Phantom's Secret Diary
By. Anthiena
Disclaimer: Don't own. Hartman would be displeased by us yaoi fans...
Chapter Note: I really enjoy reviews. I noticed a bunch of alerts, but only one review! Thank you, Trinity Fenton-Phantom! I was going to work on another fic of mine, but misplaced the notebook somewhere in my house.... fall cleaning, you know.
Historical Note: The Twelfth Night celebrations were infamous back in the middle ages and were stopped by the Vatican because of the debauchery going on. It's a very old tradition, dating back to BC times and was adopted by the church to entice Pagans who loved their holidays. The date of Christmas itself was picked to coincide with a Mithriac cult celebration on the same day. Yule could be considered the original Christmas, which is celebrated on the solstice. Barnacle Bill is a real call-and-response song written in the 1700's that is very dirty.

Jan 1, 20-- (Year 1)

So the Christmas party. I'm supposed to write about the damn Christmas party, but first, I'm venting on Jazz. You see, she has my journals from all thorugh high school and is going to make a discertation, a book or something about my thoughts and feelings. That's my life! There's already a few reporters who follow me around at certain occasions (it used to be worst. Everyday. Ugh.) The fact that I distracted Spectra once by copping a feel is nobody's business but mine and Spectra's. It worked, by the way. She was flattered for some reason after she slapped me really hard.

Yet for some reason, I gave her permission; I think. She and I had a talk about asking me things when I'm half-asleep. "...which reminds me. Remember when I told you I thought I liked both guys and girls? You weren't surprised. Why? How did you know?" I asked her.

Jazz looked surprised. "I suppose you would block it out. I saw it and your journals recently confirmed my suspicions, but your first crush was at fourteen. I wanted to talk to you about it back then, but the Spectra thing kind of put it out of my mind for a long time. Don't you remember?"

You would think I'd remember something like that, but I couldn't. I was mildly freaked. "No, I don't."

"It was something you never admitted to yourself-you never said crush in your journals and you went into denial pretty quick, so I'm not too surprised, but every time you saw this person, you reacted very strongly, almost jealously." She noted.

I shook my head. I was pretty laid back until shortly after I met Spectra. I aquired a temper, which I've learned how to handle since then, but I had a few memorable times where I lost my temper with the ghost I was fighting. Thankfully, nobody was ever seriously hurt. "I don't remember anything like that. Who was it, anyway?"

She hesitated. "I didn't know for sure who it was exactly until relatively recently; I never put the pieces together until I compared notes with my diaries. I still can't believe whose name popped up, but..."

"-but what, Jazz?"

"I'm not sure you're really ready to hear it, Danny. When it inevitably turned sour, you buried your bisexuality for years." She explained. "Even now, your homosexual partners are as far off from that crush as you can logically get. it's why those guys have never lasted-you might chase those rough types, but it's not what you really want."

I was surprised. My new guy wasn't my usual type; maybe she was onto something. "Well maybe that's why I started seeing someone really different. He's an artist and really smart, but kinda nice." I was blushing, I know it.

"What's his name? What's his major? Is he cute?" She spoke in a rush. I gave her a dirty look. Why does she do this with all my boyfriends? Seriously. "What? It's for the advancement of psychology!"

I rolled my eyes. I'll believe that when my mom proclaims her love of Prada. "He doesn't go to school, he's older than me. He's pretty attractive, very New York bohemian. His name is Ghost Writer."

She looked blank a moment. "You're dating a ghost?"

"Uh, yeah." That shut her up. "So who did I like when I was fourteen?"

"Well he wasn't an artist..." She began and stopped.

A cold feeling seized me and I went ghost. It was Technus; with all the portable gear you see at a college, it took a while to track him down. By then it was pretty late and I had to get back to my dorm accross state. Technically, he's breaking truce, but so was I, so I'm not bothering Walker with it. I found out during my third year of being a hybrid that the "Christmas" Truce actually begins on the winter solstice-the biggest party is on the 25th, but the truce lasts until twelve nights after Christmas. Most ghosts are too busy preparing for the Twelfth Night party to bother with the human world. Technus isn't going to that party, apparently.

Walker didn't let me into that party until I was eighteen. The main differences between that party and a frat party is that you can count on a fight not breaking out and everybody getting lucky. Turns out a lot of ghost children are conceived that day. Also turns out that any ghost who shows up alone has to 'honor' any who ask. No wonder most of the party-goers brought dates. I haven't gone to one since.

The only ghost who was willing-and had the time- to explain those things to me was one I hadn't met before and have seen at the parties since... the truce parties, that is. She is Psyche, Mistress of Emotions; she is able to sense and affect emotions and create all sorts of permanent things out of ectoplasm. She's actually friendly, but not overboard with it like Frostbite is. She's pretty quiet and hides out most of the year, which I don't blame her for. She's got a lot of enemies and bad feeling towards her.

The Christmas Truce Party was fairly typical half the night. Skulker had a drinking contest with Vlad, who sang some really dirty songs that cracked me up. That man can actually sing alright. Skulker, as usual, defied science and drank Vlad under the table. I know how tiny Skulker really is, that should not be possible. Vlad still does it every year and the outcome is predictable: either he's dancing on the tables or really depressed, muttering into his drink looking kinda paranoid. I prefer the dancing.

If I ever wanted to see a friendly drunk, I'd only have to look into a mirror. I wasn't completely tossed like Vlad was, but I was still well-lit and tipsy. Ember was trying to flirt with me, but I was paying attention to Vlad make an idiot of himself with Skulker, singing an old sailor's song with Psyche and Spectra doing the women's part called Barnacle Bill. I knew Psyche had to be completely trashed because usually, Psyche hates Spectra as much as Vlad hated my dad-when sober-yet there they were, Spectra's arm around Psyche, who giggled as Vlad and Skulker bellowed out the response.

Ember moved on with a shrug. Guess she gave up. "Not your cup of tea, is she?" Someone spoke in a cultured voice. I knew it wasn't Vlad, he was grinning at the bar while Psyche and Spectra did the women's part and his voice was different. It did sound familiar, though.

"Not really." I shook my head.

"Heard you made quite the impression at Twelfth Night a few years back." The guy sounded amused.

I gave the ghost a tired look. "Fuck you, man. I'd rather spend the rest of Christmas in Walker's jail than get teased about that again."

Bullet grinned at me. "I dare you, Danny Phantom." He sneered.

"We'll see if you could even arrest me if I did do anything." I retorted.

"Ah, I seem to recall you being flippant the first time we met as well." The ghost next to me quipped.

I took a closer look at him. Trench coat, scarf, glasses over glowing green eyes, a vest, teeth that would make a shark proud and extremely messy black hair. I remembered who he was mostly because there are only two ghosts I have ever seen that wear glasses: Sydney Poindexter and that guy. "Ghost Writer?"

He grinned, clapping as he bowed. "Bravo. Nothing for me to write in, fear not. You learned the lesson are there no hard feelings?"

"Nuh-uh, not really. Could've gone differently, but I kinda needed a swift kick in the ass about that at fifteen, anyway. It turned out alright, so." I shrugged.

I made small talk and I drank away the night, fairly drunk by the time the party wound down. Skulker had already brought Vlad back home, where I'm sure he'll be feeling very sorry for himself in the morning. Psyche and Spectra were off in a dark corner, Spectra not seeming very drunk at all. "...all my boyfriends have been meatheads, but you're pretty nice." I barely remember this part, so I'm pretty sure that I was slurring. "How 'bout going out together sometime?"

For some reason, he smiled at me. "That would be fine, Danny. Didn't know you swung that way-for us ghosts, that is."

"I haven't actually dated a ghost before; Twelfth Night doesn't count!"

Ghost Writer chuckled. "Don't worry, I don't think any sane ghost has ever dated a human before either." Nevermind the one night stands and attacks.

"There are sane ghosts?" I raised an eyebrow as Ghost Writer snickered, which makes me feel better, even if I still think I made a drunken idiot of myself. Worst pick up lines, ever. I can't believe I asked him out. I can't believe he said yes! I'm such a spaz...

I'm nervous. It feels like the first time I went on a date with a guy. Oh man, I am not drinking on my date tomorrow. I might as well get some sleep. Good night...