This one is longer than most, and is Savant Par (Danny and Tucker).

Tucker was 99% sure that letting Danny go to a bar with him today of all days wasn't his best idea. Not by far.

"Hey, man, you should probably stop soon. I know you planned on taking a taxi home, but just because you're not going to drive doesn't mean you should be completely smashed," Tucker tried to persuade his best friend.

Said best friend giggled, "Heh. Smashed. Yer talkin' 'bout not drivin' drunk an' ya said 'smashed'."

Yeah, this was an absolutely horrible idea.

"Danny, stop. Don't take another- No, wait-" Tucker protested as Danny brought the glass back up to his lips and downed the rest of the amber liquid inside. The taller man sighed, "Alright, fine, but that's it. No more."

But of course, by the time Tucker finished his plea, Danny already had another glass - how many did that make? - in hand.

"Tucker. Tucker, lissen," Danny suddenly blurted out, blue eyes wide and unfocused.

"What, Danny." The question, hardly a question at all, came in a defeated, flat tone.

Danny leaned over conspiratorially, but didn't bother to lower his voice, "I gotta tell you a secret."

"I already know you're Phantom, Danny," Tucker assured, positive that was what his more than slightly tipsy friend was talking about, "Everyone knows. They've known since the Disasteroid incident."

Danny nodded, a strangely serious expression on his face, "Seven months an' four days b'fore Sam died."

Tucker swallowed hard around the lump that was quickly forming in his throat. That was why they were there. That was why, against his better judgement, he had finally agreed to go out drinking with the short superhero.

Five years ago exactly, Sam Manson died. She was killed by debris falling from a building damaged by a stray ectoblast.

Danny's ectoblast.

Tucker shook himself bodily from his dark thoughts of a time that had long since passed, "D-don't think like that, Danny. It's not your fault. You would never hurt her on purpose. You loved her too much for that."

"But tha's the problem, Tuck," Danny slurred, shaking his head fervently, "I din't love her love her."

…What?

"It was like, there's so much weird 'bout me, an' I needed somethin' ta be not weird so I acted like Paulina an' Val an' Sam was everythin' I wanted. An' if I'mma be honest, Sam an' Val were really great an' stuff, but kissin' them was like kissin' Jazz an' it just wasn't a good feelin' but I wanted ta be normal for a bit so I did in anyway."

Tucker listened to Danny's drunken ramblings in mute fascination. So it wasn't just an urban myth that everything came to light when people were drinking. Huh.

Danny continued, "Don' get me wrong, I never woulda let Sam get hurt if I'da known 'bout the buildin' an' all, but I jus' never really loved her like that. She was family."

"Danny," Tucker cut in, "Are you going somewhere with this?"

Danny chortled again, but it was a broken sound, "Nah, I'mma stay right here where I won' be smashed. But there's another part of the secret I gotta tell ya, Tuck."

Oh, really?

Tucker raised an eyebrow, nodding at his companion to go ahead. Whether Danny understood the gesture with the state he was in or not, he kept talking.

"I din't really wanna talk 'bout it, but i's been a loooong time an' I guess if I gotta say it sometime I better do it when I don' wanna stop talkin' an' I'll only wanna not stop talkin' when I'm drunk, so even though it tastes like dog piss I'll do it anyway so I can keep talkin'."

Tucker took a moment to decipher that monstrous run-on sentence as Danny paused to figure out what he was saying. After a short few seconds, he started up again, "Back before the ghos's started doin' ghos' things, I din't think much 'bout who I really like liked, an' I jus' wen' on pretendin' all the time. But at one point, I dunno when, I jus' knew wha' the problem was. I din't like girls at all.

"Tuck, the secret is… I love ya. I did fer a lot'a years an' I'm never gonna really get over it I guess, so I wanted ta say so b'fore I try ta give up."

Oh.

Oh.

OH.

"Hey, uh, Danny," Tucker responded after a moment, "M-maybe we should talk about this sometime when you're not on your umpteenth glass of beer."

Danny's face fell, and he looked remarkably like a kicked puppy. He pushed the glass away, never having taken a single sip from it, "Nah, tha's okay. I don' wanna have ya humor me. I jus' wanted ta get that offa my mind."

"I never said anything about rejecting you."

Danny snapped his gaze back up to Tucker, eyes shining with unbridled excitement.

"C'mon, we need to get you back to your apartment for tonight. I don't want you trying to kiss me with beer breath," Tucker joked as he paid for the drinks the two had imbibed. He helped Danny stumble to his feet.

"'Kay. Thanks, Tuck. Yer the best."

"Says the guy who saves the world on a weekly basis in a skintight suit. I get a great view, you know."

"Cool."

Word Count: 915