "Oh, God, he's gonna take you to some abandoned warehouse or something and torture you..."
"I seriously doubt he has access to an abandoned warehouse."
"How do you know? He's rich! The rich have access to anything they want!"
"They do not! Not everything,"
"Bowling alley. Movie theater. State of the art sound system." He ticked each one off on his fingers. "Pre-released movies, video games, music, technology in general..."
"...okay, they have access to all material things, but he couldn't just buy me. Believe me, he tried."
Danny glowered at her for a moment, before his shoulders slumped and he sighed loudly. "Look, I didn't want to play this card, but you've forced my hand. As your local super hero, it's my job to know -"
"Shut up." Sam interrupted, spearing a few leaves onto her fork and jamming them into her mouth. "It's your job to stop the Box Ghost from building a cardboard fort around the city. That's all you do."
"I just wanna -"
"Are you kidding me? I know you, Danny. You'll follow me."
"I will not!"
"Have you forgotten the whole Elliot incident?"
"I only followed you guys because I thought he was a secret agent!"
"Did you?" Tucker suddenly chimed in. He was watching the exchange with a distinct air of amusement; his upper arm was flat along the table, bent up at his elbow, propping his head up with his hand. "Did you really?"
"Tucker, I swear to God -" Tucker yelped, having just been punched - hard - in the arm.
"Mr. Fenton!" Lancer's voice suddenly boomed overhead. Sam almost snorted into her salad when both boys flinched. "That's quite enough. This is a cafeteria, not a boxing gym. Try to keep the violence to a minimum."
The English teacher sauntered away, beady eyes sweeping through the cafeteria as he went. Danny remained hunched over his lunch, glaring down at the unidentifiable remains of whatever his mother managed to scavenge from their kitchen. "I'm just trying to protect you." He growled.
"While I appreciate it, I don't think your protection will be needed tonight." Sam tried to sound soothing, but his irritation with the idea of her dating was really starting to annoy her. "I can take care of myself with this kid. Trust me."
"But -"
"It's only gonna be a couple of hours, and I promise I'll call you the minute he drops me off at home," She said as she gathered her belongings and stood, salad bowl in hand.
"He's picking you up?" Danny nearly shrieked.
"You should just go now," Tucker whispered loudly. Danny was gaping at her as she slowly backed away from the table, chewing her lip almost nervously. "You're gonna do something stupid, aren't you?" He asked of his friend when Sam was out of earshot.
"Yep."
"Should I ask?"
"Depends. D'you wanna be involved?"
"Not really."
"Then no, you absolutely should not ask."
"- and I was like, listen, man, I don't know what makes you think you're a Louis Vuitton expert -"
"Maybe it's the fact that he works at the Louis Vuitton store?" Sam muttered under her breath.
"- but that is not the black angular suit jacket Jack St James wore on the East End runway during Fashion Week in Paris!" Fabien continued, deaf to her sarcasm. "Oh, I wish you could've seen his face, Samantha,"
"I told you in the car, it's Sam. And I can only imagine what his face looked like," She nearly grumbled.
"Reservation for Fabien Benollet," Fabien tossed the statement to the maitre d', his lofty gaze gliding over the other patrons already seated as she scanned the reservation list. Sam rolled her eyes.
"Right this way, Mr. Benollet," The maitre d' lead them into the belly of the restaurant to a small, empty table toward the back. Fabien yanked a chair back and nearly threw himself into it, glaring up at the maitre d' when she bumped into his splayed legs.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked.
"Oh, I'm fine, thank you," The maitre d' smiled warmly and gestured to the empty seat across from Fabien. "Can I interest you in a bottle of wine this evening?"
"No thank you, I'm underage," Sam said quickly before Fabien could open his mouth.
"My mistake. Your waiter will be with you momentarily," The maitre d' bowed and backed away from the table.
"I wish you would've let me order a bottle of wine," Fabien pouted as Sam browsed the menu. "They wouldn't have asked for your ID,"
"It's standard practice for a waiter to ask for a form of ID when serving alcohol," Sam murmured without looking up.
"Yes, but you're with me," Sam peered up at him over the top of her menu. "They know me here. My father's a regular customer. The last time I brought a girl here I ordered their oldest bottle of scotch and they didn't even bat an eye."
Sam arched a single, thin eyebrow. "I'm not much of a drinker," She said slowly, trying to decide if she wanted to comment on his mention of a previous date.
"Well, I am." He planted his elbows on the table and hunched forward, glancing over his shoulder at a passing waiter balancing a tray on his shoulder. "What do you think they're having? It smells delicious," He leaned backwards before Sam could answer. "Hey, what is that?"
Sam let the menu fall forward with a thunk and massaged her temples. This is gonna be a long night, she thought miserably.
"Good evening," A smooth voice murmured above her head. She glanced up into a pair of icy blue eyes shining bright against smooth, tan skin. Her heart almost stopped in her chest before she noticed the shocking blonde hair falling into the waiter's eyes; for half a second she believed Danny was standing over her. "Can I interest you in any appetizers tonight?"
"Yeah, lemme get the shrimp cocktail and a bot-"
"I wasn't talking to you," The waiter said sharply, glancing sideways at Fabien. Sam slapped a hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle her snort as Fabien began to splutter. "Ma'am, what can I get for you this evening?"
He was grinning at her as if he was sharing a special secret with her, like he knew her distaste for the man seated across the table for her was almost as strong as her distaste for meat. "Um, nothing. I'm okay. Thanks." She couldn't help the shy smile that twisted her mouth up.
She didn't realize he was bent toward her until he straightened and turned his head slightly toward Fabien. "And you?" He asked, all traces of warmth gone from his features.
"I just said -"
"Great, I'll get right on that." The waiter turned his head away, winked at Sam, and started toward the kitchen.
"I don't believe this!" Fabien was fuming, glaring after the waiter and clenching his fists on the table. "My father spent over twenty thousand dollars here last year alone, you would think that this establishment would know better than to hire street rats to service me!"
"He seemed professional enough to me," Sam shrugged, slumping down in her seat slightly. Fabien shot her a disparaging look before fixating his gaze on the kitchen door over Sam's shoulder.
"I can't wait until he comes back, I'm going to report him to the manager and demand his immediate termination!" He drummed his fingers against the table and nodded, eyes wide and maniacal.
"He didn't even really do anything," Sam muttered, fingering the edge of the menu in annoyance. She almost wanted to text Danny and beg him to come get her, but her curiosity was piqued with her waiter. She desperately wanted to see what he would do next.
Several tense moments later, Fabien straightened in his seat. Sam glanced over her shoulder to see their waiter headed directly toward their table, a bottle of red wine in one hand and a shrimp cocktail in another. "Here we are," He deliberately set the shrimp cocktail closer to Sam's side of the table, positioning his body so that he was turned toward her slightly. "And I wasn't sure what type of wine, since you didn't specify, so I just grabbed a bottle at random."
"I would have specified had you not interrupted me!" Fabien was almost shouting. The waiter turned his head slightly, a bored expression on his face. "Tell me your name. I am going to report you to your manager for belligerent behavior."
"It's butts," The waiter said, and Sam thought she could detect a slight taunting edge to his voice.
"I beg your pardon?" Fabien's hand was over his heart and his face was twisted in offense.
"Butts, man, my name is Butts!" The waiter looked infuriated. "B-U-T-T-S! I didn't choose the name, but I wear it with pride! You mock me!"
"N-no, I -" Fabien's face was bright red, and Sam thought she could see beads of sweat gathering in his hairline. The patrons at surrounding tables were looking around at the source of commotion, but the waiter did not appear to notice. "I-is...is it your...um...ah..."
"Butts is my last name." The waiter said in a calmer voice, though it was obvious he was still seething. "My first is Seymour."
"Seymour...Butts," Fabien said it slowly, watching Seymour's face nervously. Sam was almost positive at least one blood vessel in her brain would burst with the effort it was taking her to not laugh. "Well, Seymour, I'm...ah...going to need to speak to a manager,"
"I don't think so," Seymour hissed, blue eyes narrowed. "How about I just pour you some wine and you get back to your very beautiful date, hm?" Through her suppressed laughter, Sam felt her face heat up at Seymour's compliment. "Not that you deserve to be here with someone so gorgeous. Maybe a few glasses of wine will open her eyes to what an insufferable prick you are, what do you think?"
"I...y-you...how dare..." Fabien seemed to be at a complete loss for words as Seymour turned and plucked the empty wine glass in front of Sam off of the table. He poured a generous amount and when he went to place it back in front of her, he leaned forward and winked at her again. She smiled shyly at him, and when he leaned away she was almost positive she saw the barest flash of green in his pupils.
"And of course, some wine for the gentleman," Seymour turned toward Fabien fully, lifted the wine bottle high over the table, and poured it directly into Fabien's lap. "Oops." He said in a low voice as Fabien shouted and leapt backwards from the table. "My mistake."
Sam was outright laughing now, no longer able to contain herself at the entertainment as Fabien tried to shake the wine out of his suit. "I will have you fired for this and I will personally ensure that you are never hired by any other food establishment in this country, Seymour Butts!"
At this, the other patrons in the restaurant began to laugh as well, though none as hard as Sam. Even Seymour snorted. "You get right on that," He said, leaning against the table lazily. "By the way, you're gonna want to pat that out. I hear red wine stains." Seymour turned and offered his hand to Sam. "Ma'am, can I walk you out?"
Sam took Seymour's hand and allowed him to gently pull her to her feet. Without a backwards glance at the still-shouting Fabien, the couple skirted through the tables and traipsed directly out of the front door of the building. Seymour led her around to the side of the building, chuckling at the fact that Sam seemed unable to contain her laughter.
"Listen," He said when they were safely tucked between the restaurant and a neighboring boutique. "I have a confession to make."
"Is it that you're the worst actor ever?" Sam asked, leaning back against the brick wall of the boutique.
"What?" He said it forcefully, as if he was desperately clinging to the charade.
"C'mon, Danny," Sam laughed, brushing her hair out of her eyes in amusement.
His shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily. "What gave me away?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Seymour Butts? What are you, seven?" He snorted. "Your eyes flickered," She was still grinning. "Who are you overshadowing, anyways?"
"Some skater punk I ran into earlier when the Box Ghost broke in to the Uline factory downtown," He shrugged and swept a long lock of blonde hair off of his forehead. "Are you mad?"
"No," She reached forward and tugged on the red tie around his neck lightly. "You actually saved me from a real jerk. I'm definitely not mad." He grinned, took a step forward, and extended his arm, planting a hand over her shoulder against the brick wall she was leaning against. "In fact, I really should be thanking you,"
"Oh, yeah?" He asked, and his voice was low and gravelly. It made her heart lurch pleasantly in her chest. "And how would you do that?"
"Well, I'd be happy to show you...if you were you," both hands were on his tie, pulling him so close that their foreheads touched. She could see his eyelids fluttering, as if they were fighting to close.
"What?" His voice was little more than a husky whisper.
"Change back," She whispered.
He jerked away from her and glared down at his body. "Crap," He growled. "Be right back,"
She laughed as he darted out of the alley, turning her face up toward the sky and trying to be patient. She was so close, so close...
He came jogging back around the corner less than a minute later and this time his blue eyes and tan skin were set against his raven hair. He looked a little windswept, but his gaze was fixated on her lips. Her heart lurched again, this time more powerfully, when he quickly assumed the position he had just vacated.
Without another moment's hesitation Danny captured her lips with his own, a quiet groan that bordered on a growl passing through his throat and into her mouth. She felt his hand, the hand that wasn't against the wall beside her head, find her hip, while her hands came up on their own accord and her fingers tangled in his hair to pull him closer. He hastily deepened the kiss, fingers tightening slightly on her hip in a possessive gesture that sent small tremors through her mind. Her heartbeat was too loud in her ears and it felt as though there were dozens of fireworks exploding in her stomach.
"You have got to be kidding me!" An infuriated voice screeched from the mouth of the alley. Danny and Sam jerked away from each other immediately, Sam ducking beneath Danny's extended arm slightly to find a red-faced, wine-stained Fabien glaring at her. "You ran off with the world's worst waiter, and now you're sucking face with this guy? Who the hell is that, anyways?"
She snorted and glanced up at Danny, just to find him gazing at Fabien with a look of mock concern. "Whoa, man, are you okay? You look like you just took a wine bath."
Fabien screamed and stormed away as Sam burst into laughter. She heard Danny laughing as well; his chest rumbled with his chortles as her head fell forward and landed in the place between his left peck and shoulder. "Was that too much?"
"No," She sighed and leaned away, smiling up at him through half-lidded eyes. "It was perfect."
Your character goes out for dinner on a date and becomes attracted to the waiter or waitress...
