Here we are with chapter 32! I've had a rough couple months, hence the delay, and I'm sure the next couple are gonna be rough too. But I'm chugging along at my own pace and getting things out there, and feeling better than I did before. So woo, lots of progress!

This chapter isn't ridiculously short, but it's short enough that it should be a bit of a relief after the last chapter lmao

It didn't take long for Wes and Danny to catch up to the rest of the gang. They'd only made it a few blocks down, with Walter clinging to Tucker's back while his scooter pitifully puttered along. Sam looked almost bored as she slowed down to keep pace.

Tucker was the one to realize they were being followed. He looked over his shoulder, his irritated frown quickly becoming a relieved grin. "Hey guys, they're back!"

Sam and Walter both turned around just as the Halfa duo landed, each with smiles on their faces. Walter didn't even wait for Tucker's scooter to roll to a stop; he jumped right off and stumbled over to Wes, enveloping him in a tight hug that was eagerly returned.

"So I take it he's not gonna be coming after us?" Tucker asked. He didn't have to clarify who he was talking about.

"Nope," Danny replied proudly. "We beat him pretty good, so I don't think he'll be getting up for a while. Wes gave him a mean punch to the face, too."

"He deserved it," Wes said, and nobody would argue that.

"Well, any chance we can get a lift?" asked Sam, gesturing to the scooters with her thumb. "These things aren't really good at carrying two at a time, so it's been slow."

Danny chewed his lip. He was strong enough to carry his friends as well as Walter, but carrying that many people was still an awkward endeavor. He couldn't guarantee he wouldn't drop somebody. "Think you can carry Sam, Wes?"

The taller Halfa eyed his hand, flexing it experimentally. It hurt, but it was manageable by now. "I think so."

"Wait, why doesn't he carry his dad?" Sam suggested, somewhat sour. "It's one thing when you carry me, but..." She lowered her voice to a near-whisper. "...He's weird."

"Don't worry, Sam. He's..." Danny hesitated, giving his friend a sidelong glance. "...Well. He's not into you like that. Besides, you're the lightest, and he hurt his hand and shouldn't be carrying much anyway."

"You hurt your hand?!" Walter cried.

"Not badly!" Wes insisted.

"Guys, shouldn't we be making sure Mr. Weston actually gets home?" Tucker cut in, for once acting as the voice of reason. "He did sort of hit his head." Walter rubbed at the bruise in question, frowning.

"Tucker's right," Danny agreed. "The sooner we get him and Wes home and away from Plasmius, the better."

It took some situating, but pretty soon Danny had everyone accounted for, holding Tucker and Walter in a sort of fireman carry over each shoulder, and with Tucker holding the two collapsed scooters as close to himself as he could. Wes was able to lift Sam with little issue; she was lighter than Star was, and she knew how to hold herself. She was obviously used to flying.

Everyone returned to the Weston household in fairly short order, nobody bothering with the door and instead phasing through it into the living room. Danny and Wes released their charges and transformed, and Walter resisted Danny's urging towards the couch to instead envelop his son in another massive hug.

"I'm so glad you're safe," Wes mumbled into his shoulder.

"Glad to be safe," Walter replied.

The two held each other for quite a bit, while the trio awkwardly glanced amongst themselves during the tender moment. But finally, Walter let go, holding Wes by the shoulders. "Now tell me, what on earth were you thinking?"

Wes, startled by the sudden change in mood, floundered. "I, huh?"

"Why would you do something so carelessly dangerous?" Walter chided. "Who knows what that ghost could have done to you if Danny hadn't been there? It could have been much worse than a sprained wrist."

"Careless?" Sam challenged, eyebrows raised. "We had an entire plan to get you out. We know Plasmius better than anyone, and we know how to work around his trickery."

"Yes, and I do thank you for saving me," said Walter. "But all of you ended up needlessly putting yourself in danger because of me."

"Excuse me, needlessly?" Tucker scoffed. "We aren't exactly dead weight you know, saving you would have been a heck of a lot harder if we hadn't been there to help. Besides, how is trying to save you needless?"

"I understand where you're coming from, Mr. Weston, really," Danny cut in before his friends could get too heated. "But trust me, we do stuff like this all the time. We know what we're doing."

"...Is that supposed to be comforting?" Walter asked. "You're all children. Barely even teenagers, at that. None of you should be putting yourselves in that kind of danger. I would call all of your parents if I didn't know that could end up making this whole situation worse. I don't have any say over you, as much as I hate to say it."

Walter spun around to face his son again. "But you, Wesley? I am your father, and I hereby forbid you from any more ghost fighting."

"What?!" Wes cried. "You can't do that!"

"I can and I will," Walter said sternly. "I'm putting my foot down, mister. It's too dangerous, and I won't have you getting into fights you can't win. I almost lost you once, I'm not about to lose you for good!"

Wes said nothing. All he could do was wilt and pout, staring at his feet. But while he was begrudgingly willing to accept defeat, his friends clearly weren't.

"Now hold on a second," said Tucker. "Did you really expect him to do nothing when Plasmius was threatening to kill you? His dad?"

Sam didn't give Walter a chance to reply. "Or do you think he should have left it to us 'children–'" she formed air quotes around the word, "–to rescue you alone? No? Then what else could he have done?"

Now it was Walter who was left scrambling. "...Well, there's the police, for starters–"

"And what could they do?" Danny cut in. "Do you really think they could put a ghost in jail, let alone one as strong as Plasmius?"

"But the Fentons–"

"–would probably bring the whole warehouse down trying to take him out, with you inside it. You were underground, with no obvious doors to get to you. They wouldn't have been able to find you."

Walter was quiet. He'd been argued into a corner. "...But you can't expect me to be okay with all this. This isn't safe, nothing about this is safe. Wesley could get seriously hurt, or worse."

"I know it isn't safe, dad," Wes finally piped up, quiet. "But that's why I have Danny to train me, and Sam and Tucker to help me. But I couldn't let Plasmius do what he wanted with you. We had to fight him, that was the only way to get you back. I know you just want to protect me, but I wanna keep you safe, too."

Walter didn't speak for a good long while. His shoulders sagged, and he let out a long, low breath through his nose. He smiled, but his lips were tight. "...There's no way I can stop you, is there, Wesley?"

Wes's smile was equally drawn. "Not even if you ground me."

Walter snorted. "...I still don't like this, not one bit. But, I know I can't keep you from doing what you think is best. Just... try not to get into too much trouble. And I expect you to call me every day after school and after practice, and I'd better not find you hiding any injuries. Ghost or not, you need to make sure they get taken care of properly."

Wes chuckled. "Alright, alright, I will. I promise."

"For starters," said Walter, "why don't you let me take a look at your hand? You said you hurt it."

"Oh, that's okay," Wes protested with a grin. "It's already healed up by now."

"Wesley Arnold..."

"No, I'm serious, look!" Wes laughed. He held up the offending limb, wiggling his digits. "Super ghost healing. Even if I get hurt, I don't stay hurt long, remember?"

"Trust me, Wes is fine," Danny interjected with a light smile. "That was the worst of what he got, honest. Besides, he's a jock. He can handle some scrapes and bruises." He elbowed his friend, who snickered and bumped him right back.

"Why don't we worry about you for now?" Sam suggested, ushering Walter down the hallway. "I'd feel a lot better knowing whether you had a concussion or not."

"A-Are you sure?" Walter asked, legs scrambling for purchase as Sam pushed him along. "I know you mean well, but I'm not sure you're medically qualified!"

"Oh, trust me," said Tucker, "she's the doctor of Team Phantom. She knows what she's doing."

Walter didn't like this any more than he did ten minutes ago, but he put up no further arguments, letting Sam coerce him into the bathroom and shut the door behind them.

Danny clapped his hands with finality. "Alright, while she's doing that, let's comb over the house."

"Wait, what?" Wes cocked his head, confused. "Comb for what, what are we looking for?"

"Bugs," Tucker replied, not looking up as he pulled out his PDA. "Vlad knew you were a ghost, and he had to get that information somehow."

Wes blanched. He hurried to his room, emerging seconds later with a small tool case. He rushed to the kitchen and located the landline, using a flathead screwdriver to shimmy the console open. He doubted he would find much; Vlad might have known Wes was a Halfa, but he hadn't known that Walter knew. That meant that, wherever Vlad got his intel, it probably wasn't from his house. Still, Wes didn't want to take any chances.

"...But why? What would make him look into me enough to find that out? I was sure I would be under his radar."

"Because you're my friend," Danny answered. "That makes you his enemy, and possibly a threat. Vlad's always been the type to cover his bases."

"Although it might have something to do with you always hijacking his speeches to do your whole 'cheese vampire' bit," Tucker piped up.

Danny snickered as he inspected the ceiling and walls. "You hijacked his speeches?"

Wes rolled his eyes. Turning up empty-handed, he covered up the innards of the answering machine, opening up cupboards to search for anything out of place. "He knew how to gather an audience."

"My scanner isn't finding much of anything," Tucker supplied. "Possible reading down the hall, maybe your room?"

Wes shut the cupboards, trotting to his door. And he was sure, in that moment, that Tucker was right. It wasn't anything he could quite put his finger on, nothing he could really explain, but something in the room felt just a touch off. And he realized, then, that things had felt that way for quite a while. It was so slight it was almost imperceptible if you didn't think to look, but now that Wes was aware of it, he had no idea how he missed it.

Wes combed his room over, checking all of the usual suspect areas that one might expect to find a wire. Under his desk, behind his dresser, even behind the power outlets, but nothing turned up.

...So maybe it wasn't the room that was bugged. Maybe it was him. Or, something close to him. He rummaged through his laundry, both clean and dirty, to no avail. He even checked his current outfit, and his ghost outfit when that didn't reveal anything suspicious. His phone appeared to be untapped. So that left only one thing, something he almost never left the house without. His backpack.

Wes crouched, checking every last pocket and cranny. At first, he thought he was going to find nothing out of the ordinary. But then his fingers brushed up against something small, metallic, and vaguely smooth. He thought it might have been a loose battery. That was, until it started moving.

He caged it with his fingertips before it had a chance to escape, pinching and bringing the object up so he could see it. It was most definitely a bug, and in quite a literal sense, too. Its pointed little legs flailed about, its wing case humming as Wes's thumb held it down and prevented it from taking off. The thing looked almost exactly like a miniature Plasmius, which would have been comical, if it wasn't so invasively creepy.

Wes wasn't sure if the bug was broadcasting in real time, or if it would have to get back to Vlad to relay what it had found. But Wes was taking no chances. Scowling, he pulled, draining the bug of everything it had. The thing whined pitifully, ectoplasmic green electricity sparking from it in bouts of static before it went completely limp. Utilizing the borrowed power, Wes used a small burst of strength to crush it to pieces, completely eliminating the possibility of it recharging.

He could tell, simply based on the color of the current, that the bug had been operating on ghostly energy. That meant he would have to do a more thorough search later; who knew if they could turn invisible or hide in solid objects? But for now, he was in the clear. Something in him knew it had been the only spy in the room, but he also knew he would have to comb through their devices more regularly if he wanted the house to stay bug-free.

Wes met back up with Danny and Tucker, who were peeking behind the tv. "Looks like there was just one," he informed them. "As far as I can tell, the house is clear."

"Good," Danny hummed, straightening back out. "We didn't find anything here."

"Readings look clean to me," Tucker added, holding up his blank PDA screen for all to see. "We're probably good to head home once Sam's done with your dad."

"Just finished," she said, emerging from the bathroom and dusting off her hands. Walter came out right behind her, a plain bandage on his forehead. "He's able to focus just fine, so he's not seriously hurt. Looks like he's just tired."

"I can't deny that," Walter chuckled. "I must say I had my doubts, but... Sam, yes?... Sam really does seem to know what she's doing." He pursed his lips, "too well" hanging in the air unspoken.

"...Well, it's been great," said Danny, "but I should probably get patrol out of the way so we don't get hunted by ghost wolves or something when we're trying to sleep."

"And my mom's making a casserole to die for," Tucker drooled. "You should come, Wes. There'll be enough for everyone."

Wes blinked, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "...Really? Your parents wouldn't mind?"

Tucker grinned. "Are you kidding? They love it when I bring my friends over!"

Walter crossed his arms, frowning. "So I presume you plan to take Wesley along on this patrol?"

Danny grimaced. "Just a quick one. And no dangerous ghosts, I promise. I'll send him right home if a really bad one shows up."

Walter raised a critical brow.

"...Have him home by nine?" Tucker cracked.

"...Nine. And not a minute later, you have school tomorrow," Walter conceded. His arms went slack, and he tried for a smile. "Have fun with your friends, Wesley."

Wes ran in for a hug, which his dad promptly returned. "Thanks, dad, I'll be careful!" He released Walter, going ghost and bumping Danny's arm with a loose fist. "Bet I can catch more ghosts than you can."

Danny scoffed, transforming and giving Wes's shoulder a rough shove. "You don't even have a thermos, dummy!" He took off before his friend had a chance to retort.

Wes gasped, scandalized. But despite his apparent agitation, his eyes shimmered like strawberry lemonade. Quickly twirling in a tight circle in his excitement, he flew after Danny, fully intent on catching up. "Like that's gonna stop me!"

"...Yeah, sure, I don't mind walking," Tucker said to no one in particular. He made a show of unfolding his scooter as deliberately as possible. "No, don't wait up, I'll just come find you." With no further complaint, he was motoring after them.

Sam rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, the display more affectionate than stern. "Urgh. Boys, am I right?"

Walter chuckled, smiling knowingly as he stared at the patch of ceiling Danny and Wes had flown through. He shook his head. "Don't I know it."

heh, gay

I've realized that so far, I've mostly written Tucker as the comic relief and Sam as The Bitch. Which, while aspects of their characters, isn't fully who they are. I'm trying to get better at understanding their personalities and motivations beyond the surface level, and my hope is that, here and from now on, I will do better about staying true to them and not just writing one-dimensional oversimplifications of their characters.

Next chapter will probably be a little while out. I know what it's gonna be about, but uh, I don't really know how I want to end it yet, and therefore I don't even have a word count estimate -w-" But hopefully it won't take me another two months kdfgdskjhfgjhbd