BUCKLE UP KIDDOS CUZ THIS IS KINDA GAY

Throughout Thanksgiving break, Wes continued to visit FentonWorks to improve upon his new power. Some days Jazz watched over him and Danny, and on others Sam and Tucker supervised them. Through trial and error, they began to work out the intricacies of what Wes had taken to calling the Sap N' Zap. Namely, the fact that he could only absorb electricity through direct contact with the current or a power source, and that his tail was particularly conductive to static. He continued to practice throughout the week, and by the time Saturday came and went, he had enough control that he wouldn't accidentally send off a painful shock whenever he made physical contact... most of the time.

"Alright, I think we're done for the day," Danny grumped, smoothing out his hair that smelled suspiciously burnt. "We'll pick this back up again tomorrow, and hopefully by then you'll have figured out how not to keep doing... this."

"At least it wasn't as bad this time," Wes sniffed, discharging into the rod. To his credit, he remained on his feet, having gotten well used to the routine after a week of on-and-off practice. "But... I actually want to ask you something. About tomorrow."

"Is this gonna be another one of your power theories?" Danny asked. "Because we're lucky we aren't picking lightbulb shards out of our faces from your last bright idea."

"It was a sound theory with poor execution," Wes defended. "But, uh, no. This doesn't have to do with ghost stuff." Danny blinked, but didn't speak, allowing his friend to continue. "Actually, I was wondering if... Well, there's this horror movie that came out in theaters the other day. Sylvival? The one with the bloodsucking, shapeshifting fairies that aren't anything like actual fairies? Uh, I was thinking. Maybe you would wanna go watch that instead of training tomorrow?"

Danny stared at him. "...You mean, just the two of us?"

"Sam and Tucker can come too if they want," Wes quickly stammered out, hands fidgeting. "I just thought, you know. Scary movie. Overpriced soda. Popcorn that's a little stale. But if you want to do something else that's cool too. Or if you just want me to keep training instead."

"Keep training when there's a perfectly terrible scary movie to watch? As if. Which theater is it at?"

Wes kept his face straight, but only barely. "The old-fashioned one downtown. Be there at two?"

Danny nodded. "I'll be there."

This time, Wes didn't hide the smile that stretched across his face.

({O})

Danny arrived at the theater ten minutes early, having just wrapped up his patrol. He landed in the alley next to the building, reverting to human form before walking out in the open, hands in his pockets. He rounded the corner to the theater entrance, where Wes was anxiously shifting foot to foot. He had forgone his usual jersey for a turtleneck and jeans, since the weather was getting increasingly chilly as the year neared its end. Danny honestly hadn't thought he owned any other clothes.

Wes shivered, and then he looked up, his eyes immediately drawn to the teen that was somehow perfectly content to wear short sleeves in fifty degree weather. He craned his neck, as if trying to see past Danny. "Sam and Tucker didn't make it?"

"Turns out they already had plans today," Danny replied with a noncommittal shrug. Wes wasn't sure if he bought the barely-excuse, but he found that he wasn't complaining.

The corners of his lips quirked up. "Sounds like they're gonna miss out. Ready to go in?"

Danny smiled back. "Ready when you are. You get the tickets, and I'll grab the snacks. How buttery do you like your popcorn?"

"Pfft, is that a real question?"

"Completely drenched it is, then."

The two made their way into the theater, taking their seats in the back just as the ads and teasers had finished playing. Once they were seated, Wes pulled several boxes of Skittles and Milk Duds out of his sweater. Danny snorted.

As it turned out, Wes was a very obnoxious movie companion. Sure, Danny and his gang enjoyed pointing out plot holes and making the occasional comment, but Wes felt the need to ask questions about almost every little thing that went on on-screen. Though he ate his candy in moderation, and shared if asked, the popcorn bucket was nearly halfway empty just twenty minutes into the movie. That wasn't even mentioning the way that, without fail, he mimicked every hiss and shriek the fairies made under his breath.

Still, rather than being unbearably annoying, Danny found it oddly, inexplicably endearing.

Almost two hours after going in, the pair came out, blinking in the comparatively harsh sunlight. Wes had not stopped talking since the credits rolled. "See, I knew there was a way to stop the fairies! You trick them the same way they try to trick you! If you're careful with your words, they can't suck out your soul!"

"Kind of a weird approach to a monster movie, but they actually handled it pretty well," Danny said, taking the opportunity to speak while Wes paused to breathe for the first time in at least four minutes.

"It could have been done better," Wes commented. "There were a few times where a fairy should have caught someone but didn't just because of the plot armor. But other than that, yeah, it was pretty good."

"Hey, thanks for taking me to go see it," said Danny. "I had a good time. Now I should probably head home and-"

"Wait, hold on," Wes quickly cut him off. "There's a nickel arcade down the street from here, and I haven't been in forever. We should go check it out."

Danny frowned at the interruption, but he couldn't deny that he was interested. He hadn't been to an arcade in quite a while. And it wasn't like he had any other plans. "...Alright. Let's go, then."

Wes pumped his fist. "Yes! Bet I can get more tickets than you!" He ran off down the street, and Danny shook his head, grinning before running after him.

"Oh, you are so on!"

Wes made it to the arcade first, holding the door open for Danny. The place smelled of cheap plastic and pizza grease, the beeping of consoles and rattling of coins only lending to the nostalgic air of the place. Wes drifted towards the prize counter, scanning the toys and candies for something to strive towards. He ceased his skimming when his eyes landed on something perfect. "...Oh my god."

Danny saw what he was looking at and scowled, groaning. "...No. Absolutely not."

Wes grinned. "You know I have to."

"Not if you don't get enough tickets."

The small Phantom plush sat on a shelf behind the counter, out of reach. It was smiling, plastic green eyes almost taunting as it held a small sign proudly declaring that it was worth 1500 tickets.

"...I can do it. I think I have enough nickels for it."

"If you don't I'm not lending you any," Danny told him.

Wes sniffed, smirking. "Fine by me. I don't need your nickels to rack up enough jackpots."

"You sound pretty confident. Let's see if you can back it up."

And the game was on. Wes immediately booked it to the basketball games, milking each station for all they were worth. Emboldened by his head start, he went for skeeball next, though it was immediately apparent that his penchant for tossing and dribbling did not carry over to rolling. Danny, only entertained for so long by Wes's enthusiasm, waded through the games until he'd found an immersive shooting booth.

The two mostly kept to themselves, occasionally meeting for an air hockey or racing break. By the time they had run out of nickels, each of them had an arm full of tickets, Wes's heap notably larger. "I got every jackpot I could. Think this is enough?"

Danny shrugged. "Guess we'll find out."

The pair went to the ticket converting machine, meticulously feeding their tickets into it before printing out their slips. Danny had accumulated 743 tickets— he had focused more on the shooting and pinball games than the big ticket attractions— and Wes had an impressive 1512 tickets.

"YES!" he cheered. "I have just enough!"

"Wes, I'm begging," Danny moaned. "You can get anything else, but please, not that. Anything but that."

The jock only grinned. "What, embarrassed that there's merch of you and I'm gonna get some?" Danny only moaned louder, which was all the response Wes needed. His grin widened, and he practically swaggered over to the prize counter, leaning his elbow on the glass while the attendant stared tiredly. Wes flicked up the ticket slip, holding it between two fingers. "One small Phantom plush, please. And two Tootsie Rolls for the rest."

The attendant sluggishly made the trade, and Wes held the doll in front of himself, giving Danny the most smug look he could muster. The Halfa could only bury his face in his hands, trying and failing to look like he had no idea who this strange teenager with a children's toy was. "Just... the rocket assembly kit, please..."

The two exited the arcade with their winnings, and Danny was about to say his farewells when Wes spoke. "It's getting kind of late. Before you go, wanna stop by my place for dinner? I live pretty close by."

Danny freed one hand to rub the back of his head. "I don't know. Jazz will probably start to worry if I'm gone too long..."

"Come on, it's no trouble," Wes insisted. "You can always text her. Besides, I make a pretty mean tenderloin."

Danny gave him an inquisitive look. "You can cook?"

Wes shrugged. "Dad works long shifts. I usually make dinner since I'm home first most of the time. But, uh. If tenderloin sounds too fancy-schmancy I can always make you like, a grilled cheese or something."

Danny snorted. "Well. Whatever you make will probably taste better than anything my mom could make. I guess I can stay for dinner, but then I really should get going before my parents start parading the city again."

Wes smiled, and then the two began their trek. They reached the house in a matter of minutes, Wes unlocking the door and stepping aside so that Danny could enter.

The house was about as small on the inside as the outside made it appear. The living room was little in a way that looked more cozy than cramped, with an open doorway to the kitchen on one side, and a short hallway down the other. Down the hall was two bedrooms and a bathroom, as well as what may have been a closet for the washing machine. The kitchen was cluttered, but homely in a way that the dining area at FentonWorks wasn't. The whole place was rather minimal, but seemed just about perfect for two.

Wes migrated to the kitchen, taking a peek in the fridge to ensure that he did indeed have pork. Nodding to himself, he rummaged through the cupboards, thinking out loud as he debated on a side dish. "Hmm, not enough rice for three... Out of potatoes... Not sure if he likes salad... Would cheese crackers be dumb with tenderloin...?"

Danny chuckled, wandering around the living room and inspecting the framed photos and limited decor. "I don't care what you make, as long as it doesn't come to life."

"Don't tell me that's why you didn't want me eating your food," Wes called. When his friend didn't reply, he scoffed. "So your parents can't catch a ghost to save their lives, but they can somehow reanimate their food? I really shouldn't be surprised."

"Hey, that's my mom and dad you're talking about," Danny retorted, but there was no heat behind his words.

Wes was just debating actually pulling out the box of crackers when a car could be heard pulling into the driveway. Moments later, the door opened, and in walked Walter, arms weighed down with bags of groceries. "Wesley, you home?"

"Dad!" Wes cheered, crackers forgotten as he sprinted to the living room, relieving Walter of most of his haul. "Here, let me get that. You're home earlier than I expected!"

"They let me leave early, since it's your birthday today and all," Walter told him. "I also went and grabbed supplies for some chicken alfredo. I know that's your favorite."

"Birthday?" Danny asked.

It was only then that Walter noticed their guest, smiling with pleasant surprise. "Oh, Wesley! I didn't know you were bringing a boy over!"

Wes quickly flushed, mouth opening and closing repeatedly before he managed to stammer out a response. "...No, i-it's... We were just hanging out, and we were already in the area, so I thought I could make dinner before he went home. That's all!"

If Danny noticed Wes's sudden discomfort, he didn't mention it, instead asking a more pressing question. "Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?"

Wes's frown became more shy, and his hands wrung and fidgeted in front of him. "...I didn't want you to feel like you had to get me anything."

Danny shook his head, smirking. "You realize I'm still gonna get you something, right? Because I want to, not because I have to."

"But getting to hang out was the present," Wes squeaked in protest.

"We can hang out pretty much whenever we want," Danny pointed out. "I'm still getting you a gift."

Wes would have argued further, but Walter cut them both off. "Well, you're still welcome to stay until dinner if you like. Donnie, right?"

"Danny, actually," Danny corrected him. "And... sure. If you don't mind."

"Danny, that's right. Not at all. I think there's enough here for three. Wesley, would you like to help me in the kitchen?" Wes nodded, and Walter turned to Danny again. "Feel free to make yourself at home. The bathroom is down the hall, and if you need anything, all you have to do is ask."

"Okay. Thanks, Mr. Weston."

Wes and Walter slaved away in the kitchen, their efforts somehow both frenzied and relaxed. They murmured easily to each other as they worked, elbows almost constantly bumping, though Danny didn't see fit to listen in. He didn't get the impression that they got to spend much time together; the least he could do was give them some semblance of privacy.

Sooner than he would have expected, Walter was giving his son his final instructions. "Wesley, would you mind getting out the plates and silverware?"

"Sure thing, dad," Wes chirped, abandoning his station to rummage through the drawers and cupboards for plates and forks. Once he had procured them, Walter placed heaping helpings on all three plates. Danny couldn't deny that it looked and smelled delicious. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he saw the chicken, noodles, and broccoli that were practically swimming in sauce.

"We don't have a third chair," said Walter, "so I hope you don't mind if we all sit on the couch."

Danny shook his head. "Nope, I don't mind a bit."

The three of them took their seats, with Wes in the middle, and Danny and Walter on either side. Danny took his first bite, and was shocked by the way it practically melted in his mouth. "Woah... You guys seriously made this?"

"Wesley did, mostly," Walter replied, smiling proudly. "I just did the prep work. He's the food connoisseur." Wes blushed, but he was smiling into his food.

"Heh, you guys could probably teach my mom a thing or two," Danny joked, happily taking another bite.

The meal continued for several minutes, the trio sitting in easy silence. It was Walter who broke it, setting down his fork and clearing his throat. "Danny, right? Yes, Danny... I don't think I've ever had the chance to thank you-"

"Daaad," Wes whined.

"Please don't interrupt, Wesley," Walter scolded before focusing once again on their guest. "I never did thank you for saving my son's life."

Danny's current bite sprayed out of his mouth, coating half of the coffee table. He hastily used his paper towel napkin to dab at the mess, eyes darting about as he fumbled for words. "I-I, er, I don't know what you mean."

"...He knows, Danny," Wes admitted, bashfully keeping his eyes glued to his food. He ran an anxious hand through his hair. "I told him a few weeks ago."

"...You told him? I thought you promised to keep it a secret."

"He's my dad," Wes retorted. "You told your friends and your sister about me." Danny frowned, but didn't argue. "...I kind of had to tell him, anyway. He caught me practicing telekinesis in my room."

Danny blinked, the increasingly tense atmosphere breaking. "...Why were you practicing telekinesis?"

Wes shrugged. "Poltergeists are supposed to be able to do it, right? I figured it didn't hurt to try."

Danny stared. "...Wes. Poltergeists aren't real." Wes spluttered, wildly gesturing at Danny. "...It's a different thing!"

"Regardless," Walter cut in, the pair ceasing their bickering, "it means the world to me that you saved my son's life. I don't... I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost him. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you."

Danny rubbed the back of his head. "Uh... yeah. No problem. It was the right thing to do."

"I don't think I ever thanked you for saving me, either," Walter went on. "It would have been close to a year ago, I think, so maybe you don't remember. You saved me from some genie ghost by the fountain at the park. I'm not sure what would have happened if you hadn't shown up when you did, so again. Thank you."

Danny hunched his shoulders, flustered by all of the gratitude. "Mm-hm."

Walter seemed to have noticed his discomfort, so he mercifully said, "Your superhero ghost business is probably the last thing you want to be talking about right now. So tell me. How have the two of you been doing at school?"

Having moved on from the more emotional topic, the three finished off their meals, Walter offering the teens a scoop of vanilla ice cream each. Sweet treats devoured, Danny excused himself, thanking Wes and Walter for their hospitality. He wished Wes a happy birthday one last time, and then, shooting Walter a wary glance, transformed, turning intangible and flying through the roof.

After that, Wes retired to his room, sitting on his bed. Assured that Danny was gone, he grinned, shaking out his happy jitters. Once he'd settled down, he plucked his new plush from where he'd set it near his pillow. He smiled at it, and ran his thumb along the edge of its felt bangs before holding it close to his chest.

After a moment, he sighed, holding the plush away from himself so that he could study it. A small frown tugged at his lips as he thought about Fenton. Phantom. Agile, clever, selfless, witty, and above all, brave. He was, without a doubt, fantastic. Everything that a superhero was expected to be, and a better friend than he could ever ask for. Wes sighed again, laying down so that he could stare forlornly at his ceiling.

He wished he could be brave.

Gay yearning? In my self-indulgent Halfa AU fanfiction? More likely than you think.

I know I'm like a day late for Christmas, but I hope y'all had some good holidays, and I shall return after New Years with what will hopefully be another goodie!