Upon hearing the information. His instant gut reaction was to flee. So he did. Danny knew how to handle many things, knew how to cook for himself, knew how to fly a blimp, and could feasibly know how to split himself into duplicates. Yet, the exact words for this situation escaped him. Danny flew in the opposite direction Dash was looking.

It wasn't the nicest thing he could do. Once, he was outside the theatre. He lost his form in a flash. Two legs hit the sidewalk- then he crumpled like he was punched in the gut. Leaning against the fencing that separated the dream state that was the drive-in and the rest of the world. At that moment, Danny felt as small as Dash probably saw him.

Was he supposed to be relieved that Dash didn't know his secret identity? Or was this unearthing an entirely new problem?

He was sitting on the curb. Feeling the rough texture pierce through his hands as if that was the only thing keeping him anchored. Every time he felt he had something solved, it unraveled in his hands. Fingernails digging into his scalp. Why was he acting like this? Dash liked him! He liked-liked him, to be more precise. Shouldn't he be flattered...?

Though it was impossible, Dash couldn't be gay- Dash Baxter couldn't be gay because- well, Danny couldn't dispute it immediately since his head was still reeling. He could've just misspoken. That was always a possibility. Dash being gay could jeopardize everything his group was about- ridiculing those who weren't socially accepted. He was a brute, a bully, a sexist jerk teleported directly from a bad stage play from the sixties. The fact that everything else about Baxter was so cookie-cutter made this one piece of information unfathomable.

Ghosts were something he could solve. This wasn't. Danny wasn't sure which was worse, Tucker and Jazz being right- or Dash staring at him, right through him.

"Fenton! Jesus! I'm so so- sorry!" Dash finally sprinted out of the exit gate. He nearly demanded, "Are you okay?"

Danny took a moment to look up at him. Sluggishly he nodded. Dash offered his arm.

Then it was obvious.

All at once, It was obvious. Like pastel teddy bears stuffed into the foot of the closet. Something you didn't part with, but you thought you outgrew. Something you held onto and carried. Evidence that at one point, you were soft. It was obvious in the way you were squinting at magic-eye-poster too hard.

Taking his hand, Danny stood up. He sniffled; Fenton hadn't realized his nose was leaking, and his eyes stung. Danny hardly ever cried- but he appeared to be working towards it.

"This was kind of a disaster," Dash acknowledged. His sturdy posture was compromised with relief. Undoubtedly, Baxter was relieved to see Fenton was intact. Better or worse. He sighed, "I lost the dog in the commotion. We should've just gone back to your place; I'm such an-"

"Dash- no, cmon. This wasn't your fault."

The quarterback deflated, "Still- this was a Baxter-sized screw-up, right?"

"Your dad's car is-" Fenton gestured back to the drive-in, "beyond… like beyond-"

The jock shrugged somewhat defeatedly with humor, "He works in insurance."

"Wow-" Danny held back a snicker, "that explains a lot." He repeated under his breath, still lingering on to Dash's forearm, "That explains… everything."

The quarterback cocked his head before giving Danny noogie"... I am so glad you're okay, Fenton," he laughed, "Imagine that, though? The only two gay dudes in town found dead in the same place."

"Actually- Dash… I have to tell you something," Danny let go of Dash's arm, and put his hands in his pockets, after brushing his hair from his eyes-

The streetlight reflected off the pavement as if on cue, a gust pierced through their bodies. His glance shifted down. He stared at their shoes caked with gravel dust. The words couldn't muscle their way out his mouth. What was he even going to say? 'I know you're in an extremely vulnerable place, but I'm not.'

"I know," Baxter replied earnestly. He leaned against the fence, "I know- and I like you too."

Fenton blinked. If he wanted out of this grave, he needed to put down the shovel. Before Danny could explain himself- Dash removed his jacket, hanging it around Fenton's shoulders. He traced down Danny's arm, only to grasp at his hands. The quarterback's fingers loosely clasping onto the ghost boy's. Quietly, he insisted, "I'll walk you home. We might even make it back quicker since my dad's car is busted."

Flinching- Danny pulled back, "No. Dash- I can't."

Typically the walk home is when someone made a move on a date. At least from what he gathered from Tv- And Fenton didn't want to upset the already wafer-thin ice he was traipsing on. They didn't have to move- it was already so far out of his control that it felt like he couldn't stop now.

Halting, Dash's eyes bulged like he was struck. He didn't push any further, "... Okay. I- uh... I'll see you at school."

Danny removed the jacket-

Baxter dismissed, "It's gonna get cold out, and it's not like I don't have extras. Don't sweat it. Just get home safe."

Without saying goodbye, Danny turned from the direction they came from. Dash waved before kicking the ground and migrating toward the crosswalk. It was a hurried brisk pace, which eventually led to a sprint. Without intention, Danny began flying. Taking to the sky, anything to make this night end faster.

It was almost a quarter past nine. Jasmine already went into the basement and gave her parents the five-minute bedtime warning. Begrudgingly the adults came upstairs. They brushed their teeth. In the meantime, Jazz was going over her notes for another scholarship essay- perhaps her best yet. It may have been easier to submit the same one over and over again, but she got joy out of the challenge. She also really enjoyed talking to herself in a one-way dialogue. That's why she kept a good journal. A journal that Danny said could win a blueberry. When she corrected him, he didn't think that was right either. Trying to get a better lock for the thing was pointless, might as well try to find a new brother. While she found it annoying at first- it was the only way Danny could find out what she was up to when they couldn't talk to each other. He was obtuse in his need to be close to others. Jazz's brother never knew what he wanted. Which is why she hoped her little plan did him some good. Either that or it would be an extremely humorous story.

There was a rapping at her window.

Much earlier than she expected. Jasmine tucked the curtain back, tying it off. She saw the Phantom pressing his face on the glass angrily. Fighting back smile.

"You can come in." She snickered, "I figured ghosts didn't need permission."

Danny fell through the wall of his sister's bedroom. Laying starfish on her pink rug, he looked up at his sister with the same look of disdain from the window.

Jasmine pulled up her desk chair, "So… how was the movie?"

"No… no- no… Right now, you are not my sister."

"Danny… c'mon." She nudged her brother with her slipper, "You had fun, right?"

The younger Fenton kicked his legs defiantly, "That's not the point! You knew the whole time- AND DIDN'T TELL ME?"

"You would've been too in your own head the whole time," Jazz determined, rolling her head to one side. She stared down at her helpless little brother, who seemed to forget what fun was. She surmised, "I think it was good for Dash too. He felt like a different idiot than the one I was tutoring through algebra. Like an idiot in l-"

"Don't say that word."

She giggled, "What? Did he do the fake yawn thing? Did Dash Baxter put the moves on you?"

The two pale rings materialized from his chest- with a hum, Danny Fenton was himself again. He sat up, the letterman falling off his back, "It's not funny!"

"What uh- what do you got there?" Jazz reached down to pluck the jacket from her floor.

Danny instinctively yanked it away from her. His cheeks felt strange. The younger shouted, "You said- You said I wasn't crazy." He bit his cheek, trying to keep it together but Danny's breathing was ragged and exhausted, "Jazz, this is the kind of shit that makes me feel crazy."

"That isn't what I said exactly…" She mumbled.

"I- I am so unbelievably angry with you. You knew the whole time-"

"I didn't really know, it was an excellent educated guess," she remarked, "I mean, he had to have been overcompensating for- something, right?"

Daniel pursed his lips before pouting. He stomped out of Jazz's room, rustling her posters and decorations, as he slammed to door shut.

She raised her eyebrows, calling after her brother, "So, pick up again tomorrow? Same time? Good talk… good talk... " Jasmine pushed in her desk chair and began typing at her essay again, only a small fleck of guilt pulling at the back of her brain. However, she wouldn't have said that her experiment totally backfired.