Prompt PR012, from Aedelia: Ever since developing his ice powers, Danny rarely got sick anymore. When he catches a ghost bug that's going around, it's up to his friends and ghostly allies to keep things under control until he gets better.

Ghost Bug Out

—

Danny sneezes, and his outline goes fuzzy for a moment.

Tucker blinks. "Uh," he says, eloquently, wondering if what he just saw was real. "…You good man?"

"Ugh, sorry," Danny apologizes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He sits back in his seat, the plastic chair back bending under his weight. "I think I'm coming down with something."

Frowning, concerned, Tucker hands him a tissue pack from his bag's side pocket. "Geez, dude, that sucks," he consoles at last, deciding not to ask. Maybe it was just a momentary lapse of control on his intangibility. Being sick when you're a ghost is just adding insult to injury. "I can't even remember the last time you got sick."

"After the first Desiree debacle, I think?" Danny guesses.

"…No," Tucker says slowly, remembering that awful flu they'd both caught from Sam. "I think it was actually when you got your ice powers?" So, two years ago. Maybe Danny's immune system is overdue.

"That doesn't count," Danny sniffs. "I wasn't actually sick. I was developing a new ghost power."

"Psh." Tucker scoffs. "Semantics. Either way, you caught a cold."

Danny makes a miserable face. "Ugh. Can we not do puns right now, please?" he begs.

No puns? Tucker sits up, alarmed. Oh, this must be serious.

"Hey listen," Tucker says, casting a glance around at Mr Lancer's classroom, students still filtering in. They've still got a minute before the bell rings. "I know we're already here, but if you want, we can ditch class and get you some cold meds or something."

Danny waves him off, eyes sliding closed. "Tuck, I'll be fine," he insists. "It's seventh period. I can handle one more class."

Tucker looks at him for a long moment, judging the situation and weighing the risks. Frankly, Danny looks miserable; cheeks flushed a bit, eyes drooping, posture slumped worse than normal. Danny doesn't always know his own limits, but. Well. This seems doable, at least.

"All right," Tucker says at last. "If you're sure."

"I am," Danny sniffs. "Besides, I need to patrol after school anyway."

"Yeahhhhhhhh no," Tucker says, drawing a line. "You're coming home with me to crash at my house." Because god knows Fentonworks isn't restful in the slightest, and maybe, if Tucker bugs his mom enough, maybe she'll make some chicken noodle.

"Like you can stop me," Danny challenges.

The bell rings overhead before Tucker can respond, echoing through the halls. The sound is loud and grating; Danny winces at the noise.

Headache, Tucker diagnoses. "—Alright, bet," he answers. With the state Danny is in now, Tucker doubts it'll be hard.

Danny opens his mouth to argue, then pauses, suddenly, his gaze wandering into the distance; then he violently sneezes again. This time, his outline doesn't fuzz so much as it flickers, jerking between frames like a lo-res animation missing a couple cels.

—Okay. So he didn't imagine it, last time.

"Danny?—" Tucker asks, concerned.

"Alright, settle down, class, settle down—Dash, get rid of your gum," Lancer orders, taking point at the front of the blackboard. He grabs the chalk and starts writing on the blackboard as the students mill towards their seats. "We're picking up with Orson Wells' Time Machine again today. Please get out your books."

Danny turns to face the front again, digging through his bag. Tucker stares at the back of his head, feeling torn.

It's okay, he thinks. It's fine. Danny said he was fine. We just have to get through one period.

Tucker remembers freshman year, when Danny could barely hold on to his own visibility and tangibility, how he tumbled out of his own chair twice a day and still, no one noticed. As long as no one squinted too hard at Danny while he was sneezing—

Yeah. Should be fine.

"The Time Machine, chapter three," Lancer says, clearing his throat. "Who would like to read first? —Mr Fenton?" He raises his eyebrows at the boys.

Tucker curses inwardly. Today of all days?

Lancer has this uncanny ability to zero in on Danny when he's feeling low. Usually, he uses it for good - making a point to ask him a question, early on in the period, at least earning Danny participation points before he inevitably falls asleep.

Usually, Tucker appreciates the gesture towards his friend. But today…

As Danny stands, with a miserable sniff, Tucker quietly makes plans to infect Lancer's home computer with a Trojan or twelve.

"Okay, uh," Danny says. "Chapter three." He sways a bit, and squints at the page in front of him, unsteady. Then he begins.

" 'I told some of you last Thursday,'" Danny recites slowly. "—'of the principles of the Time Machine', and showed you the actual thing its—el—f—"

Because this is Danny, and his luck is terrible, he doesn't even make it a full sentence in. The halfa pauses, mid word, voice trailing off in his throat.

"Ah—" Danny starts, head tilting back. Another pause, and he makes a face. "Aaaa—"

And then, just like that—with a very loud sneeze—

"—Choo!"

…Danny disappears.

The book in his hands falls from the air, tumbling without fanfare to the floor. The sneeze seems to echo, reverberating off the walls. Lancer, Tucker—the whole class, really—blink at the spot where their classmate once stood, staring in confusion.

"Uh… Danny?" Tucker asks.

No response.

Welp, Tucker thinks. There's no way to downplay that. He's gone.

Tucker stands and leans forward, hesitantly running his hand through the empty air. His fingers meet nothing, no resistance, no cold spots. Danny does not reappear.

There's an echoing silence throughout the classroom; Tucker swears he could hear a pin drop.

Then, with an innocuous, dumbstruck comment,

"…Did Fenton just sneeze himself out of existence?" Dash asks.

—The classroom erupts into chaos.

—