Just A Kiss, a danny phantom fanfic

Disclaimer: Uh, not a clue who owns it, but it sure isn't me! The lyrics are "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers. (They did "Somebody Told Me" too, in case that rings a bell….)

Author's Note: First Danny Phantom fic. The point of view changes from Danny to Sam every so often….Danny is underlined, Sam is bold.

Coming out of my cage

And I've been doin' just fine

Gotta gotta be down

Because I want it all

For the longest time it was easy. Being the Goth girl, the weirdo, the freak. It was almost fun to watch people grimace just at the sight of me, 'cause them discomfort. And then it stopped being as fun, for a number of a reasons. One, nobody likes being frowned at everywhere, despite what they say or do. I don't think anyone, not even Danny or Tucker realizes that.

I guess it's too much to ask to be me and to be liked all at once. Someone or something different is never accepted easily. Why couldn't it have been the something in my case? Like, maybe just a bad pair of shoes in fifth grade, or a mistake in my hair in seventh grade. One little mishap that some people remembered but most people forgot. Why did it have to be everything about me?

The second thing is Danny, even though it's another thing I will never admit. Wouldn't you know it, I had to have the "More-Than-Just-Platonic-Feelings-For-A-Friend-Thing." Worst of all, Danny is still just a little caught up in Paulina. Sorry. A little is the understatement of the century, but it's what I'd like to believe.

But still, we talk a lot. All the time. Do you know how hard it is listening to him blabber on about her, when all I feel like doing is slapping him? Just smile and nod, Sammy, smile and nod. That's where I am now, actually. Waiting at the kitchen table at the Fenton's while Danny gets me something to drink. Think he'd understand if I asked for rum?

It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss

I kissed Sam two hours ago, and I can't get it out of my head. It's so weird talking to her now; she seems so fake. Almost as fake as I used to think Paulina was. Whatever happened to that? I can't think anymore, and all I feel like doing is kissing Sam again. But I shouldn't. She's just a friend, and Paulina and I are sort of "unofficial" but "official" at the same time. Know what I mean?

But what's weirder is she's still here. Crying, up in the bathroom. And no one else is home. What would people say? Or maybe the real thing is why do I care what people say?

Sam's up in the bathroom. Crying. I think I said that all ready. But I can't go up there, can I? I mean, it just doesn't seem right. As a friend, I'd go talk to her. But as a guy….Maybe I've always been a guy to her. And a friend.

The door between seems so much thicker than I know it to be. I'm sort of walking around in a daze, only just realizing, now that she doesn't answer the knocks, that there are sharp things in there. Like razors. Sam's feeling bad, but I don't know why. And she's locked in with razors. My head's spinning, but I keep knocking.

Now I'm falling asleep

And she's calling a cab

While he's having a smoke

And she's taking a drag

She left, with no bodily harm that I could see. She seemed mad. At me. At life? She called a cab, but she talked to someone else on the phone first. A guy. Someone who she was crying to, like how you would cry on someone's shoulder, almost. Telling your sorrows. How she used to cry on my shoulder. When did that change?

The ceiling is infinitely more interesting when you don't want to think about something. But you always end up thinking about it anyways. I need to find a different tactic.

I asked about him. When she got off the phone, and sat on the porch, I asked. She wouldn't talk to me, just cried some more. I sat beside her for a while, but I couldn't listen to her cry anymore. Tears have a special sound, did you know?

I know now, because I listened to Sam cry. All the noise that flooded my brain had nothing to do with the small noises she was making in the back of her throat, trying not to cry openly.

I don't know why this is so hard. When did Danny turn into that loser guy who we used to laugh at? What did I miss? Because it was obviously something big, since it's changed so much.

Bathrooms have always been places of solitude. They're cold, usually. It wakes you up in the morning, makes you think when you need to. I needed to think, but I don't think he understood.

When he knocked, I wanted to let him in. But then I remembered him suddenly leaning forward and kissing me. He'd just finished a sentence, and the thoughtful way he looked at me afterwards made me think of the way someone would look when they were adding an afterthought. I didn't stick around long enough to find out.

There were razors, so maybe that's what he was worried about. But was he really worried? It seemed almost mechanical, like this is how you console one of those weepy hormonal girls. I thought about the razors. But then I realized it wasn't worth it to lose my weird tribute to society over a guy who I used to think I loved.

I called Benji, and I don't know why. I've had his number written on my hand for weeks, but don't get caught up on the hygiene thing. He was just your average sleazebag at a party, but he was a persistent one. And he was eating a vegetarian meal before I showed up, so he couldn't be too much of a scam artist. Right?

He seemed surprised and unsurprised at the same time, and said he'd listen to the whole thing in the car. I think I nodded, which was stupid. But you understand how I wasn't thinking, right?

He came in fifteen minutes, but they were long, long minutes. Danny tried to sit next to me out on the steps, but the tension became unbearable. When Benji came, I didn't look back. I sat in the front, and he offered me a cigarette. There's a first time for everything, right?

Now they're going to bed

And my stomach is sick

And it's all in my head

But she's touching his---chest now

He takes off her dress now

Letting me go

And I just can't look

It's killing me

And taking control

I went home with, crying, dazed. What's a poor girl to do? Sleazebag? Maybe. Convincing? Definitely. He's doing a good job of the consoling thing, I guess. But his fingers are twitching, and he keeps looking over at a closed door. It's a small enough apartment. I know what it is.

The bedroom.

Oh well. There's a first time for everything.

It isn't suppose to work this way. Guy and girl are friends. Friendship is never really just friendship. Eventually they realize that. Yeah, right. And frogs turn into princes. That guy looked like a scammer. He probably was, but Sam's too crazy right now to know. I'll feel guilty about it later. I already do now.

But what am I supposed to do? Hold her back ,try to talk some sense into her? Knowing Sam, she'd struggle. And then the big tough protector guy would come out, tell me to leave her alone. Try to help, turn out the bad guy. Come across as the crazed lunatic recently ex-boyfriend type?

Not that we were dating. It was just a kiss. Right? Paulina wouldn't care, even if she was going to find out. But Sam is something else. I don't know what's going to happen to her. I mean, what if that guy is crazy? What if it's all my fault? What if it already is?

Back to the ceiling.

Jealousy

Turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes

Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

There's a hole in the wall. Recent. I wish I knew that guy, knew where he lived. Then I could go, and I could come across as the crazed lunatic recently-ex boyfriend. Because I wouldn't care, but Sam is something else. And I think I need her. Correction. I think I've always needed her. What was Paulina? What is Paulina?

I can't believe I could do something so stupid as to kiss her. But I really wanted to; needed to. I only wish I'd realized it sooner. I only wish I'd stopped her. God. Who knows who he is? I need to stop trying so hard. Sam's always been right, all those times I got shoved into lockers, and Sam told me to forget them, they were the losers. She was right, but I needed to be the one who could have the power of that process of labeling. And now that I do, I really don't want it. There's no rewind button on the back of my head, is there? Cause there are so many things…

I'm pulling on my jeans, boots, bra, shirt. Not bothering to straighten my hair, but stopping to look back. So much for the first time being something special. Benji is pretty good looking, but so is Paulina. The candles are snuffed out, or lie in pools of wax on the crappy furniture. Call me a fool, I won't mind. But I really think I need another kiss. And Benji just won't make the cut.

It was only a kiss, so why did I end up here? And what's up with Danny? See, even though I know he hasn't undergone any changes in the last hour or two that would make me love him more, I'm just realizing that there's nothing he can do that would make me love him less. I guess I never really thought about it before.

Sam is everything. Damn me for not knowing. Sam's glass of rum and juice is sitting on the table. Not a worthy compensation, but it's all I have, and I may just have to hold on to it for a long time. I never did that with the real thing.

I never