A/N: Hi! I have something to say, but I'll keep it short. In a few days, whenever I think I have announced it enough, I'll be changing my pen name. Because really, uula is stupid. I was trying out all sorts of cool names at the time, to find out that they were already taken, so in my frustration I typed four random characters, resulting in... right. I wasn't gonna publish at the time, just review and set alerts, and now I'm tired of it.
Not gonna change it by much though. It's still dumb, but better than it was, and it will resemble the old one so you'll know it's still the same old silly obsessive me.
I said I'd keep it short, and I'm not. I'm sorry.
About this one shot: it's a try out. I've sort of started a series of one shots with the title... well, that comes at the end of this story. And when I say series, I mean that I have about half of the first one done, and have no clue about any sequels. Other than that, I've started two other stories, and I have ideas for two more. Not a clue as to where they're going yet though. Ah, so many stories, so little time...
Why are you still reading this? Go read the story!
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.
1. Introduction
They were sitting on top of the ops center like they used to, quietly watching the sun set in the warm summer breeze. The town seemed peaceful from up there, not infested with crooks, criminals or ghosts. A police siren in the distance told them otherwise.
"So," Danny said after a while, sitting cross legged on the roof, leaning forward to grab his glass of wine, "You're back to stay."
Sam nodded, sipping her glass, while eying the half empty bottle that was standing in the middle. She was laying on her side, leaning on her right elbow in a position that was sure to become uncomfortable soon.
"Hey man," Tucker, who was sitting with his back against the structure, said, "Can't let you have all the fun by yourself, you know. Only ghost hunting in the holidays just doesn't cut it."
He swallowed the remainder of the wine in his glass in one large gulp, and reached for the bottle.
"You?" he asked Danny, holding the bottle close to Danny's glass, but he shook his head.
"Your loss," Tucker said, serving himself, and then Sam, who held her glass close to his.
She nodded her head in the direction of Danny's glass.
"You've hardly touched yours," she said, "We're celebrating. Come on, Danny, I nicked this from my parents' wine cellar especially for this occasion."
"Alcohol and ghost fighting don't go together," Danny said tensely, remembering the one time he had drunk too much, "I don't think you'd want me starting to obliterate random things just for the heck of it."
Tucker grinned. "Do I hear experience here?"
Danny looked away. Sure, he was happy his friends were back, after having been away for years, going to New York (Sam) and UCLA (Tucker). They couldn't have been further apart, with him stuck in Amity Park Community College. But he felt a pang of resentment at them, for having managed to get away from the stress and the danger, even though their parents practically forced them to go. Hell, he himself had told them to go, he'd take care of business, he'd be perfectly alright on his own.
And he had been, sort of. After all, he was still alive. But the price had been high.
Tucker took his silence as a yes, and grinned some more, but Sam frowned, always having been more sensitive to Danny's moods than Tucker was.
"So," she said, "How's the job going? At the amusement park?"
Danny shrugged. "OK, I guess. I still have it."
Tucker blinked. "I thought you were working in that car parts store near Caspar High?"
"That was last month. Got fired. Again."
"Oh." Tucker averted his eyes, finally catching on that Danny was in a foul mood.
They drank in silence for a while, Tucker and Sam refilling their glasses, Danny only taking small sips from his. The sky turned orange, the buildings black, and Venus made it's appearance in the quickly darkening sky.
"You should start your own business," Sam said, "That way you don't have a boss to fire you when you run off to fight a ghost again."
"Yeah, right," Danny answered irritably, "Because you know, I have so many talents. I'm extremely good at star gazing, sleeping late, running off in the middle of something, and oh yes, I have a mean punch. People start business because they're good at something, doing something other people want. I'm not good at anything."
"Yes you are," Tucker said, his words now slightly slurring, "You're good at ghost hunting."
"Yes!" Sam got excited, "That's it! You should start your own ghost hunting agency!"
"I already do that for free..."
"Well, you shouldn't. Let people pay for it if they want their house rid of some ghost that's haunting it. There must be a lot of those around here. We only see the violent ones."
Danny looked at her. Her cheek were flushed, her eyes were sparkling as she was gesturing to emphasize her point. She spilled some wine over her hand and frowned slightly, before licking it off.
"And we'll be in it too," Tucker said, "I work in shifts at the computer store, I can totally hunt ghosts in my free time and help you out. We'll be... the Ghost Getters!"
Sam moaned. "That is so lame. That's the name Jazz thought up when Danny was away on that fishing trip."
She took another sip from her glass, now obviously slightly drunk, and started laughing.
"How about... Phantom Fighters!"
Danny shook his head, amused. "Too obvious. I'm supposed to keep my identity a secret, Sam. How about just Fenton Works II?"
"Fenton works too?"
Sam and Tucker's laughter was infectious, and a small smile tugged at Danny's lips. Sam got up, swaying a little, and raised her finger.
"I know," she said, and then frowned, "No, I forgot."
She sat down again with a thud. Tucker was in hysterics.
"S-s-s...," he spluttered, taking several attempt to get it out, "S-Spook Spotters!"
Danny stared at Sam. She was giggling. Sam never giggled. It was not goth-like. She furrowed her brows in a comical concentration.
"Apparition Apprehenders," she got out, and Tucker started clapping her accomplishing this feat without stuttering.
Danny shook his head, now grinning widely. Trust his friends to make him feel better. An idea struck him, and he raised his glass.
"Specter Detectors," he said.
His friends quieted down and looked at him. Then Sam raised her glass too, and nodded. Tucker solemnly joined in, and they toasted.
"Specter Detectors it is," Tucker said, "You'll fly me home, right, Danny?"
I don't presume to know anything about UCLA or any colleges in New York. It's unimportant to the story, and I picked them randomly because they sounded familiar.
