Here you go! So, I kind of gave you both, be happy! Review for me or so help me I'll only update once a week! I mean it! So much thanks you guys, you give me strength. This is one of my favorite chapters.


"Danny, we're concerned for you," His mother started.

"Yeah! A growing boy like you, acting this way is no way to be acting! Is there something wrong, son? Does it have to do with… ghosts?" asked his dad, unsurprisingly to him.

"Anyway…" said his mother, getting back on topic, "Your father and I asked you to be here because a) you've been acting strangely, causing b) you to be late: after your curfew last night. Tell us what's going on with you, Danny. Tell us what's wrong, and tell us why you have that terrible black eye."

Danny sighed deeply. He was on the witness stand in his living room: in a chair, parents across from him and Jazz to their left. He'd all but smashed the door in upon entering. He was put into a bad mood, a worse mood, then downhill from there during the day. Detention was better than being punched in the face, but not by much. True, just being home really helped—away from all of that stupid bullshit that he called "school". I couldn't just come in through the back or something, or even gone ghost and gone through the door. Oh, no, Danny's too special for that. No. Now, look where you are, you dumbass. Damn. What's Mom saying? Jeez, I don't even know anymore. Uh…

"Mom, Dad, Jazz," he began, looking at each of them in turn, "I am fine. I promise. Sam, Tucker and I just hit kind of a rough patch. I'm also really, really tired because I've been so stressed over my friends that I can't concentrate in school, and it's just a vicious cycle. Like, me, being tired and all that? I ran into an open locker—it's just killing me. It won't happen again, I promise," he finished, now completely out of breath.

"Well…. Alright. You need to tell us why you were late last night, though. You're not off the hook yet," Maddie said.

"And make sure to mention any Ghostly details!" his dad added enthusiastically. Jazz looked at Danny expectantly, though expectant of what, Danny had no idea. Danny also didn't know what to tell her.

You want all of the ghostly details? Sure, Dad. Alright: First off, let me tell you that I'm half ghost, and it's your fault. Cool? Okay. Then, let me explain that last night I wasn't hanging out with Sam or Tucker, but I went over to the house of a boy who beats me up at school. The thing is, I was disguised as someone he doesn't beat up, namely, Danny Phantom. Yeah, Danny Phantom: the one you want to obliterate. Anyways, I went over to talk to this boy, but instead staying there for multiple hours and, while I did talk to him, I ended up kissing him at the end of the night. And, it was pretty great.

"I was trying to get a hold of Tucker," Danny lied through his teeth. He stared down at the floor, then back up at his parents with a dried up, over-grazed look to him. He seemed burned out, or nearing it. Maddie looked at her husband and gave him a concerned look that he immediately recognized: doubt. He didn't believe him either, but what could they do? He knew that he had no choice. He also knew that if Danny needed help that he'd ask for it… eventually. They shared a smile and then looked back at their baby boy sitting, exhausted and world weary for a reason they didn't know.

Jack stood up and walked over to Danny. Kneeling down, he gave him a curious, strong, concerned look, and then ruffled his son's hair. Danny said nothing, but appreciated what he was trying to do. With a small smile, he cast him off, and both he and Danny's mom got up and left the room. That left, of course, Daniel and his sister Jasmine.

He watched his parents leave the room, then let out a long, relaxed sigh, sinking into the chair he was sitting in. He closed his eyes, but opened them when he remembered that Jazz was there.

"Oh. Uh… hey, Jazz. I didn't see you there…" Danny squeaked. Jazz sat up in her seat and gave Danny that look of expectancy he'd seen a few minutes before. She reminded him of a bird, but more talkative. He raised his eyebrows to her, but she said nothing. She smiled, sort of, with that famous Fenton smirk that made his mother fall in love with his father a long time ago. He sat up in his seat to match her pose, and waited for her talk. It didn't take long, and it never does with Jazz.

"What were you actually doing last night, Danny?" Jazz asked him.

"Just thinking about how lucky I am to have a big sister like you, Jazz."


"Yeah, I don't even know anymore… I'm just kind of done with it all," Danny said to Dash as they lie in a pile of leaves outside of Dash's neighborhood. It was another autumn day, another day of overcast skies with slight breezes. Dash sported some sort of turtleneck sweater in a really nice brown color, and Danny, of course, in his Phantom outfit. The leaves were so dry that it was nearly impossible to hear each other speak over the sound of the rustling. They were next to each other, Dash's hands behind his head; Danny's folded over his chest. It was nice, to be honest. Dash had pulled his I-Pod out from his jean's pocket, put it on Death Cab For Cutie's "Transatlanticism" album, and thrown it into the pile of leaves on low volume. Danny could still hear it, of course: it just so happened to be playing "transatlanticism" itself. It was a cute song—not something he'd expect Dash to listen to. Indie was one of his favorites, but to know that Dash's was too was something of a relief. The song's chorus of "I need you so much closer, so come on--" was the sound he heard, along with the trees whistling and Dash breathing. He'd nearly forgotten what they were talking about when Dash changed positions and answered him.

"But… they're your friends, man. You can't just… just decide that you're completely done with them; just like that… you've been through too much together... you're best friends."

Danny almost jumped when Dash reached his hand out and took Danny's. He also flushed a color red that he couldn't imagine his complexion capable of. Dash had looked up and to the right—he wasn't usually such a shy guy. He was the pinnacle of forwardness.

"Hey, Star. You're pretty hot. How about tomorrow night, after the game, you come visit me in the locker rooms? Feel free to wear your uniform, or nothing at all. Whichever you prefer," he remembered saying right to her face. And, it worked, somehow. Then, why is it that he was acting so shy? Well, Dash. He's a dude. That might be a contending factor. Ugh… faggot. Dash scowled to himself, but the baby pink of his blushing cheeks wouldn't go away. He shook his head, dismissing the thought, and turned to his favorite superhero.

"It's not like you," he said with a small smile. His eyes soft, he leaned over and kissed Danny on the forehead, then squeezed his hand for reassurance.

"I… I don't know about that one," Danny smiled. I wish that you knew what I was like, Dash. The boy's eyes were so bright on days like this: the oranges and reds gave them a quality and shine that no sapphire could compare with. It made it so hard not to listen to every word he said. "I guess… I just don't know if I can… If I can handle dealing with them again; dealing with her again."

"How long were you two together?" Dash asked.

"Well, that's kind of a hard question to answer…"

"Wait, she's a ghost too, right? I mean, like, once you're dead, you're a ghost forever, so…"

"What? No, Dash, you're so ridiculous," Danny said, laughing and shaking his head, "No… it's nothing like that. Basically, we've never been together; we just always really, really liked each other. Or, I thought we did…" Danny said, sighing. He put his head back into the pile of dead leaves and looked at the sky past the tree branches above him.

"Well, there's obviously something wrong with her," Dash said completely absent-mindedly. He was propped up on his elbow, looking at down at Danny and playing with his hair between his fingers. The perfectly silver strands made up of the softest hair Dash had ever felt on anyone of either gender. Definitely the softest, and also the nicest. It's gray, so does that mean that he's been dead for a long time? Or, did it just get like that? And, how the hell does he keep it so nice? Jeez, if my hair was half this nice, I could get any girl—

"Why's that?" Danny asked him after a moment or two. He had so much virtuousness to his voice.

"…she let you go," he said in a faint, faraway voice. Danny caught Dash's eye and beamed at him with an expression even kittens would be jealous of.

Danny couldn't help but notice that Dash often smiled when he kissed him—the biggest compliment that he'd ever gotten—from anyone. He parted for a breath of air, but just as quickly, Dash had pulled him into another exchange of affection. Dash's hand in his hair and on the back of his neck gave him shivers; there were shivers when he did it to Danny Fenton, too, but those shivers were terrible. They were painful. They weren't anything like this. He'd take a thousand of those shivers for just one of these any day.

"When someone scars you, Danny," Dash said, reaching his hand out and putting it on Danny's chest, "…it won't start to heal until you forgive them for it."

Danny was looking down at Dash's hand, but when he finished his sentence, he looked up to meet the other boy's eyes. How could you know that, Dash? Was his only thought as he gave Dash a somber look, then nodded.

"You're right," Danny said softly as he pulled Dash towards him for just one more amazing, spine-tingling, awe-inspiring kiss.


awww, right? Yeah. If you want to see any more of that, or anything, you'd better review and comment! Mwahahaha! Anywho, thanks for reading (: