Welcome back everyone! I bring you a new longish chapter, and in (recent) record time, too!

Overall this is a pretty light chapter, but it's got a couple warnings. Brief description of animal body horror between "one ear flicked" and "nope," and a police brutality joke or two between "Youngblood grinned" and "rubber."

"Uuuugggghhh..."

Danny trudged to their usual lunch table, dragging his feet. He all but dropped his food tray when he reached it, and it was a small miracle it landed bottom down. He soon followed it, landing heavily in his seat. He proceeded to sit there in silence, gently swaying all the while.

Wes paused, a bite of spaghetti halfway to his lips. "What's gotten into you?" he asked. "You look dead on your feet. Uh, no pun intended."

Tucker snickered.

Sam rested her elbow on the table, cheek in hand. "Oh, you know, it's about that time of the year again."

"Time of year?" Wes gawked at his sullen friend. His brows rose in apparent realization, and he leaned over the table, holding a hand up to the side of his mouth to obscure it.

"It isn't his, you know, death day or something, is it?" he stage-whispered tactlessly.

Danny snorted, but it was Tucker who answered. "Nah, that isn't 'til August."

"It's just been a really long weekend," Danny yawned. "I have a super important midterm exam coming up on Friday that I need to study for, but I can't study when ghosts are attacking all night."

"All night?!" Wes cried. "How are you supposed to get any sleep?!"

"Oh, that's easy. I don't."

"Welcome to Team Phantom," Sam snarked.

"Just... all night?" Wes breathed. "That isn't every night, is it?"

"It is still winter," said Tucker. "Ghosts aren't nocturnal, but they do run more efficiently when there's less sunlight. They don't usually act up for the first month or two because there are a lot of truce holidays, so that leaves February and most of March for them to cause problems."

"I had no idea," Wes hummed. He really didn't, either, though he supposed it made an odd sort of sense in hindsight. Frankly, it was quite odd to see a ghost in broad daylight; most of them seemed to prefer being indoors when the sun was out, come to think of it.

For a moment, he wondered how he could have gone so long without noticing their nighttime frequency, especially when he stayed up more nights than not. But after pondering that, he realized he must have lived in a sweet spot in town. Ghosts tended to either stick to the city, or to the school. And while Wes lived a short walk away from the latter, specters tended not to bother when school wasn't in session. Wes guessed he must have been too far away from the heart of Amity Park to trigger his ghost sense.

Danny clearly wasn't that lucky.

"Why don't you ever ask for help?" Wes asked.

"Sometimes Sam and Tucker help me out," Danny replied with a tired shrug. "At least when they don't have too much homework they do."

Wes rolled his eyes. "I mean me. I could help you fight ghosts. I'm strong, and already a budding insomniac. I can handle it, no problem."

"No way," Danny said, shaking his head. "You don't need to get yourself involved in my problems, really. It isn't safe."

"But Sam and Tucker are involved," Wes huffed.

"Yeah, but we've been helping Danny from the beginning," Tucker pointed out. "We know what we're doing."

"But I have powers!" Wes argued. "You guys have weapons and scooters, and I have ghost powers and freaking lightning! Maybe it's dangerous, but I've gotta be safer than you two!"

Sam crossed her arms. "Right. You get your butt handed to you every time you fight a ghost."

"I do not! I can take on Johnny and Skulker any day of the week, and they can't even lay a finger on me!"

"And you can't lay a hand on Skulker without almost breaking it," Tucker joked.

"That was one time!" Wes whirled around to face Danny. "And I was able to kick your butt, remember, mister Swiss Army Ghost?"

"That was a spar, Wes," Danny groaned. But, as much as Wes continually rubbed it in, he was right. He could hold his own well enough by now, and if he couldn't, he had Danny's number.

"...You aren't gonna shut up until I say yes, are you."

"I'll shut up when you pass your midterm."

Danny sighed, long and low. There was no winning. "...Alright, fine. I'll find you a thermos tomorrow, and you patrol Amity Park all night, every night, until Friday."

"Yes!"

"But I expect you to call me if a ghost is too much to handle," Danny pressed. "Sam, Tucker, and Jazz can help, but only as a last resort."

"Ha, you guys are still just backup," Wes snickered.

"Difference is, we don't let Danny tell us we can't take care of ourselves," Sam said sternly.

"You don't have to tell me," Danny huffed.

Tucker cocked a brow at him.

"...Okay fine, sometimes you have to tell me."

"Ignore him, it's a ghost obsession thing," said Sam.

"Hey!"

"I figured as much," Wes replied with a cheeky grin.

"Have you figured yours out yet?" Tucker asked, cutting in before Danny could get too riled up.

Wes groaned, letting his forehead hit the table. "Ugh, no. I tried coming up with the obvious stuff, but none of it seems to be working. It's been almost four months, I should have figured it out by now, right?"

Tucker gave him an awkward shoulder pat. "Don't worry, dude. It's bound to come up sooner or later. Who knows, maybe it'll happen when you're out kicking ghost booty."

"I hope so," Wes moaned.

"Are you sure you can handle yourself?" Danny asked. "It's a lot, I know. You don't have to do this just to make sure I don't fail my class."

"Are you kidding?" Wes guffawed. "I've been waiting for the chance to really see what I can do. Helping you out is just a bonus."

Danny put a hand up to his chest in mock offense. "You wound me, Wes! I knew it, you were just after the glory all along!"

"Pfft, yeah, the glory of crashing and burning," quipped Tucker.

"Ten bucks says he won't last a night," said Sam.

"Hey!" Wes cried.

"Twenty says he's as bad at dodging as Danny is," upped Tucker.

Danny and Wes scoffed in unison. "Hey!"

({O})

It was twilight the following day. Wes sat on the rooftop of his house, sitting on his too-small hoodie so the chilling breeze wouldn't tug it away. Though the days were slowly warming, the nights were not, pricking at the exposed skin of Wes's arms. He rubbed them, mulling over the game plan his friends had made for him.

"The best time to start patrol is around eight o' clock," Danny told him. "That's when ghosts tend to really get active. They won't slow down until around six in the morning. Five if you're really lucky."

"Usually we start near FentonWorks, then fan out," Tucker said, holding up a somewhat crudely drawn map. Suburbs and landmarks were sketched out in rough blocks, with a spiral drawn over the whole thing in red. "Ghosts usually stay away from there, but you don't want to get too close anyway, just in case they have the building's radar on."

"Or their ghost shield," Danny added. "I've flown into it enough times to know better than to start right on top of it."

"You shouldn't run into anything too dangerous," said Sam. "You're pretty likely to see some animal ghosts, which shouldn't be too much to handle, and maybe some low-level troublemakers. Not much in the way of big threats, but you're probably gonna deal with a lot of smaller ones."

"But if you do run into some real bad news," Danny insisted, "flash, and then call me, got it?"

"Got it," Wes nodded. "Don't worry, I'll make sure Amity Park stays safe."

"A nice place to live," Tucker cracked.

After that, the gang decided that Danny could still take care of anything that his ghost sense picked up, but they insisted that he not pay attention to the news or ask for updates; there was no way his obsession would let him concentrate if he knew there were ghosts he was ignoring. He needed to trust that he would be informed if things got really hairy. Otherwise, he was to spend his evenings studying, and then catching up on as much lost sleep as he possibly could.

Wes had also gotten a quick rundown of how the thermos worked. It wouldn't do anyone any good if he accidentally captured himself.

Wes checked the time on his phone. 7:52. It would be a good idea to start heading deeper into town. He stood up, grabbing his hoodie as he arose. He transformed, then shrugged it on. It fended off the worst of the chill, but he could still feel goosebumps creeping up and down his limbs.

Maybe he should have asked Clockwork if willingly changing his ghost form was possible when he had the chance. He could really do with some long sleeves right about then.

Wes flew until he reached FentonWorks, hovering a long way up. Even from there, he could feel the ambient hum of a ghost shield he couldn't quite see. Briefly, he wondered if he could sap it and use its energy for himself. But he quickly dismissed the thought; he didn't want to risk another situation like with the Jack-O-Nine-Tails, especially not with tech geared towards repelling ghosts.

Hardly a minute later, his ghost sense had him snapping to full attention. He didn't have his phone on him in ghost form, but he was willing to bet it was almost exactly 8 p.m. It took very little time at all for him to discern the direction he needed to go.

Time to go out there and prove himself.

Although, it didn't look like there would be much to prove with the first ghost. It was so small, Wes didn't even see it at first. Beneath the shrubs of a nearby apartment complex was a radioactive green bunny, the only thing marking it as a ghost aside from its complexion being the presence of a second set of eyes. Once it was spotted, it peered up, nose twitching cutely.

"Awww, look at you!" Wes gushed, cheeks glowing an affectionate pink as he cupped them. "What are you doing all the way out here, buddy? Don't you know the human world isn't safe for squishy little guys like you?"

One ear flicked, and then the other, the ghost bunny not answering. But then it growled, a guttural sound more reminiscent of a gator than a small rodent. All four eyes narrowed and reddened, and out of its mouth slithered something that nobody could be asked to properly describe. At first glance, it resembled baleen. But the protrusions were far too mobile, wiggling like the antennae of a sea anemone. They parted, not quite like proper jaws, and not quite like insectoid mandibles, but rather like something unsettlingly in between.

Wes sucked the ghost up before it could reveal anything more than that. "Nope."

It was almost a blessing that he didn't have to dwell on the creature longer. As he fought back a shudder, he was once again struck by his ghost sense, this one pulling him deeper into town.

"Ugh, I'll take anything as long as it isn't another eldritch rabbit," Wes groaned, taking off.

It wasn't. He heard the ghost before he saw it, or rather, ghosts. The streets growled with the familiar thrum of Johnny's ghastly motorcycle, and this time he wasn't alone. In the passenger seat was a green-haired girl, though it was clear from her ethereal glow that she wasn't just following some recent fad. The two seemed to be enjoying themselves, leaping over potholes while Johnny used a lead pipe to knock down anything ranging from mailboxes to street signs.

Wes grinned. "Okay, this I can handle."

He dove, leveling out as he neared the road. This time of night, there was little in the way of traffic, leaving Wes to catch up to the bike unimpeded. He wasn't as slow as he used to be, nor as unpracticed. He would make sure Johnny didn't get away this time.

It wasn't long before he was noticed. Johnny glared into his side view mirror, then tossed a look over his shoulder to give a proper one. "Yeesh, can't a happy couple joyride in peace? You're even more of a buzzkill than the other kid is."

His passenger scoffed. "Don't tell me this is the little twerp you were ranting and raving about."

"So you must be Kitty," Wes hummed. He'd heard Danny mention her enough times that it stood to reason this was the girl Johnny saw on and off. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm about to embarrass your boyfriend in front of you."

"For real, dog?" Johnny scoffed. "You're gonna try to make me look bad in front of my girl? That's low, even for you, and I'm not about to let that happen."

Without warning, Johnny sharply turned, pulling his bike into a drift that spun it completely around. He shifted gears, seamlessly reversing without so much as a stutter to his momentum. He revved, and from the headlight shot an angry ectoplasmic beam.

Wes swerved, dodging the unexpected attack. He smirked. "What, is Shadow not here to fight your battles for you?"

Johnny grit his teeth, firing another beam that was just as easily avoided. It could only shoot straight ahead, so as long as Wes wasn't directly in front of the motorcycle, he was all but safe.

"Oh come on," he taunted, "you're a better fighter when you aren't even doing the fighting!"

Kitty gasped. "Are you really gonna let some brat talk to you that way, Johnny?"

Her boyfriend growled, his grip tightening around the pipe. "No way, kitten. You ready for this, Shadow?"

He was met with a gleeful shriek in reply, the amorphous ghost slipping out from the heavy shadow cast by the headlight. It charged, brandishing its wicked sharp talons.

Wes grinned wildly, fingers splayed at his sides. They hummed with the energy dancing between his fingertips. "Think you can take me on, huh? Think you've got a better shot this time?"

Suddenly, the bike screeched to a halt, sending Wes careening past. Johnny reeled back, and with a mighty swing, he struck Wes straight in the jaw. Their combined momentum had his chin flipping straight up, his body following behind it. He landed roughly on the ground, nursing what had to be a broken jaw.

Smirking, Johnny cradled the pipe over his shoulder, hip cocked. Shadow hissed its pleasure at his side, while Kitty chuckled at Wes's misfortune.

"How was that, punk?" Johnny gloated. "Have you had enough yet?"

With one hand, Wes gripped his jaw, jerking it sideways with a grinding crack. It settled easily into its new position, and despite the sharp, throbbing pain that moving it brought, Wes could open and close it with little issue. Thank you ghost healing.

He was careful to keep his other hand hidden from view as he gathered his energy within it. "Nope," he grunted, heaving himself up with his free hand. "Just wrapping up a gift real quick."

With that, he tossed the thing he had spent his time on the ground preparing. From his hand flew a tiny ball of light, so small and faint it could barely be seen. It sailed upwards, and when it lost its momentum, it stayed suspended in the air. Perplexed by the strange object, Johnny and Shadow leaned in for a better look, finally noticing that it was jerking and trembling with increasing intensity.

"Cover your eyes, Kitty!" Johnny bellowed, making a dive for his girlfriend. He made it just in time, throwing himself between Kitty and the ball of light just before it ruptured.

Unable to maintain its condensed form, it rapidly expanded outwards, lighting up the street with blinding blue light. It only lasted for fractions of a second, but that didn't save Johnny from its effects. He cried out, dropping his pipe to frantically rub at his eyes. Shadow screeched, but being far enough away from the short blast, rather than disintegrating, it was able to retreat beneath the bike to recuperate.

Wes blinked. "Oh wow, I can't believe that actually worked."

He was clearly going to have to fine-tune his control; it wasn't nearly as potent as his usual flashes, and he didn't know whether or not consistent output was even possible. But he was more than happy to know that a remote flashbang was doable in a pinch.

"Johnny!" Kitty cried, rushing to her ailing boyfriend's aid. "Johnny, speak to me! Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine," Johnny groaned, waving off her assistance. "Shadow's out of commission for a bit, though."

Kitty growled. "Oh, that is it!" Shooting Wes a rather venomous glare, she put a hand to her lips, then threw it out in front of herself. "Mwah!"

Wes recoiled, and then veered away with a gasp, just narrowly avoiding the pulsing lip-shaped energy that came his way. It instead struck a streetlight, which then blinked out of existence.

Wes stared. And stared. And stared a little more. Finally, he whirled around to shoot Kitty a frightened look. "Hey, what gives?!"

"Yeah, what gives?" demanded Johnny, blinking away the last of the stars. "Did you seriously just blow him a kiss? I'm right here!"

Kitty scoffed. "Uh, as if! I was fighting for your honor!"

"Really? Because it looked to me like you were throwing it under the bus," Johnny sneered.

"I can't believe you!" Kitty growled. "You can see whatever pretty girls you like, but I blow one kiss and you lose your freaking mind? Talk about a double standard!"

"So you admit it, you're into him!"

"It was an attack!"

Wes and Shadow made eye contact. Shadow emerged so they could shrug at each other in unison.

Wes didn't waste any time after that. He uncapped the thermos, sucking up all three ghosts, bike included. Johnny and Kitty didn't stop arguing all the while.

"You two are perfect for each other," Wes deadpanned, twisting the lid shut.

He massaged his jaw, marveling at the surprisingly dull ache. He didn't have a doubt in his mind that it would be sore well into the morning, but the fact that most of the pain had already subsided, when his jaw had been knocked out of place and most likely cracked just minutes before, was phenomenal.

He was healing faster. He had to be. He knew that Danny could recover from a stab wound hours after it happened, if not minutes. It seemed Wes's healing factor was starting to catch up. That certainly boded well for his longevity, if that was the case.

Wes figured he would charge up while he still had a bit of a reprieve. His little trick, while brief, had taken a lot of energy to pull off. He knew he needed to replenish his reserves on the off chance he ran into something more imposing than a couple of road hogs.

No sooner had he thought that than his ghost sense went off yet again, this time urging him back the way he'd come. He groaned. "You've gotta be kidding me, another one?! It's like 8:15!"

Wes sped towards the new threat, trailing his hand across the power lines all the way. He felt the surging energy bloom from his core and into his extremities, reinvigorating him and chasing away his encroaching fatigue. It was like he'd forgotten how to breathe, and was taking in his first massive, glorious breath in days.

However, his charging was interrupted by a sudden hot, stinging pain in his hand. He withdrew it quickly, hissing at the numbness that lingered. Shaking his wrist, he glared at the wire, wondering why it had seemingly turned traitor all of a sudden.

"...Is that... ice...?"

Ahead of him, he heard a slam, followed by a car alarm sounding off. He rushed ahead, skidding to a halt at the sight before him.

The entire intersection was coated in a smooth layer of ice, thickest on the streets and thinning as it crept up buildings and telephone poles. Klemper stood in the center of it all, his palms flat against the dented hood of a car. Ice seeped from his fingertips, frost slowly spreading along the vehicle in a thickening shell. The driver screamed within, frantically jiggling the handle, but she was already trapped.

"Won't you please be my friend?!" Klemper babbled, striking the hood again. The ice crept another foot. "I really want you to be my friend!"

Oh, that so wasn't happening. Wes charged, using his newfound power to strike Klemper with both legs. The ghost, not being aware of his presence, wasn't braced at all, so he went tumbling and skidding on the icy ground before landing on his rear.

With him incapacitated for the time being, Wes focused his attention on the car, halfway towards becoming a metal iceberg. He approached it, placing both hands on its side. His eyebrows shot up when the ice resisted his attempts to phase through it. That meant simply grabbing the passenger was out of the question.

Which meant he had to brute force it. He was really hoping it wouldn't come to that, but he could handle a little pain if it meant a helpless civilian didn't become a human popsicle.

"I'm gonna break the windshield!" he warned, waiting until the woman nodded before hopping onto the hood. The ice burned, even through the thick soles of his shoes, but he ignored it, bracing himself as he poised one foot to strike.

It came down in a black and orange blur, his heel making contact with the windshield. Backed by his core energy, the glass shattered easily beneath him, showering the dashboard in translucent pebbles. Pain darted up Wes's knee, but he disregarded it as he used the same foot to brush aside the lingering shards at the edges of the opening.

The driver wasted no time, clambering through the gaping hole. She took Wes's offered hand, and he hauled her up onto unsteady feet, then aided her to the equally slippery ground.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she gasped gratefully, pulling him into a one-armed embrace. She whipped her phone out, snapped a picture of the two of them, then hurried off as fast as her wobbling feet would carry her.

Wes tossed his hands up. "A picture? Now? Unbelievable."

The crunch of footsteps behind him alerted him to the fact that Klemper had finally gotten to his feet. He spun around, putting his dukes up as he anticipated the ghost's attack.

But it didn't come. Instead, Klemper looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Why wouldn't you let her be my friend?!" he whined pitifully, wiping his nose on his sleeve. It came away rigid, his snot frozen by the chill emanating from him. "Did you want to be my friend instead?!"

Wes shook his head, bringing his tail forth to slither beneath him. "Sorry, but I don't socialize with people who wear pajamas in public."

Klemper blinked down at his onesie, confused. And then he grit his teeth, his tears crystallizing before dropping like stones. "But these are my favorite pajamas!"

He charged, arms outstretched. But Wes was waiting for him, prepared with a counterattack. He drifted aside, tail extended to trip him. It did its work, sending Klemper to the ground, sliding in circles on his stomach. "Ow!"

Still, it didn't keep him down for long. He was quick to get to his feet, sucking in an enormous breath of air before expelling it in a massive gust of frosty wind.

Wes rose to the air, well above the misty cloud. Even so, he felt ice nip at his back, solidifying into freezing cold crystals. Not to mention the mist reeked like bad breath.

"Ugh, ever heard of winter green?" He dove back down, arms racing with electricity. Klemper put his arms up, readying for impact.

But Wes never had to lay a finger on him. To his surprise, his energy leapt to the ground below him just before he reached it, arcing along the sheet of ice that coated it. Klemper was helpless to the shock. Diluted as it was, it was still enough to rattle his teeth, and he swayed where he stood before collapsing.

Well, ice was made of water, and water was notorious for being highly conductive. "Huh. I bet that would make for a great team attack with Danny's ice."

But he didn't dwell longer than that. He didn't know how durable Klemper was, or how long he would stay down for. Wes sucked the ghost up in the thermos before he had a chance to find out.

"I AM THE BOX- aww." Wes didn't even need to look to suck up the newcomer who thought he had the jump on him.

"Wouldn't be a ghost hunting night if the Box Ghost didn't show up at least once," he sighed.

And boy, what a night it was shaping up to be. Wes rolled his shoulders, the meager amount of ice that had stuck to his back sloughing off easily without its master to maintain it. Wes could only hope the ice on the ground dissolved just as easily.

"I wonder if that lady's gonna come back for her car," he pondered aloud. He took in the vehicle, and even without all the ice it was clear it was in no state to drive.

Probably not, then. But he suspected the local insurance company would be getting a call in the morning.

He didn't have a chance to think on it longer than that, though. His spine gave yet another uncomfortable twinge, and he groaned, rising to the air once more. "Oh come on, is a two minute break too much to ask?!"

Still, he made his way towards the new threat, who took longer to find than Wes would have expected. It was a small child, wearing a police uniform with a too-large cap to top off the look. In one hand he held a leash, at the end of which was a large, skeletal, and rather bored-looking hound. His other hand looked suspiciously like the barrel of an oversized pistol.

"Oh, great, it's Youngblood," Wes moaned. "I've heard enough horror stories about this kid to last a lifetime."

Naturally, being a bright orange blot in the night sky, it took almost no time at all for the tot to spot him.

"Hold it right there, mister!" he bellowed, pushing his nasally voice to take an amusingly gruff note. "Don't you know you're breaking core-few?!"

The dog sighed through nonexistent nostrils. "It's curfew," he droned. "He's breaking curfew."

"Tomato potato, who cares?" Youngblood pouted. "How's about we apprehend this chump?"

"Aren't we going to read him his rights?" the skeleton pushed, although his menacing glare indicated he hardly cared either way.

Youngblood grinned. He pointed his arm upwards, squeezing one eye shut as he took aim. "What rights? He was dead when we found him!"

"Uh oh!" Wes dove out of the way just in time to dodge the oncoming projectile, only to gawk at Youngblood when he realized what it was. "Was that an actual bullet?!"

"Relax, they're just rubber!"

"Those don't look like rubber!" Wes wailed as Youngblood fired again. Luckily he aimed about as well as one would expect of a ten-year-old, but Wes certainly didn't want to stay still long enough to let him hit.

Just when he thought this encounter would be enough of a handful, the evening decided it wanted to throw him another curveball. A pair of ghost dogs, these ones with ectoplasmic flesh, leapt from the rooftops above, pinning Wes to the ground. He yelped, discharging a rather nasty shock to the both of them. He clambered out from under them, pointing his thermos at the still-present and much larger– if younger– threat before him.

Yet another distraction sounded off next to him. "I AM THE BOX GHOST! Beware my cardboard fury!"

"Okay how?!" Wes cried, narrowly dodging as yet another round came his way. "I didn't let you out!"

"As if a puny soup cylinder could contain me!" the Box Ghost guffawed. He raised a recycling bin into the air, launching it at the dumbfounded Halfa.

Wes groaned, but he couldn't afford to lament. He let the container sail through him, his arms dancing with agitated sparks. The dogs got their paws under them, and it was all Wes could do to avoid their lunges, the Box Ghost's projectiles, and Youngblood's bullets.

All this commotion, and a half hour hadn't even passed.

This was going to be a very, very, very long night.

({O})

"Uuuugggghhh..."

Wes dragged his feet as he made his way to the gang's lunch table, unceremoniously dropping his tray. He slumped in his seat, his head rolling back. "UUUUGGGGHHH."

"Long night?" Danny asked knowingly, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Three. Days." Wes groaned again, long and loud. "That's how long it's been since I've slept. I couldn't catch a break! Is this what it's like for you every night?!"

Danny shrugged. "I mean yeah, pretty much. I can get half an hour in if I'm lucky."

"How." Wes's forehead hit the table. His tray jumped.

"Well," said Tucker, "when your core tells you to save the town or perish, you probably learn to get really good at it."

Danny shot him a look, but he still nodded. "Yeah, I sort of got used to it after a while. I've got my method down pat by now."

"And you still barely sleep," Wes moaned. "Please tell me three days helped."

Danny grinned even wider, holding up his exam sheet. "I got a B, and that's like, two and a half grades better than I usually get. I think it's safe to say I'm not redoing sophomore year. Yet."

"Great job, Danny," Sam praised. "You definitely earned that grade. You look like you're feeling better, too."

Now that was an understatement. Danny was sitting up straighter, the ever-present bruises under his eyes far less pronounced than the gang was used to seeing. Even his signature outfit looked better put together. Wes hadn't realized how worn out he always looked until, suddenly, he didn't.

"Yeah, man," agreed Tucker. "You really should take a break more often. Chill out, be a kid every once in a while."

"But I can't," said Danny, wilting. "Amity Park is counting on me, I can't just let ghosts do whatever they want. If I don't stop them, who will?"

"I will," Wes piped up.

Danny rolled his eyes. "Look at you, you're exhausted. You're nowhere near my level yet, you barely lasted three days. How are you supposed to do this every night?"

"Probably not every night," Wes pouted. "And you're wrong, you know. I made it three days, and I didn't get badly hurt. Look me over, see for yourself." He spread his arms out, nearly hitting Tucker in the process. He really was uninjured, save for the pale red remains of a few old scratches.

"And look at you," he went on. "I don't think I've ever seen you look so, you know, awake. You slept, and you passed your midterm. I think me being a little tired was worth it."

Danny pursed his lips. Wes was right; he really was no worse for wear. Clearly he hadn't suffered anything he wouldn't recover from within a day or two. He'd honestly handled himself better than Danny would have expected.

Still, he wasn't convinced. "I dunno, Wes. What if you run into something you really can't handle? Like that rhino ghost, he's gotta be prowling somewhere, right?"

Wes smiled. "Well, then I can just call you, right?"

Danny sighed. He was running out of arguments. "...Alright, fine. You can take a day a week."

"We trade every two days," Wes countered.

"But we do the weekends together," Danny insisted. "I gotta keep an eye on you sometimes."

Wes stuck out his hand. "Deal."

Danny huffed, but he took the offered hand, shaking it firmly. "Great, deal."

"I can't believe they both wanna get their butts kicked every night," Sam hummed.

"Tell me about it," Tucker agreed. "But better they both get a little hurt than Danny getting a lot hurt."

"And how."

Although, there was one thing they were definitely on the same page about. Neither of them thought they'd ever see the day where Danny would compromise on his workload; his obsession simply wouldn't allow it. But, they supposed, Wes was just stubborn like that. They didn't think anyone, let alone Wes, could convince Danny to do anything he didn't want to do.

But hey. Maybe this would do their best friend some good.

Because it's about time Danny got some heccin sleep

Not sure how long the next chapter will be or when I'll release it, but it should bring to mind one or two of the earlier chapters. :)