Ugh, sorry, I know this one took forever. My immediate knee-jerk Wes hype has sort of died down, so even though I'm just as into the Phandom as before, I am once again finding it easier to get distracted and sidetracked by other things. As such, I will still definitely be updating, but chapters may or may not continue to take longer to update. I have tons of ideas still, and therefore I don't plan to drop this story any time soon.

Monday's first period was extraordinarily boring. With Christmas break being only a couple weeks away, Mr. Lancer had decided to be lenient with the class. Rather than giving the students a hefty exam, he had opted to instead offer a series of smaller assignments. On one hand, that meant there wasn't a huge project to prepare for before the break. On the other, the sheer number of droning lectures was a nightmare to sit through.

Wes was having a particularly difficult time focusing, his eyes blinking out of sync as he struggled to follow the teacher's lesson. He'd spent a majority of the night before attempting to control the path of his electrical current to form patterns on his skin. It had been a fruitless endeavor, but an intriguing one, keeping him up until the wee hours of the morning. As such, it was all he could do to keep Lancer's scribbles from blurring into a string of garbled nonsense.

At the very least, Wes was hardly the only student in such a state. Most of the class was having trouble staying awake, with a few having given up the battle entirely. The fact that he was, somehow, one of the most lucid teens in the room made him feel marginally better.

Which, unfortunately, proved to be something of a dilemma.

Unbidden, Wes's nose began to itch, then tingle. He sniffed and wrinkled it to alleviate the feeling, but it only grew steadily worse. With a growing sense of dread, he realized that he had to sneeze. Which wasn't a problem in and of itself, but the room was far too quiet, the only sounds being a student snoring in the back of the class, and Lancer's quiet and oddly soothing voice as he explained the meaning behind a literary quote Wes hadn't paid attention to. If he sneezed then, there was no way he wouldn't draw attention to himself. Sneezing in a quiet classroom was just about the most mortifying thing one could do, and Wes knew that there would be no stopping this one.

He sucked in a breath, and then another. His head reared back, and with a powerful kick, he sneezed. "AH-CHOO!"

The entire classroom lit up with blinding white light. It only lasted the duration of the sneeze, but any student that was still awake was left blinking away stars, and those that weren't had been instantly roused. Everyone stared. Wes sniffed once, and then gasped, fingers tightly gripping the edge of his desk. Glancing about, his eyes met Danny's, and he looked just as alarmed as Wes felt. Should he escape? There was no way nobody had noticed. They all had to know he was a ghost now. Which form was he in? Would he ever be able to show his face again?

Mr. Lancer was looking over his shoulder, chalk halfway raised against the board. He looked at Wes with an expression of barely disguised irritation. Wes gulped. "...American Gods, Mister Weston, what have I told you about using your camera in class?"

Wes blinked, wondering if he could actually be this lucky. "...Um... Not to do it?"

"And you didn't even have the courtesy of leaving the flash off," Lancer tutted, shaking his head. "Detention. One hour, after school."

"Oh, come on," whined Wes, but really, he couldn't be bothered to be too upset. Sure, it meant he had to miss basketball practice, but he definitely preferred that to revealing his secret identity because of a sneeze. That would have been a humiliating way to go.

The rest of the school day went by slowly. Wes began to wake up more as the day progressed, and worked a nap in during his lunch, despite whatever protests Danny might have made. Eventually the day drew to a close, and Wes sat quietly in Mr. Falluca's empty classroom, browsing forums on his phone while the teacher left to print out worksheets for the following week. A few minutes later, in trudged Danny, slumping in the seat next to Wes's. "Slept through a test," he said without waiting for the question.

Wes snorted, indicating that he'd heard. It was true that Casper had its fair share of problem students, and in some ways Danny could be considered one of them. But as far as Wes knew, Danny had never done anything to cause any actual trouble. Nothing that warranted the sheer number of detentions he earned, anyway. It was as if the whole faculty had it out for him. "Seriously? They couldn't let you fail and be done with it? Way to rub it in."

"No kidding," Danny grunted. "And what about you? You're here because a camera flash went off." He made air quotes around "camera flash." "You should be more careful about that, by the way. But seriously. Detention?"

"I know!" Wes exclaimed. "And did you see how snooty he was? 'American Gods, Mister Weston, what... have I told you... about...'" He trailed off in the middle of his impression, and Danny stared, stunned. Neither of them could believe what they'd heard.

Because Wes sounded almost exactly like Mr. Lancer.

There was a pregnant pause, and then they both burst out laughing, Danny with a high-pitched cackle, and Wes with a nasally wheeze. "Jeez, Wes, I didn't know you were that good at impersonations," Danny gasped, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Neither did I," Wes chuckled. "Life of Pi, I think I've stolen his identity!" Danny laughed all over again, bending over the desk as he struggled to contain himself. "Look at me, I'm Mr. Lancer! I barely make minimum wage, and if I have to be miserable, then so does everyone else!"

The two roared with laughter as Wes blurted out increasingly absurd things in the teacher's voice. But after some time, they both managed to settle down. "Alright, I think that's enough," said Wes, still grinning from ear to ear. "I don't know what the chances are of him coming in and hearing this, but I don't really want a longer detention than I already have." He hummed, and then frowned.

Danny quirked a brow. "Then why are you still impersonating him?"

"...I don't... I don't think I can stop."

"...What do you mean you don't think you can stop?"

"I mean I'm stuck!" Wes exclaimed. "My voice won't go back to normal!"

"What? How can you be stuck doing a voice impression?"

"I don't know!" cried Wes. "I'm trying to fix it, but it won't go back!" He sucked in a nervous breath. "...This isn't ghost-related, is it?"

"Ugh, I hope not," Danny groaned. "A new power surfacing, right at the start of the school week, and you have no idea how to control it? This is seriously the last thing we need right now." He gasped, the air in front of him chilling, and at the same time Wes shuddered. "...And so is that."

Danny jumped on top of the desk, taking to the air and transforming in one fluid motion. Wes stood to join him, but Danny held out a hand to stop him. "Oh, no you don't. You're staying right here."

"What?! But I'm able to fight now," Wes whined.

"No, you're able to fight Skulker," Danny countered. "We don't know who this is yet, so you're staying here, where it's safer."

Wes groaned, but he threw himself back into his seat while Danny flew off to take care of the threat. Wes cupped his cheek in his hand, nose scrunching indignantly. "You're staying here, where it's safer," he mocked. Then he slammed his forehead against the table when he realized he now sounded like the teen he was mimicking. "Ugh, great."

{(O)}

Nothing got better the following day. Wes stayed quiet all throughout first and second period, and simply muttered responses when called on for third. It wasn't until lunch that Danny, Sam, and Tucker got the opportunity to check in on him. "So what's this I hear about you roasting Lancer?" Tucker inquired.

Wes cradled his forehead against steepled fingers, staring forlornly at his sad excuse for a school lunch through the gap between his arms. When he spoke, it was with the voice of some notorious television chef. "Got stuck with his voice yesterday. Now I'm stuck with this one."

"Is that Gourd Ramsheep?" asked Danny, unable to resist an amused smirk.

"It's fun to yell things with his accent," Wes argued weakly, huffing irritably. "It seems like I can do just about every voice except my own."

"Oh! Oh! Can you do Sam's?" Tucker requested, practically bouncing in his seat.

Wes gulped, casting a nervous glance at the girl in question. But the goth simply quirked a brow, voice daring. "Oh, no, no, go ahead. I would love to hear how I sound to you."

Wes looked to Danny for help, but his friend only shrugged, while next to him Tucker was eagerly gesturing for him to go ahead. He really didn't want to. Out of the group, Sam was the one who liked him the least, and she also happened to be the most intimidating. The last thing he wanted was to risk offending her, but based on Danny and Tucker's obviously piqued interest, he wasn't getting out of it. He sighed, clearing his throat to stall for time as he thought of what the least offensive thing he could say would be. Sam was an activist, right? So maybe something to do with that?

The teen swallowed thickly, and he felt something in his throat shift as he willed himself to take on this new voice. He opened his mouth, and spoke in a monotone quite similar to Sam's. "You better not tread on me. These soles are four inches thick, and I'm not afraid to tread back." The trio all glanced at each other without a word, then back at Wes. He could feel himself sweat. "...What? I couldn't think of anything better."

"...Nah, I'd say that was pretty spot-on," said Tucker.

"I would deduct points for the circumstantial moral ambiguity behind the 'don't tread on me' statement," Sam added, "but otherwise, that almost sounds like something I might say." Despite the criticism, she crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat, evidently satisfied. Wes sighed in relief.

"Okay, now do Tetslaff," Danny urged.

Wes rolled his eyes, but smirked, somewhat amused by this game. He sucked in a breath, and barked, "What are you kids doing stuffing your faces?! Quit lollygagging and get back to the field!"

"Oh man, too real, dude," Tucker said, but he was shaking with silent laughter, arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"The question is, can you do the mayor?" asked Sam with a small smile of her own.

"Why, of course," Wes replied in a deep, refined droll. "Don't mind me, I'll just be doing something blatantly and highly illegal while I sip this fancy tea paid for with your tax dollars, and nibble on the most exotic cheeses money can buy."

By then, the entire group was cackling at Wes's various impressions. Danny wiped a stray tear from his eye, grinning from ear to ear. "Whew. That one was scary accurate. Even without this whole mimicry thing you've got going on, you're weirdly good at this."

Slowly, the smile dropped from Wes's face, turning into something forlorn. He propped his elbows up on the table, cupping his chin in his hands. "...Yeah, well. It would be nice if I could just choose not to be. It feels like I can mimic just about any voice I want except mine."

"...Did you try?" asked Tucker.

"What are you talking about?" Wes groused. "I can't mimic my own voice. It's my voice. It should go back to normal eventually, right?"

Sam, Tucker, and Danny all shared a look, something silently passing between them. "You think he's overthinking things again?" Sam suggested.

"I dunno, it seems more like he's underthinking this time, if you ask me," Danny replied.

"Underthinking what?" Wes demanded with a groan. "Ugh, don't tell me this is gonna be one of those 'obvious in hindsight' solutions."

"Dude. Just do an impression of yourself," Tucker told him. "It's worked for every other voice you've tried, right? Maybe you can't just let it go back to normal. Maybe you've gotta make it go back."

"...That sounds way too easy," Wes said after a short pause. And lo and behold, it wasn't Vlad's voice that came out, or a teacher's, or a television show host's, but his own. He let his forehead hit the table, moaning loudly. "...It was actually that easy..."

"Ehhh, you're not quite there," Danny told him, rocking his hand from side to side. "You usually squeak when you're upset about something."

"I do not squeak," Wes barked, his voice briefly cracking.

"There it is."

Wes opened his mouth for an angry retort, but Tucker beat him to it. "Hey, at least now you know what to do if it happens again. Plus you have a neat new party trick."

Wes clamped his mouth shut, instead humming thoughtfully. Slowly, a mischievous smile crept onto his face, hands rubbing together. Tucker was right.

{(O)}

Danny opened his locker Wednesday morning, tossing his backpack inside. He yawned tiredly, hand cupping his mouth. It just figured that a ghost would attack the neighborhood in the middle of the night, and of course it was Johnny and Kitty, having apparently gotten back together, again. He'd spent half the night chasing them around town before he was finally able to catch them, and was only able to get a couple hours of rest before his alarm woke him up. He moaned, debating whether it was worth bringing a textbook to class to hide behind, or if he just didn't care about openly sleeping.

HONK!

Danny practically jumped out of his skin, his head hitting the top of his locker at the sound of what had to be a car horn right next to his ear. He whirled around, and was met with Wes, doubled over and laughing his head off. "Oh, man! You should see the look on your face!" he cackled.

"W...Wes? What are you doing, what was that?!" Danny demanded, rubbing his sore noggin.

"A car horn!" Wes replied happily. So Danny had been right. He opened his mouth to ask how Wes had pulled it off, but the jock was already explaining. "Apparently I can do more than just mimic voices. It works for sounds, too! See?" He sucked in a breath, bared his teeth, and roared, lip curled in a snarl. Danny realized, blinking in astonishment, that it sounded almost exactly like the lion in the logo that preceded a lot of older movies.

"Okay that's fantastic, but keep it down, someone will hear you!" Danny warned him, hands making a downwards pushing motion.

Wes cackled. "Alright, alright, I know. But imagine all the cool stuff I'll be able to do with this! Maybe I can be a... a... a master of diversion and espionage!"

Danny couldn't help but be amused by Wes's enthusiasm. It was almost sort of endearing. "Or, you could be fantastic prank bait."

"...Or maybe, I can go in the woods and attract a Bigfoot!" Wes added excitedly.

"Bigfoot?" Danny repeated. "...Wes, Bigfoot doesn't even exist."

"You don't know that," the jock pouted. "Just because you haven't seen one, doesn't mean they aren't real. Besides, ghosts and vampires exist, so why not Bigfoot?"

"...But vampires don't-"

Right then, the bell signalling the start of the first class of the day rang. They were officially late. "Crap, I gotta go!" Wes declared. He turned on his heel and sprinted down the hallway, skidding to a stop next to his classroom and darting inside.

With no real sense of urgency, Danny huffed a laugh, following after Wes at a more leisurely pace. The guy never seemed to run out of things to be excited about, did he. "Pfft, what a dork."

The next chapter will be kinda-but-not-really filler, more of a silly little concept I've been toying with the idea of but hadn't found an appropriate way to address yet. But after that, I intend to do another action chapter. Woot!