Danny first notices his teeth in the bathroom mirror in the morning. He had just finished brushing his teeth, spat out the goo, and instead of just putting away his brush like normal, he offhandedly bares his teeth at himself for kicks, and nearly snipes his elbow on the counter in shock at what he sees.
He calmly puts his toothbrush back in the drawer, runs his fingers through his hair, deeming stealing his sister's brush unnecessary today, and then makes his way down the hall to her room. Jazz startles at his appearance when she sees him after straightening up from pulling on a sock. "What's up?" she asks, a concerned tone already woven into her voice.
"Look at my teeth."
Jazz squints at him for a while until she looks like she's about to close her eyes all the way and fall asleep standing up. "Literally what the hell, Danny?"
"I know it's too early for this, but I'm serious, do you notice anything different?" He pulls his lips back again.
"Danny, you are the weirdest fucking kid I know," she says, letting out a long-suffering sigh and walking closer to him anyways. After a couple moments of skeptical scrutiny, the I-think-this-is-stupid expression abruptly melts off her face. "Whoa." She leans down even farther, just to make sure. "Dude, you're growing fangs?"
"Okay." Danny closes his mouth, and Jazz backs off. "So I'm not imagining them. Great. This is fine."
"...Is this a ghost thing?"
"I really hope it's a ghost thing and not a mutant thing, but either way, this is bad. Very bad." He takes a breath, turning and leaving Jazz's room, thumbing his teeth to gauge the sharpness. Speaking quieter so their words don't carry down the stairs, he says, "Jazz, this means ghost things are bleeding into my human life. What if I start going grey? What if they never stop growing and I end up looking like a saber-toothed tiger? What if I have to file them down by chewing blocks of wood like a mouse-?"
Jazz stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, having followed him out towards the stairs. She guided him to face her, and going by her look, he probably looked more frazzled than her hair. "Danny, calm down. Teeth don't grow fast, and Mom and Dad have skimped on yearly dentist checkups since, like, before you came out. You don't need to worry about anything, okay? If problems come up, I'll be here to help you solve them. You'll be fine."
Danny doesn't reply, running his thumb over his teeth again.
Jazz sighs. "Danny. Breathe."
He does, but his shoulders don't relax at all. The house is quiet.
"Jazz, what if it's me starting to turn into him?"
She doesn't have an answer for that one.
Danny hasn't been smiling for the last couple of days. Sam wants to assume it's just another bad week with the Box Ghost coming back like a boomerang or the Ghost Zone continually spitting out an influx of ghosts for no reason, but that can't be the case. Danny's not stupid enough to try and handle stuff like that on his own; he always texts them to help when he knows he needs it.
So she's worried about him, and she can tell Tucker is too. He's extremely bad at hiding what he's really feeling, and it's painfully obvious he's trying his hardest, cracking joke after joke after pun, to make him laugh. He seems pretty desperate, and there's no way Danny can't tell, but Sam's cheering him on in her head. With the sort of problems that ghost-fighting creates, she kind of hopes that it's just emotions that can be remedied with enough attention and friendship.
Tucker's antics eventually make Danny crack. Unfortunately, those antics include Tucker bodily falling to the grimy floor of the Nasty Burger and wailing about sullying his yellow turtleneck and how even the floors of the Nasty Burger are nasty in the same breath. Sam's attention snaps to Danny's face like lightning, taking in the scrunched eyes and raised eyebrows and hand raising to cover his mouth- whoa!
"Oh my gosh, Danny, are those what I think they are? That's so metal!"
Tucker, still on the floor, whines at being ignored, and Danny clamps both of his hands over his mouth with his eyes blown wide. "Oh my god, Sam, shut up!"
"What?" Tucker struggles to get back into their booth. "What's going on?"
"Danny's got fangs!" she whisper-yells at Tucker, who looks over at him.
Tucker stills and touches her arm gently. "Hold on," he says. "Dude, what's wrong? Are you okay?"
Sam looks over to see Danny's face and has one of the biggest oops moments she's had since the portal incident.
His eyes are bleeding into electric green, and his pupils are pinpricks. He shakes himself out, removing one of his hands from his mouth to shield his eyes from the rest of the restaurant as he hunches over. "I-" his voice comes out muffled, "I know you think it's cool, but it just- Vlad- Vlad has fangs, and they just remind me of him."
It takes Sam a moment to realize who he's talking about. It seems so long ago now, to her, that she forgets how much of an impact it had- and still has- on Danny. Her and Tucker weren't even there for a lot of it, and she's long since dismissed that villain as a possibility for future Danny. But the weeks after that battle were enough to make her aware of Danny's residual fears, if not to fully understand them.
She shoots for levity first. "Hey, with your track record, you at least don't need to worry about becoming anything but a twink!"
Tucker elbows her in the side, hard, but after a second the sound of Danny's giggles makes it to their ears, and they both let out a small breath of relief. Tucker leans in, all business. "Okay, but seriously dude, the fangs don't mean anyth-" Sam derails his bulldozer help mode with a wave of her hand in front of his face.
"I agree that this conversation needs to be had," she says sheepishly, " but this might not be the place to have itm" Tucker scans the room, tables relatively full, and twist his face.
"Crap, yeah, you're right." He tak esthe tray and stands, holding it out for Sam and Danny's trash. "My house?" He asks at the same time Sam offers her remaining fries to Danny.
Sam makes a muffler noise of agreement through her last bite of veggie burger. Danny replies, much more civilized, with a "sounds good."
The walk to Tuck's house is filled with a light (intense) conversation (debate) about whether smiley fries are ultra-recyclo-vegetarian-friendly. Danny just interjects that they seem pretty friendly, with thesmiling all the time and all.
The trio retreat to Tucker's loft after a quick chorus of "Hi, Mom!"s to Angela and settle in a close triangle of beanbag chairs in need of refilling.
Tucker picks up right where he left off, not worried about his mom eavesdropping despite the open air between them and the kitchen below. It makes it obvious how much him and his mom trust each other, and Sam lets herself be a little envious. "Look, Danny, you having fangs doesn't mean that you're turning into that guy. The only reason he even had fangs was because he was part Vlad, who had them to begin with. For all we know, growing fangs could just be a sort of halfa puberty!"
"That is a wonderful mental image. Thanks, Tucker," Danny says with a half-laugh. "And even if that's true, it's unsavoury enough to have the same teeth as that fruit loop on its own." He scrunched his nose at his clasped hands in his lap.
"Hey, there's nothing to be worried about. You just gained an ability!"
Danny raised his eyebrows at her, his forehead supported by his splayed fingers. "The ability to…?"
"To rip into chicken legs like a feral animal!" Danny blinked, and Tucker choked on a laugh outside ofnSam's vision. "You're more like a rabid raccoon than a stupid fruit loop who couldn't decide if he was going to be a ghost or a vampire for Halloween, okay?"
Tucker continues wheezing, so Danny consolingly pats him on the shoulder. "That definitely isn't what I wrote down for what I wanted to be when I grew up, like, ever, but I appreciate it."
Sam frowned. Danny's fears hadn't been completely assuaged yet, that much was obvious from his quietness. What else could she say?
"And Danny," she makes sure to start out with a more serious tone, "there's no way you would ever turn into him. I'm sure of it. You stressing over it is proof enough- you know exactly how it would happen, and you don't want it to happen, so you know what not to do!"
"I know," Danny says with a suggested but. He does not follow up with the but.
Tucker, close to him but finished laughing by now, nudges him with his knee. "I sense a but?"
"Yeah, you- you guys are right, and I'm being irrational, but I can't help… just being reminded of him every time I see them or feel them. And it sucks."
Tucker and Sam are quiet for a bit. "Well, then I guess all we need to do is associate them with different things!" Sam says.
"Yeah, you're right." Danny shifts in his beanbag, and the bad fake leather and filling makes it loud. "All of that doesn't change the fact that he still exists, though. He did happen, and if he escapes, he could wreck everything all over again."
"That is a possiblilty," Tucker says, and Sam shotos a glare at him, "but remember who exactly is keeping watch over him! Clockwork is the absolute best person to be that guy's keeper! He's the one dude you can't bamboozle."
"Now that's an idea!" Sam straightens and tries to get up. Danny holds out his arm for her, which she gratefully takes and balances herself with. Their comfortably cramped beanbag chair triangle is a bit more cramped than comfy with her standing up in the middle of it like Godzilla. "We should go to Clockwork's right now!" She turns to Danny enthusiastically. "It's been a while since you visited him anyway, right?"
Danny nodded with a shy smile. Hell yeah! Score! Tucker grins at Sam appreciatively and mouths perfect!
"So what are we waiting for? Let's go, let's go, Ghost Zone ahoy!" Sam urges before either of them can answer her with homework. Not that they would.
Danny transforms to get them to his house faster, and as they pile into the Specter Speeder Sam notices that Danny's new fangs don't look any longer in Phantom form, which is good. Thankfully the ride is smooth sailing and they don't run into any ghosts they recognize.
The door swings open when the three of them float up, and Sam smirks. It's just like the keeper of time to be expecting them.
He still pretends not to be, though, apparent by how he's reading a thick book in a comfy chair with his feet propped up next to the fireplace in his library. His floating ghostly screens of all time hang in front of the opposite wall, showing an empty bedroom Sam doesn't recognize, looking like a paused TV. His fireplace is dark, unlit, and upon closer inspection, Sam realizes there isn't even wood in there. Just a clock's pendulum. She has to choke back a laugh.
"Welcome," Clockwork greets without looking up. He just closes his book and rises out of the plush chair, waving it away and making it wink away to nothing. Sam hopes that it reappears on a shelf somewhere and Clockwork didn't just deem an aspiring writer worthless and yeet their beloved work into oblivion, never to be seen again or even preserved in the Library of Time.
"I take it you all aren't here to simply catch up?" He starts making his way along the shelves, beckoning them to follow. Danny's tenser than he ever is in Clockwork's lair. Sam makes an effort to appear more relaxed than ever when taking the lead, hoping it'll help to give him and example or at least show him that she's confident, there's no reason for him to be nervous. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Tucker take his hand, and smiles. She's forever grateful for the softer side of Tuck, he really is the best.
Clockwork leads them to the thermos, sitting on its own on a shelf between bookends that keep the neighbouring books at a respectful distance. Even though she knoews who exactly is inside and the havoc he wreaked, it still manages to look unassuming. Just like any other of the Fenton Thermoses. It doesn't even have the grace to be dirty or busted up to prove the hell Danny went through to stuff the guy in there.
Danny stops yards away, apparently just fine with it being in his line of sight. Neither Clockwork nor Tucker try to make him go any farther, but on Tucker's end that might be partly because Danny's grip on his hand is turning it paler and paler. He endures it like a trooper. Clockwork floats up to Danny, fluctuating between grey and middle-aged, careful not to block his vision.
It would make sense if the ghost's ages directly correlated with his mindset, because he hasn't been a toddler at all yet, and he's acting pretty fatherly. Somehow his solid red eyes manage to convey sincere, human empathy, and the concept of ghosts being monsters from another dimension, even jokingly, is completely ruled out in Sam's mind.
Clockwork reaches a hand out of his cape that touches Danny softly on the shoulder. It looks like he has to tear his eyes away from the thermos. Danny's jaw is working, obviously running over his fangs with his tongue, and Sam wants to stop him, remind him that the fangs don't mean anything, but keeps her mouth shut. Right now is Clockwork's time to shine.
"Can I hug you?" the old man asks in the softest voice Sam's ever heard. Despire the shivers running down his arms, Danny gulps and nods. The white noise of the quietly clicking clocks and grinding gears makes it so that she can't hear the movement of Clockwor's thick cape as he slowly envelops him, but the ghosts and kids are so silent otherwise Sam swears they would have been able to. Their sheer size difference turns it into a bear hug. Clockwork says quietly, not quite in a whisper, "Trust me when I say I've made all necessary precautions to prevent his escape. In every timeline."
He continues to speak to Danny, but lowers his voice enough so Sam can't make out the words. It's enough to watch Danny deflate minute by minute and know whatever Clockwork's saying is reaching him- really reaching him.
Danny returns the hug with his free hand, and Tucker, whose hand has regained its colour, smiles at Sam behind him.
She smiles back, and deflates a little herself.
"Oh my GOD, what are THOSE?"
Danny chuckles as he covers his ears to save himself from Paulina's shriek. "What are thooose," he repeats in the appropriate meme voice.
"Danny, no, I'm serious, what is that? Kwan, get over here!"
Kwan, ever-obedient, does so, and looks in Danny's mouth where Paulina is pointing, horrified. Danny cheekily lets his mouth be on full display. "What? What is- ooooh my god your teeth are sharp. Can I touch them?"
Paulina swats his hand away from Danny's face, disgusted by his fascination.
Danny's all smirks and bravado, well-practiced among these people he's tried to make his friends once upon a time, but he can feel his heart beating in his chest. He tries to ignore it and get a good grasp on the story he conjured up with Sam and Tucker at their last sleepover. When he's regular old Fenton, it's a lot easier to jumble words and botch details. He's gotta be careful.
"How the heck did you manage that?" Danny appreciates Kwan. He's the nicest of the bunch, really.
"I got them filed at the dentist!" He tries to puff out his chest, but that's yet another thing made a lot more difficult by not being Phantom. Even though no one's misgendered Phantom to his knowledge, Paulina's not above "poking fun" at Fenton by reminding him that he's trans, even though she cut out deadnaming him after Sam tore into her about it big-time. Even though he knows conceptually his binder works well, he still doesn't like looking down at himself. He's proud of how much confidence bleeds into his voice, though, and is optimistic that carries it.
Kwan blinks at him owlishly. "Dr. Irgens does that?"
Oh, goddamn them and the small town they live in. "Nah man, I go out of town."
"Okay," Paulina says, her face saying she was very not okay with that, "but literally why?"
This, Danny doesn't have to forge an answer for. He levels a look at Paulina, raising an eyebrow. "Dude, I'm friends with Sam Manson. Why not?"
In the end, Danny's fangs only grow out a little bit. Thankfully they aren't as large and noticeable as Vlad's or his , just short enough for the dentist excuse to barely work, but sharp enough to-
"-make a werewolf costume awesome!"
All three of them are in a Walmart deciding and buying their Halloween costumes. Sam's standing with her weight on one leg and a hand on her hip, gesturing at… well, Danny can best describe it as a half-assed furry display. She's pointing at one black and white tail in particular, and Danny's pride keeps him from showing how good an idea he thinks this really is.
"Dash isn't going to stop calling me a furry until Christmas."
"And neither am I," Tucker adds.
"Shut up, Tucker, Danny, you gotta admit this is a genius idea! Remember that flannel you got too much blood on when Johnny ran you over last week?"
"That was two weeks ago."
"Whatever, you can rip it up a little and wear it with some of your torn-up jeans too!"
Danny almost interjects with But most of those have blood on them before he remembers that no, he isn't dressing for school for once, and this is perfect!
Sam spots the shift in his expression immediately, taking the tail off the rack and dropping it in the cart while Tucker cheers, "Furry Danny! Furry Danny!"
Danny sighs, shaking his head with a smile. He steps up to the display and picks out the paws that look the best. He's very glad that Sam is funding Halloween again, because the tail and paws together well exceed his allowance, especially with him using most of it for first-aid supplies all the time. The paws he chooses don't exactly match the tail, they're all black, but they're fingerless gloves, and there are toe beans. Stellar.
Tucker's just petering off his cheer after getting no reaction, so Danny utilizes the element of surprise to viciously taser him on his way to the cart. Tuck yelps loudly and crumples in half.
Both of his friends' laughing makes Danny forget there are other people in the costume aisles there to give them strange looks.
And if some of those looks catch on the fangs in his mouth, it's Halloween anyways, isn't it?