A/N:
Hello and welcome to the Wednesday update, dear readers! I hope you enjoyed the Valerie double feature last week, because we're back to switching off POVs. We'll be catching up with Danny today as Team Phantom struggles to make the counter-signal. There are some heavier topics and use of slurs, so please make sure to check the warnings! I did promise more information about that one shot, and I'll tell you during the end notes. That's it for now, I'll see you at the bottom!
Chapter Summary:
Danny has an argument with friends, a meeting with Dash, and an important realization...
Chapter Specific Warnings:
Mild Body Horror, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobia(slur usage)
Chapter Title:
Rupture: A burst, split, or break. ... To burst, break through, or split, as under pressure. ... A social breach or break, between individuals or groups.
Aestuous: Full of passion; agitated.
Awakening: The act of becoming aware of something.
5:15pm; November 20th, 2005; Amity Park
The beeping of the scanner grated against his limited patience. His nose itched ferociously, nerves mocking him with increased signals once he'd been stuck in place on the bed. He stared at the tepid blue of his bedroom wall, willing himself to ignore it a few seconds longer. If he wiggled, they'd have to start from the beginning. The final beep rang out into the room, and he breathed a sigh of frustration. "Please tell me that is the last one."
"Last one for now. We still have to drag a few more scanners up from the basement." Sam tossed the thin rectangle back onto his bed, then leaned down to pick up another, "Whoops, I actually forgot this one."
"No, you didn't," he pleaded.
"Yeah, I think I did," she trailed off, turning the device a few times in her hands, "I don't remember holding this one up until everything below my shoulders screamed." She poked at it until its screen flashed on, pale blue washing out the delicate peach tones in her skin. "Or...we've done so many of these, I'm losing count. This one has your updated signature in it already."
"Told you, I remember the noise it made. You know the—"
"Ugh right, that weird jingle." She tossed that one on his bed as well, joining the pile in the completed scanner graveyard. "One of these has to be useful, they all check different things." She looked over towards Tucker, an exasperated grimace on her face. "Please tell me that last one looked different? I can't feel my fingers anymore."
"Uh…no? Maybe nothing the Fentons have can actually capture the changes. This is supposed to be a micro-wave inside his signature."
"I think," Jazz said, typing with dainty taps on her new laptop keyboard, "we just can't read it in human form. We should wait for mom and dad to go out so you can transform."
"It's not a bad idea. We've tried every scanner in FentonWorks." Tucker's mechanical keyboard clacked away near his desk as the geek saved the last bit of data. "Aren't your parents going out on patrol later this evening? Sam will get a scan then."
"Nuh uh, no way! This time, Jazz is holding up the scanners while I update the Excel spreadsheet."
"Do I get a bathroom break anywhere in there? I've been stuck in one place the last four hours." He itched a few places that joined his nose the second he'd relieved the sensation. He carefully stood up and shook out his legs, feeling the blood return to everything below his knees. "Oh, I should've gotten up ages ago, now my toes tingle."
"Maybe we should take breaks every two hours to avoid deep vein thrombosis," Jazz offered.
"Danny sits on his ass longer than that to play Doom . He's fine," Sam dismissed from the ground, checking under his bed for more machines. "I hope nothing got kicked under there. If it did, it's not coming back. When was the last time you dusted down here?"
"Dusted? I'd have to move the bed to do that."
"Everyone knows that the floor under the bed belongs to the gnomes. It's how you give them sacrifices so they don't eat your homework or your favorite socks."
"There are no closet or under-the-bed gnomes that protect your electronics from getting lost on your messy bedroom floor."
"Yes there are! I feed mine all the time, and that's why my stuff never gets lost, but yours and Danny's does."
"Dude, there are actual supernatural things that exist, and you want to defend bedroom gnomes?"
"I named mine Franklin and Ross. They eat corn chips."
"You can't just leave corn chips on your floor! You're gonna deep-fry your mom's vacuum."
"Oh, she gave up cleaning in there around the start of middle school. Now there's nothing between me and the offerings to the gnome boys to protect my homework and devices. Besides, we just learned curses and 'liminal objects' were real. How do you know that house gnomes aren't real?"
"Myths about Brownies who help clean, protect kitchens, and like offerings exist all throughout medieval Europe," Jazz added from her spot next to Tucker.
"Those were probably blob ghosts," Sam retorted.
"Then how do you know Frankie and Roro aren't blob ghosts who live under the clothes in my closet?"
"Because you've been leaving them chip offerings since before the portal opened!"
"If it is blob ghosts, that would explain them eating corn chips as an offering. Those little guys love nachos and french fries." He stacked the scanners into a precarious looking pile, balancing the tech Jenga with practiced ease. "Maybe I'll start leaving some french fries to lure in my own little Frankie."
"Mom will make you clean the whole house again if she finds more molded fries in a corner of your room, Danny." Jazz shut her laptop, and placed it on his desk on the other side of Tucker's. "Besides, there's no way some blob ghosts could live inside FentonWorks without being caught. We have too many scanners and shields." He watched her narrow her eyes, "Have you seen blob ghosts in the house?"
"I've seen lots of ghosts fly out of the portal and exit our house. I don't see any reason why I can't keep a small collection of them in my closet."
"Danny," she tried, and failed, to stifle a few giggles, "is this how you tell me you've got some new ghost pets living under the clothes tornado in your closet?"
"The only new pet Danny's gotten lately is that eel. Didn't you name it?" Sam looked down at her phone, and tapped something for a few seconds. "Sorry, my parents want to know if I'll be home for dinner."
"Ohm's nice, but it isn't my personal no-more-lost-objects protection squad. Plus, it'd try to eat every bit of electricity in the house. It'd be cute to keep around, though."
"Didn't it shock you the first time you met?"
"Sure, but that's just because Valerie upset it." Danny jumped up and walked towards his room door, "I want snacks before it gets any later, and we get banned from the kitchen before dinner. If you guys wanna miss out, you can stay up here, though!" he opened the door and raced towards the stairs. He hit the bottom of the stairs just as he heard his friends starting at the top.
"Where are you going so fast, Danno?" Jack asked from the couch.
Damn, there goes grabbing those Cool And Hots. "Uh, we were going to get some study snacks?" He watched his dad look over at the clock and then back to him. Fifty fifty chance he lets me get away with this.
" Well, it is a little close to dinner, so you better hurry before your mom finds out. I won't tell, but she'll be up from the lab in a few minutes." His good-natured grin helped shake off the last of the twinges of poor mood from being stuck upstairs since right after lunch.
"Thanks, dad, we'll be quick and sneaky."
"No problem. I know how much thinking works up an appetite." He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, switching it the local news channel. Not wanting to risk his mom's wrath, Danny passed off their selection of snacks, still in the family-sized bags, after Sam and Tucker made it downstairs. There was still a chance she'd notice the bags missing from the pantry, but they would have divvied up their portions by then. "How's studying going kids?"
"We're almost through the chemistry review and finished math. Now, we just have to start history." They weren't studying, but he really did need to if he was going to pass on Tuesday.
"I know history hasn't been your favorite subject this year, but you're not doing so bad. Your mom was impressed with your paper."
"Really?" He hadn't gotten any feedback beyond a bunch of red X's and underlined areas.
"Oh yeah, she said it was really well researched and structured, you just need to work on your prose. I'm not much of a writer myself, I let your mother do the grant requests, but I thought it was better than my papers in high school." He leaned over on the couch, trying to get a view of the stairs to the basement. "I wonder what's holding up, Maddie?"
"Uh, I'll check?" No sooner had the offer left his lips than the door to the basement slammed shut. "Never mind then…" He shuffled away from the entrance to the stairs, making room for his mom to enter the first floor.
"Maddie, I was just telling Danny how much you liked his last paper!" His dad shot off the couch, crossing the room in a couple steps. "I know you didn't get a chance to, so why don't you give him some more feedback while I get dinner started." He winked as he rounded the corner. Nice. His dad was cool sometimes.
"Thanks, dear, why don't you get the meat out of the fridge and start searing it? It's already marinated, it just needs to be browned before it's set to roast in the oven."
"Can do, babycakes!"
"So, I think you're gotten so much better since last year," she said while sauntering into the living room.
"You didn't leave a lot of written comments."
"That's because I was rushing." She looked up at the first landing where Sam and Tucker were standing, "Are you two staying for dinner?"
"I am." Tucker said, an excited grin on his face. "I heard you were making steaks."
"My parents forgot to tell me we have a guest coming over for a late dinner, so I have to head out soon."
"Ugh, who's the rich pest?"
"One of my dad's friends from finishing school. Yeah, I know, Tuck, I know." She sighed from her spot on the stairs and locked eyes with Danny. "I'll be able to hang for a bit longer, but we'll have to finish tomorrow at study hall."
"I won't forget."
"Oh, this segment is about Red Huntress," his mom cut in, with a note of surprise in her voice. "That's weird, that looks like a new suit. Didn't she just get a new one?"
"Another new one?" He joined her by the couch, eyes drawn to the screen. The picture frozen to the side of the reporter showed Valerie's new suit. The visor was a neon pink, but it was otherwise pitch black. It looked like the whole thing was molded from one solid piece of the night sky. When the report showed another closer shot, he saw the magenta swirls from before cast in glowing relief against the matte depths of the new armor. "That's...kinda fast right? I mean, she just got her new look; what was wrong with the other suit?"
"Maybe she got access to some new tech, Danny." His mom clicked up the volume, letting the reporter's peppy voice fill the living room.
"On top of the brand new winter look, the formerly 'Red' Huntress' suit has shown a variety of new abilities. She's changed shapes, seems to be able to turn invisible, and is much faster in the air. Maybe this latest update gave her some form of 'stealth' powers? We have a recording of her working the skies with her newest piece of fashionable tech. You be the judge, Amity citizens: 'hot new look' or 'a total bomb'."
The screen switched to a video of Valerie piloting over the rooftops of mainstreet, a blur of black against the deep red of the dusk sky. The shot cut out, and in its place was another clip of her firing out lasers, movements stuttering and blurry in the slow frame rate of the camera. A third clip played, this time showing her whole arm transform into a blade, raspberry glow suffusing the armor as it shifted and maintained its new form. Finally, a clip showed her disappearing, a wave going over her form from the bottom up as she vanished.
"Isn't that neat, Kelly?
"I think her new look is a little intimidating and spooky."
"Well, I think it's just to die for. The black is sleek and slimming, and makes her look faster when flying around. I love the inclusion of the little pops of pink, it's so feminine and cute."
The two new hosts for the puff segment continued commenting, as the entire set of clips played again from the beginning. Then, a new set started, showing her fighting some wigglers in a park. Danny felt unease trickle up his spine. Valerie's movements were efficient and brutal, cutting through metal and ripping out bundles of wires. Every time a motion started, she jerked to life like a puppet on a string. It looked unnatural, forced, unlike any of the smooth grace he remembered. Even the way she flies through the air seems wrong. She's completely upright, like a statue cutting through the air. The board molded into the bottom of her feet in one piece. I can't tell where she stopped and it begins . And the pink energy blade! It didn't look like the armor changed. It looked like the bones in her arm molded and squished to make the new shape. The whole series of clips gave him a sick feeling, shudders and goosebumps traveling over his arms. "I'm gonna get back to studying. Sam's the best at history, and she has to leave soon."
"Oh, ok Danny. Dinner will be ready soon, so try to find a good stopping point."
He waved down at his mom as he retreated, heading back into his bedroom. "I hate that new suit. It's worse than the last one."
"Yeah, it definitely looks like it'll be better at murdering things," Tucker commented, hands full of pretzels.
"Not just that, it looks...wrong." He flopped onto his bed, years of practice allowing him to fall over without jostling the pile of objects he'd stacked in another area. "Her movements are all robotic or something. It's like she's being piloted by someone else."
"I don't know. She didn't seem that different to me."
"You're wrong, Sam. The color of it is weird. It's not just black, it's like it's made out of something that eats light. And now it has these weird pink bits on it, but she hates pink. And another thing, did you see that glow when her arm changed shape? That's not normal!"
"It's an update, Danny, maybe it does that now."
"That does explain why she looks like a meat puppet! You guys know that suit comes from Vlad, maybe he did something to her. You know the Fruitloop isn't trustworthy. Two new updates in two months? No way that's harmless."
"I mean, she's the one who continues to work with the guy."
"Jazz—"
"No, really Danny. She already knows he's a half-ghost and evil. If she still wants to get stuff from him, she must not be too worried."
"It's not that simple. When it comes to Vlad, nothing is! The last time we texted, he'd promised to get her dad his old job back, and helped get them current on the rent. She can't just cut him off."
"He paid their rent?" Sam asked.
"She was cagey about where the money came from when we texted, which means it came from Vlad. She needs him because he's dangling her family's financial security over her head. It's not like she trusts the asshole."
"Still, if she was having trouble with her suit, why not ask Tucker, or her dad for that matter? For all we know, this is the best in ghost hunting technology. You know how much she loves blasting ghosts."
"She doesn't blast me."
"She hasn't fired at you lately , but whether she does or not seems to depend on her mood."
"She hasn't fired at me since I helped rescue Ellie, and we have a truce now. That's completely beside the point of her suit being off."
"Dude, why are you so worried?" Tucker asked, munching on Cool and Hots this time.
"Because it was malfunctioning when I saw it on Friday. Badly. Her suit's bugging out, we get into a fight, then she shows up with a brand new one? She must have visited Vlad for him to 'fix it', and I bet he put some new shit in there along the way."
"You got into a fight?"
"Not a fist fight, Jazz, an argument, about her getting her suit repaired."
"Oh, so that's why you think Vlad's involved. Danny, if she did take it to Vlad, that doesn't make it your fault for suggesting repairs. She has other options. She's got my number, even if she acts like she's lost it half the time." Tucker sounded really hurt about that.
"She's just busy."
" You're busy. She clearly didn't feel like she needed my help, or yours, and trusted Vlad's little update more than either of us."
"We don't know she went to Vlad for an update…."
" You were the one arguing she did. What is your problem?" Sam shoved her phone back in her pocket before a loud buzz came from it once more. "Holy shit mom, I'm twenty minutes away, and dinner is in an hour and a half! If you don't leave me the fuck alone, I swear I'm running away from home."
"You always say that, Sam. But, she's right, Danny, you were the one insisting Vlad's responsible for her 'weird' new upgrade." Tucker munched on a few more pretzels while poking away at his PDA.
"I just... feel like something's wrong."
"Why? Because she blew you off, and you don't like her new fashion choices?" Sam ignored another buzz from her phone.
"Because—because… God, I can't be the only one who thought her fighting forms looked wrong . You've seen her fight dozens of times."
"Yeah, fighting you."
"Fucking focus! It's not just that she looked startled or not warmed up, it didn't even look like her ."
"Don't yell at us just because you're upset Valerie wouldn't let you take up all the patrols this weekend."
"That's not—"
"That's totally the reason."
" No , it isn't Sam. Besides, you didn't hear how she sounded. You thought I sounded bad before I got over Whispering Panic? Well, she sounded worse. Of course she did, everything went to shit all weekend when I was on vacation."
"Sick leave, not a vacation."
"Whatever! My point is this doesn't add up."
"It squares just fine. You just want it not to, so you can fly out there and go play rescuer. Is the thought she's in serious peril more enjoyable to you than her getting annoyed by your clinginess?"
"I have not been clingy!"
"Every time we're on the phones, and she's there, you're anxiously fretting about if she's in danger or hurt."
" She's human; I'm a half-ghost!"
"She has a super suit, a brand new one, actually. She doesn't need you to play hero." Sam grabbed her backpack off the floor, preparing to leave.
"Oh, so I'm just playing hero now?"
"I'm not doing this with you!"
"How often would you say you worry about Valerie's safety?"
"Fuck no Jazz, you are not psychoanalyzing me."
"I'm just asking, because maybe your anxiety levels—"
"Not listening to this bullshit!"
"The only thing that's 'bullshit' is you trying to make an emergency out of nothing. Don't you have enough to worry about?" Sam stood leaning against the door frame to shove her feet back into her combat boots.
"I'm not just coming up with things to worry about."
"Could have fooled me."
He turned to blink at Tucker, realizing the rest of Team Phantom were all on the same side. "Sam…how about I walk you out."
"Kicking me out of your house?"
"You have some rich person schmoozing dinner to go glare your way through while embarrassing your parents. I need some fresh air, so I might as well escort you to the door." He popped off his bed and stomped out of the room, squeezing by Sam in the doorway.
"Wait, Danny—"
"I'll catch up with you later, Jazz." He walked down the steps two at a time, wanting to be free of the smothering tension. "I'm gonna go stretch my legs," he said to his parents in the kitchen as he passed by, "I'll be back by dinner." He opened the door and slammed it behind him, jostling off the dusting of snow on the front porch's awning. Everyone inside was delusional, and he needed a break from their craziness.
An hour's flight around Amity worked out the last of his anger. The reports in his patrol zone flashed the symbol for 'tame tech' he'd come up with, and he'd worked through all but one of them. He floated over the Nasty Burger, refreshing the map again, trying to think of his next move. Dinner would be soon, he had to be back, but he didn't feel like looking at Jazz or Tucker's faces at the moment. He scrubbed his hand through his hair, and picked out what he hoped was the last of Dr. A's plant hair pins. He'd been pulling out one or two after every transformation. He was starting to worry they were growing back somehow.
He sighed and shoved the phone back into a pocket in his suit, no closer to a solution to his problem. He'd go check up on her in person if the last conversation hadn't made it incredibly clear she'd lose it if he contacted her before Friday for less than the entire fleet of new cars downtown coming to life. He had another five days to wait things out, minimum, assuming she didn't cancel because he pissed her off some more in the meantime. His friends and sister might not agree, but he knew what he saw. This new suit was bad news. He scrubbed through his hair again, and pulled out another twig, this time an ordinary one from flying through some trees. "What am I going to do?" He asked the night sky, hoping the low hanging snow laden clouds had any ideas.
"Phantom!" Nope. What he was not going to do was deal with Dash right now. He flew higher, continuing to stare up at the sky with laser focus. "Phantom, can you hear me?" No, he could not. He was too high up and entirely focused on thinking heroic thoughts instead of imagining burning that creepy doll in front of his face. He floated higher, and Dash's voice faded away.
The quiet this far above the city always helped him clear his mind. He pulled out his phone once more, checking the time and looking at the last report in his zone. "Whelp, might as well do that before I'm late for dinner and give my parents an excuse to ground me longer." He'd been in deep shit since returning from Technus' Lair. His parents had brought down the punishment hammer hard . Any time he slipped up, even a little, they reacted like that this year. Ugh, he still had another two weeks to serve.
He floated out of the sky into the middle of the now dead and brown park where he'd blasted his first living lawnmower. The report claimed the wiggler was an electric bike, and promised to meet him at the park. He settled down with an icy crunch, the grass snapping underneath his feet sounding like someone popping bubble wrap. The park's lights flickered as the bulbs inside struggled to respond. The flashing gave the entire area an eerie quality… like the setting to some low budget teen slasher flick. He looked around at the deserted landscape, questioning the report submitter, both their sanity and sense of safety. They could have met some place less sketchy looking.
"Hey, Phantom dude, thanks for coming! Sorry this took a bit, I had to buzz my boyfriend back in because he forgot his keys." He turned to watch some guy in his early twenties, wearing a puffy coat, fight with a bike a few meters away. A few minutes later, and the man was wheeling away in a huff, angry Danny's energy had weakened his wiggler.
"I hope you blow out a tire on that thing and have to keep it locked up in the backyard," Danny muttered. He'd gotten everything he'd needed from the interaction, including confirmation the counter-signal existed and that Americans were just as stubborn and stupid as he and Valerie feared. Maybe she had a point about dragging out all the wigglers and blasting them to bits. Some people lacked the sense God gave a rock.
"Phantom!" Oh my God, could this evening get any shittier? "I checked the map, and this was the last report still active. I hoped I'd catch you here." Dash's forehead gleamed with fresh sweat. "I'm sure you have to head back to the Zone soon, but I wanted to give you this before you did." He held out a sealed Manilla envelope.
"What is that?"
"Right," he slapped his forehead, "stupid me. This is the plans for the merchandise line. I had my mom's friend type up a launch plan. I worked up a whole ad campaign with a run of commercials on TV, and I even printed out the documents you'll need to trademark your insignia." He scrunched up his face in thought for a moment, before continuing, "I'm not sure you can legally sign them as a dead person, but we'll argue it in court later. That's what my dad's fancy lawyer friends are for!" Why the fuck couldn't he be this diligent about mathinstead of kicking my ass for failing?
"Uh, I only know what some of that is?"
"Hahaha yeah, me too, but don't worry! Ms. Avery is really smart, and really nice. She's a big fan of your work. She owns this big Advertising Agency with offices in Detroit and Chicago and New York, but my mom called her on Wednesday and they did a 'girls brunch' to talk over all the details." He waved the envelope around, explaining everything with more animated energy than he'd seen from him about any subject unrelated to balls. "She thinks we're sitting on a goldmine of untapped potential. Sure, we're gonna have to go against the government's messaging, but they have limited, uh, 'market penetration'." He'd said the phrase like he'd borrowed it, likely from Ms. Avery. "Since you're so popular in Amity, you'll go over well as an American homegrown hero. And since you're so handsome, you'll be hella photogenic for all of the print ads and TV commercials." Dash swept some of his sweat soaked bangs off of his forehead and back into place. "Then, we can set up an organic internet campaign using social media, and we should be able to win over other teens in no time. Goths and the geeky types are an easy sell, but I'm sure once other jocks can see your fighting in action, they'll love you too." Dash just kept gushing , more excited with every passing second. How could he stop him?
"That all sounds neat, but maybe let me look at in writing?" He held out his hand for the envelope, already regretting his sentence. If he looked at the stupid packet, and got this over with, he could blow off Dash and still make it home for dinner. "I'm only gonna have a chance to skim this right now; I gotta get going." He opened the envelope and unfolded the group of papers. Each section was labeled, with colored tabs and staples holding it together. There were numbers on the bottom of each page, there were clear headings, hell, even the texture of the paper was pleasant. This was more effort than Dash ever put into his English homework or history papers. He'd thought he was a disorganized idiot, but instead he was just lazy. Maybe not lazy, he thought, paging through each section with a quick glance, just completely aware of where he needs to exert effort. Why bother trying in class when he could beat up some 'nerd' or sweet talk the teachers? Instead, he could spend all his free time on the forums bullying people, or practicing his stupid fucking state winning spiral. He flipped to the last section, looking at the lighter, more decorated paper with surprise. The other sections were printed on heavy card stock to handle the ink for the advertising proposal, but this looked like stationary. He rearranged the bundle of pages in his hands to get a closer look at it. He skimmed over the first bit, and then stopped and started again, reading slowly from the top.
"This letter isn't a part of the advertising package, it's a message just from me. I know we've barely talked, I've only seen you from afar, fighting ghosts and protecting the town, but I didn't feel right handling over an impersonal package of boring legal and marketing nonsense without explaining why I care so much. I hope, after you've heard me out, you'll understand a little more how ordinary people see you; how I see you.
To my hero, Danny Phantom:
…"
The letter continued in that fashion, with Dash pouring his heart out in every line. He'd handwritten it. S lowly . He'd seen Dash scribble notes in class. He didn't know the quarterback could write this neatly. After the opening, he'd started by listing off his accomplishments, praising how "badass" he was in battle, or thanking him for saving them from the ghost who pulled them into the Zone. Reading about his overwhelming admiration made him want to puke. Dash hated him, when he was human, so reading fanatic praise for Phantom was disorienting. This was like holding the plush, but one hundred times worse. He considered just shoving the letter away, and taking off, but he couldn't stop reading it. In some perverse way, he wanted to know just how intensely the other boy liked Phantom to compare to his hatred of Fenton. Then, it all went off the rails. Somewhere after the normal shit he'd listed in every forum post and talked about in every conversation he'd overheard at lunch, he'd gotten serious.
"You inspire me every day to be the best version of myself. I want to be stronger, braver, someone my parents and classmates can depend on like Amity depends on you. I wake up every day wondering how you'd handle a situation, and try my hardest to live up to your example. Your smile makes my heart race, and seeing it as you race into battle convinces me everything will be fine, no matter how dire it seemed before you arrived. I don't know who I'd be if you hadn't come to Amity."
Somehow , it kept going, and... Oh...my...God? The entire last section read like the diary from a teen writing about their crush. His gushing about his appearance had crossed the line to "impassioned" a couple paragraphs back, but now he was describing how pretty his eyes looked when they glowed with determination. He scanned the section where it jumped the shark again, trying to piece together how it got to the end. Another quick look didn't reveal this was a pastiche of two different letters, or that he'd meant to address someone else. It just continued spiraling on to the emotional reverent compliments he'd just finished reading.
He finished the letter, and continued staring, brain stuck like a truck in mud, trying to avoid coming to the inevitable conclusion. His mind lurched forward and then back, the inertia of being a conscious being pushing it forward, the fight against the information revealed on the powder blue football decorated stationary pushing it back. He closed his eyes, opened them again. Nope, the letter still existed. The letter existed, and Dash Baxter had written it.
He'd lovingly described his every facial feature and personality trait. He'd claimed to be inspired by him and sometimes see him in his dreams . He'd written two whole detailed personal pages to him… Dash Baxter had a crush on Danny Phantom. The world went hazy at the edges as his personal understanding of it tried it to force this new piece of information to connect with the rest. It stuttered, wrestled, tried to push it away, before it finally settled into place.
The guy who'd been bullying him since second grade wanted to ask his ghost half on a date. He reshuffled the papers around, trying to buy more time to think. Dash had seen him read his whole note; he had to say something! What could he even say? Even his emotional response to the revelation was buffering with the rest of his brain cells, trapped in 'Dash like likes you' hell like a third-grader tormented by their peers.
"Did...you read my fan letter?" Oh, shit. He sounds so...vulnerable? Nervous? Normal? Since when did Dash, King of Bullies, sound like one of the regulars haunting Casper's halls?
"I did…" He spun the envelope in his hands, trying to think how to continue. Honesty was all he could come up with. "It was very flattering." It definitely was written to flatter him. "I appreciate the compliments, but I can't really reciprocate." Dash laughed, somewhere between nervous and relieved.
"Of course not, Phantom, you don't know me well enough to give me any compliments."
"That's...not the part I was talking about?" He sighed and floated down closer to the other teen, tucking the papers under one arm. "I meant the—um—romantic feelings, the stuff at the end of the letter. It's really sweet, but—"
"What are you talking about?" He looked confused, maybe even a little perturbed, "I didn't write any gay shit in there."
"Uh." He looked back at the envelope quickly, wondering if he'd misunderstood something. No. No one described wanting to run their fingers through someone else's hair out of admiration . "You talked about petting my hair, you described how pretty my eyes are, you even said you dream about me."
"Everyone dreams about their heroes."
"Dash—"
"You remember my name?" The delighted tone of his voice and dilated pupils did not help his claims about his feelings being platonic.
"We've talked before, that's not really the point... I'm trying to say, really nicely, that I'm flattered you like me like that, but I'm not interested. It's not because you're another guy, I don't—" Dash's puppy dog eyes did worse than sink, his face started to remind him of the sneer he wore whenever they met inside Casper.
"Why do you keep bringing up homo feelings, man?"
"Did you actually write this?"
"Of course, I'd never let anyone else do it for me; it's too important!" He was beginning to feel a headache building in the back of his skull, the same place Dash kicked him when the footballer felt particularly rancorous.
"I guess I just...misinterpreted something?"
"Damn right, I'm not some faggot."
"Wow, ok! That's uh, wow…" he backed away slowly, taking in the reddening color to Dash's neck that always signaled a bad time.
"You, you're not like one of them...you know, you're not gay. You're cool, cooler than I am… way better than me."
"Dash—"
"I know you'd never do something weird like that, I don't know why I ever thought that for a second. I must have... I didn't do a good job writing the letter." He'd started pacing, looking some combination of lost and worried. How had this conversation gone so far off the rails?
"The letter was great! I just—I am a ghost. Maybe stuff changed after I died."
"Oh, right! You probably bit it when dudes were manly and stoic. Reading all that emotional shit probably sounded like it was written by some fag. That's my bad dude." He needed to escape. He needed to get away from him as quickly as possible.
"I get it now, don't worry. Thanks for all the info." He shot up a couple meters, putting glorious space between him and Dash.
"Have a good one, Phantom! Hope we can catch up later to talk about the merch line!" Dash waved as he turned to leave. He didn't wave back, zooming away as fast as he could fly.
He'd transformed a block away, as customary, and stood in the middle of the sidewalk, gulping down winter air. He sank to the ground, slow and even, squatting down on the side farthest from the street. He still had ten minutes to get home. He leaned back against the bark of the biggest tree in the neighborhood, hoping the feeling of the rough material would help ground him. Dash spends all his time on the forum calling everyone else homophobic slurs. What the hell was I thinking, almost telling him… He didn't have a death wish, really, despite his sister's theories to the contrary about ghost psychology interfering with the human drive to live. He'd just thought, for a second, the two of them had common ground. Maybe they still did, but he had no interest in pressing his luck on the subject now.
He pushed back against the tree, feeling the individual sections of bark dig in, and just breathed. Dash didn't know he was Phantom. Dash still thought Phantom was the paragon of rugged American masculinity and heterosexuality. Nothing had changed, except getting the wildest love letter of his life. He was still safe. Well, as safe as the half-dead hero of a town perpetually assaulted by powerful beings from another dimension could be anyway. He pushed off the tree and started heading towards home, mood slowly lightening as he remembered individual lines in Dash's letter.
How the fuck did he write something like that and still think he was straight? He didn't even notice the exact angle of his jawline or the way the wind blew in his hair. That last paragraph was so torrid, it was a few paragraphs away from some fantasy involving bending me over something. That made him chuckle, and he pulled out his phone to text his parents he'd be there in five minutes. His dad texted back, telling him he'd start making his plate. He could taste the gravy and potatoes already.
He tossed his phone up and down, thinking back on Dash's forum posts now. The dude spent all day defending his honor and talking about how great he was, but he didn't have a crush. He spent every lunch hour gushing about him to his friends, but he didn't have a crush. He worried about him during every fight, acted like a yapping puppy during their brief interactions, complimented him all the time, and wanted to practically breathe in his every exhale, but it wasn't a crush! He walked up the front steps. If Dash can have dreams about me, want to touch my hair and run his hands over my jumpsuit, and claim not to have a crush, he must be denser than a black hole. That last thought bugged him for some reason, gnawing at something in his mind.
He kicked off his shoes and shucked off his jacket, tossing the packet of papers onto the living room table, and heading for the bathroom upstairs to wash up for dinner. There was something familiar about the other boy's behavior. He kept turning it in his mind, trying to trace the loose thread back to the beginning of the thought. He washed his hands, and then headed back downstairs, still puzzling. "Hey mom, hi dad, that looks awesome." He felt his mouth watering at the smell of the still sizzling steak. He'd been getting back on time more often, but hot fresh dinners were still irregular. "Where's Jazz and Tucker?"
"I'm right here, little brother, Tucker went home." She finished coming down the stairs, heading for her spot at the table. "I'm surprised you're back on time."
"Harsh, I've gotten better lately." He picked up his fork, still trying to worry at the Dash shaped stone with the red string attached to it. "I've eaten Sunday dinner with you every time this month."
"You did...kind of not used to it."
"I know, and I'm sorry about that. I think that's the fifth time I've apologized?"
"You've been doing that less lately, since your behavior's been so much better." His mom handed him a glass of cranberry-mango juice they'd gotten from the store yesterday. "I can really tell the effort you've put in lately at school and here. I know you're still grounded because you stayed out all night last week, but that's the only time you've been out past midnight since the school year started. I wish you'd tell us where you really went."
"I really did just fall asleep at the park."
"It's ten below outside. Your jacket is not that warm," she noted. "Your father and I just wish you could be more honest with us." He looked up, taking in the way his parents' eyes twinkled whenever they looked at each other, and felt a growing sense of disorientation. He tugged at the red thread in his mind, following it closer to its source.
"I'm trying to be, mom." He took a bite of his steak, enjoying the crispy char on the surface of his and the flavor of the citrus and thyme in the marinade. He grabbed a forkful of potatoes next, chewing it as the feeling of looming epiphany grew. "I've been honest with you this year." He could tell she didn't believe him.
"He's been much better in school, Maddie, that has to count for something." His dad tossed out.
"Be that as it may, your punishment still stands. You can go back to playing video games and hitting up the arcade in December." She took a quick swig of her juice, and Danny found his mind wandering again. The way the light highlighted the color in the glass reminded him of the red on Valerie's previous suit.
Valerie. His thoughts caught on her name, and he froze. He spooled up the last few inches of the red string in his mind and found her at the other end. Valerie is what Dash reminds me of...no. The way I think about Valerie reminds me of Dash. It reminds me of his letter, and his excited forum posts, and the way he gets furious the second someone insults Phantom, and … Oh. Oh.
He reached into his pocket for his phone, silently typing out a text by memory of the letters. "I think I have a crush on Val!" He sent it off without thinking, used to sending Jazz his emotional conclusions on impulse as a sounding board, before he realized what he'd typed. The phone in her purse buzzed, and she answered it at the dinner table. Their parents trusted her not to abuse it. He quickly typed another message. "nvr mnd! Some1 stole my phone!" It set off, traveling through the family's wireless data plan, before it buzzed Jazz's phone once more. This time she did look at him like he'd hit his head. She could see his hand in his pocket. "I am possezzed!" He shot that one off even faster.
"I'll have to leave to help Darren with his math homework right after dinner. He's really struggling." She put away her phone and turned back to her food.
"It's really nice how much you tutor everyone, Jazzypants."
"Oh, you know, I'm always available for advice." She shot him a look, and went back to her meal. How the fuck had he made this worse? Another escape was required. He finished off his supper and pushed in his chair. He made a stop in the living room to grab the treacherous packet, before heading for his bedroom with promises to finish studying. No sooner had he closed his room door, than his phone buzzed.
"I'm not sure why you think this is news. Did you just figure that out after going on a date with her?"
"I don't mean the old crush; I mean a new one."
"Danny, it's the same crush."
"That's...probably true, but I thought it went away!"
"Hmmmm, you are the only person who thought this. What brought on this sudden realization?"
"That's not important, actually, forget I ever told you this."
"My memory's a steel trap, Danny, but so is my mouth. I won't tell anyone about your very super secret feelings no one could guess."
"Thanks Jazz, bye!"
"We still need to talk about that argument earlier."
No, they did not. They could just ignore it and move on. In fact, ignoring his feelings sounded like the best course of action. He wasn't talking about it with Jazz. He wouldn't talk about it with his friends. He was certainly not telling Valerie. His feelings couldn't hurt him or cause any more trouble as long as he kept his mouth shut and focused on not letting them affect his judgment. This was fine, better than fine. It was better than the lead weight of paper documents he'd gotten from Dash.
He tossed the papers onto his floor, willing the bedroom gnomes to make it disappear before the morning, and sat down on his desk chair. He was going to do his homework, squish down his embarrassment at confessing to Jazz, and be productive.
A/N:
Welcome to the bottom, dear readers! Looks like Danny just had an epiphany about something important. I wonder how it will change things going forward?
Now for that bit about the one shot:
Adoration of the Abyss is a Siren!AU I've been working on recently. No plans to expand it just yet, but the ideas are interesting to me, so maybe for IB next year or later on this year if I get possessed by the writing muse. I actually have a preview of it posted on my blog right now! You can find that post—and posts about Lore, Meta, future chapter excerpts, and more—on my art Tumblr.
Blog: balshumetsbaragouin . tumblr . com
I'll see you on Saturday!
