A/N: Is this fic kinda stupid? Yes. Is anyone going to read this and be happy they did so? Debatable. Did I waste my time writing a chapter this long? Only time will tell. This was only written because I wanted to do a body swap fic, and I remembered RC9GN existed. To anyone who wanted me to update my other DP crossover fic, don't worry! New chapter is practically done and will be up soon. To everyone else, enjoy this new trainwreck.

Sunlight poured through the room onto Danny, lighting up the area under his eyelids. He scowled, determined not to have nature force him awake early on the one night he could get a full eight hours of sleep. Danny rolled over onto his side, face down into the pillow, feeling the comfortable warmth of the blanket shift with him. There was a faint scent of detergent in the sheets. He groggily noted that this was the most peaceful and warm he'd been in a while, before the observation dissolved into the hazy jumble of dreams.

Until he rolled over again onto empty air. Danny's stomach lurched, a small yelp of surprise escaping him before he was falling. The flightlessness lasted for less than a second before he was sent sprawling against a hardwood floor, his head knocking against something on his way down. Danny jolted up, scrambling onto his feet as fast as he could muster, letting the blanket he was previously wrapped in slide off his shoulders and onto the floor. Pain bloomed where the impact hit hardest, running up in dull waves up his arms and skull. His fists were raised, on edge for an attack, but it never came. Instead, while he was scanning his surroundings for potential threats, a sinking realization dawned on him, forming a hard knot at the bottom of his stomach.

This wasn't Danny's room. Panic started to flood him as he took in the new surroundings. His first thought, before he could process anything useful, was that he was kidnapped. His mind was racing. Was it Vlad? Skulker? Literally any of his hundreds of possible enemies? The questions didn't stop while he finally blinked away the tired haze in his eyes, watching as blurry edges became sharp again until he could fully comprehend where he was.

Danny was in a typical crowded teenage bedroom. The boy's breathing slowed as his sudden panic started to recede when he realized this was the absolute worst place to hold a ghost hostage. Nothing was even tying him down. He stayed where he was for a bit longer, waiting to see if anything would make itself known, before he slowly relaxed and let his hands fall to his sides. Nothing was in the shadows, as far as Danny could sense. Tentatively, he started walking around the space, looking for any clues that could be helpful in telling him where he was.

Posters were messily stuck everywhere, some hanging askew and clinging onto a single piece of tape, mostly of popular bands and some video games he recognized. He stepped closer to one to get a closer look at the artwork, before he felt something under his foot accompanied with a soft crackle. Frowning, he looked to see what he stepped on to find it was an empty chip bag, part of a pile of wrappers and soda cans leading back to a small flat screen TV sitting on the floor. A shirt was draped over it. Hooked up to it was a game console. Which, Danny noted, maybe with a little bit of jealousy, was the newest one on the market. A shiny red keytar was propped up on the wall near it, an instrument that Danny found a little lame, because he could definitely imagine someone like Technus playing it. Moving on, he started going through the side of the room behind him.

It was noticeably less messy in this section. There was the bed he'd fallen out of. It was a tall almost bunk bed, a mattress nestled at the top and a desk built into the bottom of the wooden frame. School supplies and random junk were scattered across it, illuminated by a desk lamp that hadn't been turned off (which he'd made sure to do, because c'mon, that was just wasteful). The safety rail at the top of the bed had been pushed down, which explains why nothing stopped him from falling from on high. Danny rubbed his head with a wince as another wave of hurt washed over him. Disregarding the obvious hazard a bed like that posed, this would probably be the easiest room to escape from, even without intangibility. Especially thanks to the unlocked, big, open window to the right of him.

It was breezy out, wind fluttering the curtains. Looking out of it, Danny couldn't recognize any of the buildings outside. Optimistically, this could be a street in Amity he hadn't been in before, but it didn't resemble the rest of the town. Everything seemed brighter and newer, absent of the apparent history most houses had where he lived. Not to mention everything was so much cheerier, lacking the atmosphere that had given Amity Park its signature haunted look. And no sign of recent ghost damage. His hands shook as he nervously gripped the window sill he was leaning on. How far away from home was he? There was no way of telling, but he could be in another town, another state, hell, another country for all he knew. Closing his eyes, he focused on the chill from outside brushing against his face, which was unusually warm. Getting panicked was probably the least helpful thing in this situation. Slowly, he started taking deep inhales. What happened last night?

Danny Phantom was ghost fighting. Ember had escaped yet again from the Ghost Zone, and was wreaking havoc at the local music store. She was far past trying to broadcast her music to the public anymore. Everyone in Amity Park was now well aware she wasn't human. So she was taking her anger at her plummeting record sales onto all other albums. Danny probably would have felt bad for her if she didn't immediately try to rock him into the cement. The rest of the fight afterwards was a blur. A quip here, a punch there, and it was over as fast as the conflict began. And then afterward… He'd gone home, hadn't he? Sam was on the phone with him, doing something with Tucker. Probably hanging out in her bowling alley. Without Danny, unfortunately. Most of the conversation was muddled in his memories. At that moment he just wanted to go to bed. He didn't remember actually ending up at home, or whether or not he fell asleep at any point, but he definitely didn't remember crashing at some random kid's bedroom.

Maybe he fainted, and one of his more dedicated fans dragged him back to their house to try and help him. Danny was pretty scuffed up after the encounter, and it wouldn't be the first time an onlooker offered Phantom medical care. Even Mr. Lancer had once asked to bandage one of his nastier gashes. Obviously, most citizens had no idea how ghost biology worked, but it's the thought that counts. It also certainly wouldn't be the first time he was invited by strangers to rest indoors. Danny had always turned them down before, for obvious reasons, but if he was unconscious…

Oh god. His identity! What did they see? Danny stumbled back from the window, carelessly pulling one curtain over the window as if someone was watching. Eyes flickered down to his hands, praying that he was still in ghost form, before suddenly balking.

There were no white gloves. Danny's skin was paler now, just slightly, his fingers longer and thinner. He just stared at them until it clicked in his head, denial smoothing over into bewildered acceptance. He was human, but these hands were not his. Frantically, he found and ran to the nearest mirror, a full body one loosely leaned on a closet, almost tripping over his own legs with an awkwardness he hadn't had before.

A different face greeted him.

Danny froze, his thoughts momentarily stopping as his eyes swept over himself. The face belonged to a teenage boy, maybe a year younger if Danny had to guess. This person was tall, a good couple of inches more than him, and extremely lanky, to the point where they looked like a stick figure. The wrinkled, baggy white shirt and oversized boxer briefs only exacerbated their figure, comically so. Under the fabric were bruises, fresh and old, mottled purple everywhere over his shins. The kid's features were sharp and youthful, the nose slightly crooked on close inspection. Oddly, the most striking feature out of them all was that his hair was a deep shade of purple, a spiky haircut dyed to the roots. Something that Danny wouldn't be caught dead walking around with.

Nervously Danny took a couple of steps back, watching as his reflection moved with him, as his foot caught on some trash lying on the floor and he flailed around trying to restore his balance. When he was finally done correcting himself and staring at the mirror like it had offended him, Danny leaned over, hand on the frame, deep in thought.

"Well shit." Because this is exactly what he needed right now. Because the constant ghost attacks and last minute school papers were not enough to screw him over. Because life needed to find one more reason to make Danny Fenton miserable. Even his voice was different, higher pitched and scratchy. Well, looking at the bright side, at least he didn't have to worry about his secret identity. Danny gave out a dry chuckle at the thought, mostly out of sheer exasperation at the irony. He glanced at the mirror again, half hoping that he was hallucinating, on some weird ghost drug he must've accidentally ingested, and now was the part where he sobered up. But no, the same reflection looked up at him, the same squinted expression mirrored. Part of him was almost done with this, but the other part that was panicking hadn't fully subsided. Well, he had been wishing for a vacation. Maybe he was dumb enough to voice that thought out loud and Desiree decided to get back at him.

Danny tried focusing. Trying to get ahold of his ghost side, or really anything, something. He tried, head now leaning on the mirror along with his arm, trying to mentally center himself. Going ghost was as easy as breathing to him now, so it's really uncomfortable to try walking himself through the process manually. Danny probably stood there like an idiot for a good ten minutes before he felt anything out of the ordinary. There was a spark of something, something powerful. It raised the hair on his(?) arms, a sort of tugging feeling in his chest, and for a second Danny started to get his hopes up high. Then it fizzled out, gone without a trace. He frowned. It didn't feel like ecto energy, but right now he was desperate enough to take anything. Whatever it was, it didn't resurface.

Damn it. Standing there wasn't going to help him, he'd already wasted a bunch of valuable time as is. Whatever that spark was, he didn't think it could be recreated easily. And honestly, seemed pointless. Maybe he really was hallucinating. Hallucinations can feel physical, right? He'll think about it later.

Danny straightened himself out as he went straight for the desk in the room, intent on finding something of use. There was a computer, also noticeably new, on the desk, but Danny was immediately blocked by a password. The hint on the neon post-it stuck on it was equally unhelpful: you already know it, schoob! He rolled his eyes. It was one of those kids. But he did try typing in the weird slang as the password before giving up.

His next step was to look for a name to attach to this person. It didn't take too long before he noticed homework assignments scattered on top of a folder. Bingo. Right at the top, in neat blocky letters, was written Randy Cunningham.

Randy, huh? It felt nice to finally be able to name the guy whose body he was stealing. The boy eyed the rest of the papers. A lot of them didn't look that helpful, but there was a chance there might be something in there that could clear everything up. Or at least tell him more about Randy. But it would take time, and who knows if Randy had some sort of appointment he had to keep. Actually, what day was it today? He checked back on the computer, still showing the date. It was Thursday, the next day. He groaned. At least he wasn't unconscious for weeks or something, but it still was a school day. Looks like Randy will be cutting classes today too, because Danny needed to figure out whatever was going on and reverse this ASAP. Plus, he didn't think he could handle pretending to be another person right now. Especially a person he's never met.

Suddenly, the idea came to him that maybe the kid who's body he was in might be in Danny's body right now. He groaned. The last thing he wanted was some guy prancing around as Phantom. Just another reason to get this straightened out now. He didn't know for sure though, so he forced himself to stop thinking about it. Danny reached for the papers again before he heard the distant buzz of a phone. At first he ignored it and let it go straight to voicemail, but immediately the pixelated ringtone returned. Several times. Eventually Danny decided to just answer it, because it might actually be urgent, and because it started really annoying him. After a bit of rustling around, he found the smartphone under a history report. This better be an emergency.

It was in a sleek red and black case, noticeably higher tech than Danny's current keypad phone. The caller I.D. displayed a picture of a chubby ginger kid, the name showing Howard. He let out a deep sigh before Danny finally accepted the call, holding it up to his ear and already scheming of the best way to bullshit his way off of it.

"Hi-"

"Cunningham!" The new voice was loud, jarringly so, and it sent another throb of pain through his head. Danny had to physically tilt the speaker away from himself. "Where are you? I've been waiting around at my house forever."

So Randy did have somewhere to be. Danny let out a tired sigh as he pinched at his eyebrows. "Um, sorry dude, but-" he was quickly interrupted before he could pull out an excuse.

"Don't "dude" me, man. Don't tell me we can't even walk to school together anymore without you snubbing me." Howard sounded frustrated, like this was a problem he'd dealt with already. Perfect, looks like Danny already managed to get himself into an argument. In record time, too. "So what was it this time? A monster attack? Because I don't see anything on the-"

"I'm just sick. I won't be coming to school today." Danny cut him off, not wanting to be stuck in the middle of a lengthy rant about a stranger's problems. Howard didn't sound like he'd be too helpful in figuring this mess out anyways. Danny added in a couple of coughs for good measure. "Sorry for not texting you. Go without me."

"Can't pull a fast one on me, Cunningham. You never skip school anymore. Last time you were sick I had to threaten to call your mom so you'd stop getting snot on everything and go home."

Damn you, Randy. Danny stuttered, trying to come up with something. "W-well I'm more sick right now. I feel honestly really awful." Which wasn't a lie. Right now he was feeling terrible. Just not from a cold.

There was a crackling on the other end, like the phone was being readjusted. "Honestly? Like, so sick you're not even going on about the whole "I've got a responsibility" thing?" Howard's voice got quieter, but the accusatory edge remained. Danny refused the urge to snicker. I've got a responsibility, to what, go to class? The kid he was in sounded so dramatic.

"Yeah," He answered, when he realized Howard was waiting for an answer.

"And this isn't you just making up an excuse to go NNSing on me again, right? 'Cause you sure don't sound sick." Howard questioned, and Danny could just feel the suspicion. He raised an eyebrow. NNSing? Of course, these two had their own friend terms. And ridiculous sounding ones at that. Then again, who was he to judge? Tucker tried getting them to say arguably weirder things.

Since he didn't know what that meant, other than possibly ditching, Danny just awkwardly smiled and said "Honest." Making sure to get as nasally as possible to make it convincing.

"And what's your plan if someone gets stanked?" And now Danny was completely lost. Might be another slang term that he wasn't in the loop for, but the sudden seriousness in Howard made him slightly doubt that. And made him chuckle slightly, because hearing someone say a word like that straight faced was a little funny.

"I'll, uh, figure it out when it gets there." A classic excuse when he didn't know what he was doing. Danny already had his thumb over the button to hang up, about to say goodbye.

"I'll be over in maybe 15 minutes, 10 if I skip the crossing signals." Howard answered, maybe even cheerier hearing that his friend was sick than he should be. Danny paled. "Get the cheese puffs out, I know you've been hiding them from me last–."

"Don't come over." Danny stated sternly, quickly backpedaling when he heard the other end of the line go eerily quiet. "Uh, I-I mean you still have school. And it wouldn't be right if you skipped classes." That would sound like something Randy would say, right? He seemed to be the responsible type. "My family, my mom, will-"

"Be on a business trip till next Monday." Came the reply, not missing a beat. "Cunningham, did you forget you told me about that? No one will notice. My parents already think I'm with you, and Heidi won't care enough to check if I'm there. No one's gonna catch us and dishonor your name or some cheese."

Damn it, damn it. Well, at least he didn't have to worry about pretending in front of Randy's family members.

"No, really, and it's super contagious, it'd suck if you got it." Danny was really tempted to try crinkling up a piece of paper, trying the bad reception trick, and ending the call, but that might just guarantee Howard will show up at the door.

"Pfft, don't care. If I get sick I get to skip school for real. Besides, if you're telling the truth about you being sick, then you'll be fine. You're not the one one who'll get in trouble."

"Please-"

"Bup bup bup, and no quoting the Nomicon at me either. Not in the mood for a philosophy lesson. Still want those cheese puffs. See ya!" The smartphone beeped as the line went dead, leaving Danny holding it in shock. The boy moved it away from his ear and not too gently slammed it back onto the table, upsetting a pencil, and watched it roll onto the floor with a muted clack. A long sigh exited him, the former ghost's shoulders relaxing from unknown tension as he brought up a hand to rub at his headache.

Looks like he'll have to get dressed.