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sebstanseabass · 3 years

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 7

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lunch with Bucky was spent in a little Italian place right across the bar. It belonged to a seventy-year old Italian immigrant named Marco who invested in it with nothing but his savings when he first came to New York. Fifteen years later, his little dining place stood still through its ups and downs. In fact, business was getting stronger for Marco ever since the bar opened. His target customers expanded from fellow immigrants to little boys who played soccer in the little league and finally to drunk bastards who wanted pizza in the middle of the night. He also started putting up a 24/7 sign and hired more people to work for him. Marco gave me a sympathetic smile as soon as he passed by you with a bottle of hot sauce he knew you liked.

"Where's the hunk?" His Italian accent never faltered. "Ditched ya?"

Lunch with Bucky was also cut short when he received a phone call from Leonard about an emergency in the White Wolf. "It's Leonard." He said. "Gotta get back to the hotel." Then you slipped in a tiny question, seeing a different phone on his hand: "Is that your phone? I thought you left it in your penthouse, that's why you crashed into our apartment."

"I borrowed Peter's old phone when we did our little fiancè act back there. Then I got my phone back after I ate all that food."

"And here you are again eating."

"Not anymore, I'm not." He chuckled, getting up from the chair and throwing his napkin gently on the table. "I gotta go, doll. Duty awaits. I'll see you around."

You were left there with two plates of pasta, one large pizza, and a hundred dollar bill that covered the whole meal. "Plus tip." Bucky then fled and hailed a cab. He gave you one last look and a small salute before getting inside then off he went.

"He had some business work to do." You replied. "Can I take these to-go please? Oh, and here." You handed Marco the hundred dollar bill and said something you have never said (not once!) in your entire life. "Keep the change."

Marco grinned, took the money and placed it inside his apron pockets. "Any chance you got four more of this?"

"Hey, that's with the tip already!" You playfully rolled your eyes and leaned back on the chair. "And you should ask the hunk that. Not me."

He started taking some plates off the table, his back a bit hunched as he did. "Who was that anyway? Finally replaced that old boyfriend of yours?"

"Old boyfriend? Marco, I'm single. Oh no, you're not at that stage now, are you?" It was meant as a joke but you did genuinely care for the old guy.

Marco stopped from picking up the plates and stood taller. "What ya talking 'bout?"

"You know," you whispered, "the forgetful stage."

"Oh fuck off." You earned a glare from him then continued to pick up the plates from the table before wiping it clean. A mother covered her three-year-old daughter's ears, with pasta noodles falling out of her mouth. She said something to Marco but was overpowered by his voice. A man in his 40's kept looking at you and Marco, probably wondering what the fuss was all about. "I'm still young!" He added. "And you know who I'm talking about. The guy you live with."

You scoffed and gave him an unbelievable look as you watched him clean, avoiding the stares people were starting to give. "That's not my boyfriend, Marco." You whispered.

"What? He's not?"

"He's my roommate." You took a sip of your bottled water. "We're roommates, nothing more."

"Well, good. I like the hunk better than that skinny roommate of yours." He bellowed laughing, holding his big, round belly. His voice echoed against the walls.

"Wait, so you thought Peter was my boyfriend this whole time?" You genuinely asked.

"Well, yeah! You were always together eating and whatnot. What was I supposed to think?"

You were supposed to argue with Marco that it was okay to be friends with someone of the opposite gender: to platonically hangout twenty-four seven, have pizza nights, movie nights, and all the things couples do but in a very platonic way. But Marco was an old man who stubbornly clung to his ancient beliefs. You didn't want to light a fire you and him. Besides, you were still on your way to earning his trust and getting a friend discount.

"Unbelievable." You mumbled, hoping he wouldn't hear it. Despite his old age, Marco still had the ears of a twenty-year old.

"You and me, both. All the time I was thinking to myself, you could do better!"

Oh, God. I know where this is going. You thought. "I'm not letting you set me up with your son, Marco."

"Why not?"

"Because he's old." You groaned, wishing he would just clear the table and just get it on with your to-go Italian food.

"So was that hunk you were with!"

Tired of all the back and forths, you sighed. "Marco, can't you just give me the food? I still have work to do."

"Yeah, yeah, aight. Don't nag me." Marco grunted. "You sounding like my ex-wife back there." His voice faded once he went back towards the counter, and started placing the food in the little to-go boxes.

Your phone on the table lit up. A text message from Peter asking you if you were still with Bucky. You replied back instantly that he went back to the White Wolf. You received no more messages from him after that.

A few seconds later, a figure approached and stopped right in front of you. You looked up and saw one of your friends who also did photography back in college.

"Wanda?"

Wanda flashed you that sweet smile of hers that reminded you of chocolates, rainbows, and unicorns.

"Aria! Wow, it's so nice to see you!" She crouched down to envelope you in a warm hug, then sat across from you, where Bucky was sitting a few minutes ago. She placed her small, shiny purse right on the table, her painted nails never letting it go. "I was just walking down the street and then saw you from the window. How are you? It's been quite long, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm doing good." Wanda could be such a Chatty Cathy. She was the kind of person that never let silence take over a room. If you memory served you right, you haven't seen each other since you graduated from college. She was a year younger than you and even though you stayed in New York the whole time, you never bothered to visit her at NYU Tisch during her last year. "How about you? How have you been doing?"

"I'm doing real good too! I actually set up my own studio a year ago in Manhattan after being a wedding photographer. I now photograph models, sometimes I do photowalks. I also hold photo exhibits from time to time." Unlike you, Wanda chose to follow her passion and majored in Photography and Imaging. "It's been really fun!"

Albeit feeling happy for her, a pang of jealousy struck you. You tried your best to ignore it and said: "That's great, Wanda. I'm so proud of you. You've come a long way since then."

She grinned. "I did, yeah. How about you? How's the business thing?"

You pursed your lips. "I'm actually juggling two jobs right now. I bartend at that bar over there," you pointed across the street, "and I also started a photography business." You continued. "I just do product photos for small businesses."

It was nothing big like Wanda's. Actually, it wasn't anything compared to her Manhattan studio and photowalks and photo exhibits. Nothing at all.

Her jaw dropped. Eyes wide. "Bartending? Wow! That doesn't sound like you at all!"

You chuckled then shook your head. "Who would've thought, huh? But it's pretty convenient and it pays half of my rent."

"You're still living with the Parker guy?"

"Actually, yes I still am." You replied. "But it's just the two of us now."

"Nothing more comforting than a familiar face around, huh?" She answered. "Oh hey, it's great you're still doing photography. I thought it was just a hobby of yours."

"I fell in love with it more during college, you know that."

Wanda just nodded her head in response then looked at her wrist watch. "Right. Well, this has been fun but I have a meeting to go to at some company who wants to talk about collaborations and stuff. You know the drill." She stood up from the chair, its legs scraping the wooden floors. "It was really nice to see you, Aria. I hope we can see each other again soon."

You mirrored her and stood up, reaching for a hug. "It's nice to see you too, Wanda." You let her go, then rambled. "I'm just in the bar if you ever wanna grab a drink or maybe coffee or lunch or anything, really."

"I will." She replied.

Before walking out, Wanda placed her hand on your shoulder, matched with a tight-lipped smile; like the gesture of someone towards a family member at one's funeral. Funnily enough, it was kind of appropriate. Your career in photography might as well be dead. You haven't received any work inquiry in over a month now, and some businesses have been rejecting your photography services. It was the classic "it's not you, it's me" scenario. They just found someone better.

With Wanda out of sight, you drained your thoughts and continued to stare at the moving cars on the streets. Getting you out of your trance was Marco tapping you on the shoulder.

"You alright there, kid?" He asked while handing you a plastic bag full.

"Yeah, sorry." You answered. "Just got distracted." You relieved him of your to-go food, grabbing it from his calloused hands.

"I know that kid you were talking to."

"Wanda?"

"Yeah, yeah. She photographed my son's wedding."

"The one you kept setting me up with?"

"Not that old bastard." He answered, frowning. "The younger, hotter one. With all the cheekbones and the eyes. Got them from me." Marco looked like a taller Danny DeVito. You doubted this "younger, hotter one" of his looked anything like Marco. "She also photographed my daughter's wedding."

"Jesus. How many children do you have?"

"Five." He chuckled. "I got some great swimmers."

You made a guttural sound and rolled your eyes. "Oh, God. Did not need to know that. Anyway, I gotta go. See you around, Marco." With that, you started to walk out and headed straight to the apartment.

There was nothing much to do once you got in the apartment besides putting the leftovers inside the fridge. The bar usually opened at four in the afternoon for happy hour so you took a short nap and was able to clear you head of all the things that happened overnight.

You woke up at about three in the afternoon and headed down the bar. By the time you got there, Nick was already inside, arranging the tables and chairs that were turned upside down.

"Hey, you got in early today." You greeted him as you approached the bar counter.

Nick looked up, hands still wrapped around a table. "Yeah well, I can't let you be employee of the month every single time."

"Living right above the bar does have some of its perks." You chuckled, grabbing an apron. "Need help with those?"

He answered no but his actions said otherwise. You jogged towards him and lifted the other side of the table, placing it on the floor without making much of a sound. You walked towards the other tables then started lifting one, praying to God you won't let it slip away from your arms but of course, you still had no luck on your side. Once Nick asked you that one question ("Do you want to go on a date with me?") you didn't want to hear, you dropped the table on your right foot. Bam! You stifled the sound of pain that itched your throat. Nick shuffled towards me and asked me if you were okay. You gently shrugged him off, telling him that it was nothing and that you you recently had a concussion less than twenty-four hours ago, this was absolutely nothing.

"You sure?" He asked. His hand gripped my waist, trying to maintain my balance.

"Yes, Nick." You straightened up and tried to stretch your right foot, checking if it was sprained or not. Thankfully, it was still good for running.

He let go of you then scratched the back of his head. His eyes focused on the wooden floors. "That was not a good time to ask that."

"I don't think there was ever a good time to ask that."

"Is that a no?"

Your mind recalled the conversation you and Peter had at the elevator: "Never dip the pen in company ink, right?"

Yes, it was easier to let him down easy with no one else around. You could also tell him you'll think about it but either way, you'd still be spending the remaining minutes in the bar with the fleeting awkwardness hanging in the air. But the silence was becoming heavier each second you weren't saying anything so you just shut your mind for a second and said: "Is it okay if I think about it first?"

"Yes. Sure. Of course!" He replied, finally meeting your eyes. "Just let me know. You know where to find me. Just here in the bar. 'Cause I work here."

"I know, Nick." You snickered. "I work here too."

"Right, right." He shook his head. "I'm just gonna..." He trailed off, pointing to the tables with his thumb.

"Yeah, I'll just..." You didn't know where else to go so you just made up an excuse. "I'll just be in the kitchen."

"What are you gonna do there?"

"I think there are still some shipments there? From earlier?" Lie. "I'll take care of them. Don't worry."

"O-okay."

And with that, you left Nick arranging tables and chairs while you headed towards the kitchen, sat on the floor and scrolled through different social media platforms before one of the cooks entered the kitchen. You ignored the befuddled look she gave you. It was the sign to stand up and walk out of the kitchen. So you did.

Once Peter walked in the doors, you grabbed a bottle of beer and removed the bottle cap. You greeted him with a smile and placed his drink on the counter. "Hey, Parker. Guess what?"

"Hey, y/n." He smiled, sitting on the stool and placing his briefcase on the counter. He immediately grabbed the beer bottle and took his first sip. "Nick finally asked you out?"

"You don't know the rules to the 'Guess What' game, do you?"

"Oh, I know the rules." He replied. "I'm just a born rule breaker. So," he stared at his beer bottle scratching the sticker with his thumbs, "did you say yes?"

"I told him I'll think about it."

"And you've thought about it?"

"Yes."

"...and?"

"I'm gonna tell him no." You walked away from Peter, pouring beer from the beer tap into a beer mug for one of the regulars who just walked in. "It's kind of hard to work with someone you're dating or you've dated. I mean, you learned that the hard way, right?"

Peter groaned, reminiscing the time he dated his co-worker, a certain Denise, for six months, stringing her along for a couple more before dumping her. He couldn't even begin to describe how much hatred Denise had for Peter. One night, you found Peter on the rooftop, writing his resignation letter. Of course, you had to throw it after sneaking up on him behind his back. Apparently, Peter couldn't take any more of Denise's death stares during meetings, lunch breaks, and any time she was around Peter. Luckily, Denise got fired the next day for some legal dispute. Peter drank his whole night away that very day and you ended up taking care of him. The next day, you told him everything he'd done that night except one thing: trying to kiss you.

"Hey," Peter hissed, "here he comes. Good luck." He swiftly left his briefcase and beer bottle on the counter, hurrying his way towards the toilet.

You gave Nick a small smile once he opened the counter pass-through. "Nick. Hi."

"Y/n. Hi!"

"So, about the thing earlier -- "

"Can I get a beer?" Interrupted a man on your left side but you couldn't care less. You put up your hand in front of his face. "In a mug!"

Before you could even say "I'm sorry, Nick, but I can't date a co-worker. It's just not right. But you're great. Not just with me" the man shooed your hand away. "Hey! The hell is this?"

You groaned. "You'll get your beer in just one moment, okay?"

The man huffed and left the counter then sat on a nearby table, flipping me off. You rolled your eyes at him and brought your attention back to Nick who was still waiting for your answer. While halfway through your short speech you have been preparing in your head, he interrupted with a: "Yeah, yeah, I know where this is going. It's fine. It's alright. I understand. I'll let you get back to work."

He started turning around but you immediately stopped him. "So this is okay, right? No weird tension between us, or something like that?"

He nodded his head and sent you a warm smile. "Yeah, everything's good. At least I tried, y'know. I'll, uh, see ya around 'cause y'know -- "

"You work here, yeah."

"Yeah. Well... " And with that, he treaded away towards the pass-through and approached some newcomers.

The man from earlier was still staring at you so you went ahead and opened the beer tap. Before the liquid even reached the top of the mug, a hand laid on top of the tap handle and turned the tap off.

"Now," Bucky's voice rang inside your ears, "how about you make me a mean drink, doll?"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes story #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky au #au #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fan fic

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undercoverwizardfanfiction · 3 years

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Mud is Thicker then Blood: Test

Verse: ROTTMNT Fantasy Verse

Summary: Being a father is one thing, but also being a teacher is another matter entirely. Especially with a son as stubborn as Donnie

Characters: Leonard, Donnie, Mickey, and Danny

Pairings: Why are you like this?

Rated: G

Dedicated to: @star-boy-blue for all the amazing art you made us!

“Focus Donnie”

The fourteen year old in front of him rolled his eyes, but as a parent he’s used to that. Donnie brought up his bo staff again. “I am, Dad.” As he expected, Don responded with an attack. Whenever Don got frustrated, he’d always respond with physical retaliation. Len took a step back, avoiding the blow before forcing his way into Don’s space. The teen immediately got a flustered look on his face before doing a corkscrew dodge away. Len could see Don’s eyes shift to his left. The teen started charging to move past him when Len swept his hook staff out, catching him around the ankle. With a squawk, that Len struggled not to laugh at, Don hit the ground on his plastron.

Len couldn’t help but wince. ”You ok?” He stepped closer, kneeling down looking over his son's form with a critical eye. Other than some dirt on his clothes, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong. “How’s your leg?”

“It's fine.” Of course Don wanted to do things the hard way. He rolled away and back to his feet with his training staff in hand. A part of Leonard is proud, but he can’t help but sigh as he stood up. “Dee, you don’t have to do this. If you need more practice and training it's fine. No one will think less of you.”

The teen looked at him with what can only be described as exasperation. “No, you don’t get to decide when I’m done. After how many times you made me try ‘just one more time’. No, I’m not done till I say I’m done.” He spun his staff for a moment, probably to vent some anger before slamming the end into the ground and settling into a stance.

Len studied him for a moment. He knew that Donnie is determined not to fail today. He knew what’s at stake. “Then listen. When you bottle up your feelings you get clumsy. You lose your advantage. Just breath and you’ll succeed.” He slid back into a ready stance.

A moment later, Donnie was on him again. The two deflected each other’s attacks for a few moments before Don pivoted in his step. Bringing his staff up to swing at Len’s head. With more defense then necessary he brought his shoulder up to shove Don away before taking several steps back. Without breaking eye contact he reached up to test his ponytail to make sure it wasn’t undone. With that, Len couldn’t help but grin. A surge of energy went through him as his hand caught the incoming bo, his hand now traced with an almost translucent black flame that made Don give an offended noise. “No fair, you didn’t say we could use magic!”

“Come on, rule number one is sometimes you gotta make up your own rules.” Len freed his hand, allowing his kinetic magic to flow through his body. Don, who knew better at this point, bent his knees and jumped backwards. Len could see the gears rolling in his son’s head as Don decides his next move. Len shot forward to retaliate, causing Don to jump again with a furrowed brow when his levitation kicked in and allowed him to float further away and try to stay out of his reach.

Len was on him the minute he hit the ground with an almost inhuman speed. His son was able to deflect his blows but was forced to take several steps back till his shell was up against a tree. Len brought the hooked staff down from above as Don quickly blocked with his own. Len can see his brow is furrowed in frustration, struggling to come up with a solution to the problem. The part of him that is Donnie’s father, silently begged him to surrender. They can always try again later. The teacher in him begs his son not to give up.

Don suddenly released his bo staff and ducks away, the staff snapping to the ground causing Len to stumble. Before Len can move, Don twisted his body and gave him a kick in the ribs. The blow broke his concentration and he lost his kinetic magic as he held his ribs with one arm hand. “Nice hit,” he commented, even though he didn’t have a broken rib or even a bruise, it was enough to knock the air out of him. “It’s not enough to beat your old man though.”

Don grinned. “You said I didn’t have to beat you though.” In his free hand Don held up a familiar blue headband with a gold coin held between his fingers that made Len blink rapidly. He reached for his ponytail again, only to find that the headband he used to tie it back was replaced by a cheap, frayed string, that fell apart at his touch letting his hair fall in his face. He could only stare in surprise for a moment before grinning. “Yeah, I did say that.” He stood up. “When did you realize that’s where I hid the coin?”

“This morning I saw you putting product in your hair, which you wouldn’t have done unless you were worried something might fall out.” Donnie held up the coin. “This counts as a win right? I found the coin, stole the coin, all without you noticing.”

Len’s proud smile sank into a slightly sadder one, one he hoped donnie wouldn’t notice. “Yeah kiddo, you win.”

Barely a moment later, Mickey burst out of the bushes, flailing his flippers in the air “WOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO go cookieee!” He shrieked with glee before sliding over and wrapping the teen in a hug. “Your Uncle Mickey is so so proud of you baby Deeeeeeeeeeeee.”

Don gave a loud gasp as he struggled to free himself. “Yeah I know Uncle Mickey! Air, turtles need air! Gah!” He squirmed around but Mickey’s hugs are a power all in themselves and they both end up in a somewhat escape/wrestling match (escape for Donnie, wrestling for Mickey), Len grinned as Danny approached him. “Well, he won.”

“Only because you went easy on him.”

Len glanced at the wrestling nephew and uncle, thankfully too enraptured in their wrestling match to notice them. “Don’t tell him that. He’s my kid, I’m not going to go all out on my kid.”

“I know, you big softy.” Danny wrapped his arm around Len’s neck and pulled him into a side hug for a moment before Len gave him a playful elbow to the ribs and steped away, he brought down his hook staff hard enough to catch the two wrestlers attention (though Mickey had Donnie in a nonlethal head lock, Donnie had a grip on either side of Mickey’s cheeks and was now trying to stretch his face out), Len snapped his fingers with his free hand and pointed to the ground just in front of him. Mickey squirmed free and went to his side while Don stood up.

Hesitating long enough to take a deep breath and move closer, readjusting his hood as though it were a safety blanket. In almost a blink the confident teen who wanted to challenge the world around him was again wracked with insecurity. But, as Donnie stepped up, Len knew his neverending courage would never fail him. “Um,” Donnie started quietly, “I did what you asked. I haven’t snuck out, I’ve listened to everything you said, trained with you everyday, and I got the coin without you noticing.” Despite the anxiety in his eyes, there’s a glimmer of hope. “Do I pass?”

Len had always waited for this day with dread and excitement. He let out a breath through his nostrils before putting on a brave smile. “Yeah you pass. You can be a Mud Dog now.” Don’s eyes filled with excitement as he curled his hands under his wide smile, a strangled squeal started emitting from his throat that sounded sorta like that time Mickey drank that bottle of rainbow liquid that made him radioactive for three days before he stood back up again. Seeming to understand there was more Len wanted to say.

“You’ve earned it. I always knew this day would come, but-” he reached out and cupped the side of his son's face. An act most sons would have detested but Don gently tilted his head into the touch with a smile “-It seems like yesterday I found you, a tiny little child with not even a name. I’ve seen you grow, get better, get stronger, smarter. More stubborn.” He used his thumb to rub his cheek, “You grew up too fast for me kid.”

“Are you saying you’re old now?” Don said with a wicked grin, trying to alleviate the swelling of Len’s melancholy. But Len responded with an equally wicked grin.

“Not too old to put you in a corner you brat.” He reached up and pulled down Don’s hood, causing him to let out a loud laugh before adjusting it to his standards. Len gestured to Danny and Mickey, “Alright, these two softies said they wanted to give you something in case you passed today. So I’ll let them at it.”

The teen blinked and looked in between the two, “Wait, no you don’t have to-“ but Danny waved him off. “Come on kid, I promise it isn’t vegetables this time.” With a dark blush, Don ducked his face into his scarf, save for his dark pink eyes but didn't protest further.

Danny went first. “From me.” He dug into his pocket, and drew out a familiar silver old pocket watch that he held out. It was probably twice Danny’s age and the only thing on it that had been replaced in its time was the fine dark purple cord that would hold it to the user's form. Don took it with both hands, eyes widening. “Recognize it? It’s the same one you fixed for me when we first found you. Been running ever since. Took care of it so when this day came you’d have something from your favorite Uncle.” Danny ignored Mickey’s offended look in his direction. “And see?” Danny pointed to the outside of the pocket watch, “it even has our initials.” Referring to the giant D on it. “It’s the closest thing I can give you to a family relic.” Danny gave a shrug that he probably hoped to seem nonchalant but failed at the slight quiver to Danny’s breath. “Hopefully you’ll think of me every time you use it,” he said rubbing Don’s scalp over his head.

With that he stepped back and turned away for a moment, probably hoping no one would catch him quickly dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. If anyone but Len noticed they gave no indication. Don looked at the pocket watch with a smile and glint in his eyes before putting it back in his pocket and looking over to Mickey as he squiggled forward. “Well from your ACTUAL favorite Uncle,” Mickey made sure to give Danny a pout (who had collected himself to turn back around) before turning back to Donnie, “I made this a while ago, and figured you’d make good use out of it.” He held out a dark purple bag. That, to an observer may have looked like a terrible gift but Don’s eyes widened showing how valuable it really was. “It’s an infinite bag, you can load it up with a ton of stuff and carry it with you like it was nothing!” He flailed his tentacles excitedly. “Just like what we have!”

Don took the bag with both hands with a look of awe before he smirked weakly, “There’s not a criminal in this right? I don’t want another Registration Day fiasco-”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!!” Mickey cried loud enough for nearby birds to take off, flailing his tentacles again dramatically. “An accident! I didn’t know Heinous Green was in it, I didn't!” He probably would have spent another hour defending himself had Danny not reached out and pulled Mickey back. “I know buddy, I know.” Danny said, pulling off his fedora and setting it on the eel’s head as a way to appease him. Which you wouldn't think would have worked except Mickey immediately deflated, his head sinking into his neck as he let out a sigh, feeling the brim of the silk fedora with a giggle.

Donnie let out a chuckle at his uncle's antics before tying the bag to his waist. He opened his mouth again, probably to thank everyone when Len held up his hand, “I got you something too. It’s not exactly new but I think you’ll enjoy it.” He swung his hook staff around. The moment Don’s eyes set on it he gave a loud gasp.

“I-No-Dad I can't, I can’t!” he protested immediately, taking a physical step back. But Len gave him a stern, but warm look that made him move back into place. Len let the staff rest in the palm of his hand as it returned to its handle form with a flash. “The Dragon Claw staff has been in our family for generations. Only a few of us have been able to use it to its full power. My mom, your grandma, was the first to use it fully in three hundred years. Then me, then you. The staff accepted you as part of the Yukimura family ever since it formed in your hands when you were five. When you wield this staff, it’ll be like me and your grandma are always protecting you.” He extended it out to him.

In that moment, he remembered watching his Mother train with this same staff. He remembered learning how to use it under a bridge, his only shelter from the snow and the only distraction from his hunger. And finally, he remembered a small, green hand, far too curious for his own good, reaching out and touching it, only for it to flash and form. Scaring the poor child for a good day in a half. It had only been when it formed again at Don’s touch (days later under the protective eye of him and Danny) that Len knew it had claimed Donnie.

Donnie looked up to him, only when he saw Len’s affirming smile and nod, did the fourteen year old take it. Cradling it in his hands like a sacred treasure. Len could see the tears form in Don’s eyes and was in a way grateful that his son understood how important a moment this was. He’s about to step up and console him when Donnie scrubbed his eyes on his sleeve

“Th-thanks you guys. Thank you dad. I know I wasn’t always the easiest kid in the world, but you never laid a hand on me or gave up on me. Even though we aren’t blood, I never felt like we weren't….” He took a breath, “Family.”

At that moment, the tables are quickly turned and suddenly it's Len with rapidly filling eyes that he can’t blink away. “Aw hell,” he said, wrapping his arms around his son. He could feel Donnie hug him back just as tightly, his smaller hands gripping the back of his jacket as though terrified Len would disappear from his grasp. “I’m so damn proud to be your dad,” he said, pressing his face into Don’s scalp after giving it a small peck.

Don’s muffled voice broke out from its place in Len’s chest. “Are you crying?”

“No!” Len quickly rubbed his face with his free arm to hide his lies before rewrapping it around Don. “Of course not!”

“Oh, definitely, he’s barely keeping it together,” Danny said with a grin that made Len promise to burn all his romance novels later.

“He’s going to cry big time,” Mickey added.

Len glared at them both, “You two are assholes you know that!?” He used this thumb to wipe his newest stream of tears away. Despite what he said, and despite the laughter, the two Uncles joined in the hug, holding them together as close as they could. The world saw them as thieves, as criminals. Wanted posters said three of them were unreformable monsters. But in that moment, and in so many more, he was a father. The luckiest Dad in the world.

They were a family.

They would always be a family.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fantasy au #donnie #loathsome leonard #leonard #malicious mickey #dastardly danny #tmnt #teenage mutant ninaj turtles #fanfiction #fanfic

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five-rivers · 4 years

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Interview with a Ghost (part 4: Strange)

Sort of a tenuous connection to the prompt. Oh, well.

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

They had asked the Fenton parents for an interview with Daniel Fenton to ask him about things he might have seen at school. They had agreed, heartily, but had insisted on staying because 'the kids are a little biased towards Phantom, teens, you know,' and they wanted to keep the record straight.

The other two children had, with extreme reluctance, gone home. His sister, however, had refused to leave, saying that she knew just as much about things at the school as Danny, and they might as well question her at the same time. Collins couldn't really argue with that, and he had elbowed Paterson when she tried.

Daniel looked very small and meek against the large armchair he was perched on. Nothing at all like Phantom, who projected personality and confidence even when nervous.

Collins could see how he had gotten away with... whatever he had gotten away with... for so long. He still wasn't entirely convinced that Fenton was Phantom. It seemed pretty incredible, and there wasn't any physical evidence. Especially with the body gone.

Paterson took out a pad of paper and a recorder. "Do you mind if I record this?" she asked. "For record keeping purposes."

"Not at all!" said Jack, grinning. "We're glad to be of help!"

Daniel looked at the recorder as if he thought he'd be ill. He looked pale. Almost green. Was that because he was a ghost, or was he really just that nervous?

"Alright," said Collins. "Do you see Phantom around Casper High?"

"Not really," said Daniel.

"Everyone does," said Jasmine.

The siblings glanced at each other.

"I try to stay away from the ghost fights," said Daniel, shrugging.

"Yes. Your classmates seem to think that you have some kind of sixth sense, as you always leave class right before an attack."

Daniel's eyebrows pinched together in genuine confusion. "They think what?" He shook his head. "I just leave when I need to go," he said.

Paterson looked up from her notepad. "Go as in...?"

"You know, go," said Daniel, a blush dusting his features with pink.

"I see," said Paterson. Daniel blushed harder.

"Have you ever spoken to Phantom?" asked Collins.

"Yes," said Jasmine, crisply, to murmurs of disapproval from her parents. "He saved me from from Spectra. The ghost who masqueraded as a psychologist."

"I remember that," said Paterson. "Old Elroy had that case." It was from before the existence of ghosts had been widely accepted, even in Amity Park. "You were one of her victims?"

"I'm the one she tried to blow up."

"Ah," said Collins. "And what did you talk about?"

"With Spectra?"

"With Phantom."

"Nothing much," said Jasmine. "Not that I remember, anyway. It was over a year ago."

"Try to remember," said Collins.

Jasmine shrugged. "I think it was basically just agreeing that Spectra was terrible."

"Have you had any other interactions with Phantom?"

"None worth mentioning," said Jasmine.

What a strange way to phrase that. Collins decided not to call her on it, yet. Even with Paterson pointedly poking his ankle with her toe.

"Daniel, what about you?"

"It's Danny," the boy corrected. "I've never really talked to him. Unless you want to count things like 'look out!'"

"Nothing about his origins, then?"

"No?" said Danny.

"Have you heard anything about his origins from anywhere else?"

"We already told you about that," interrupted Maddie, frowning. "His origins are unknown, but he's existed for hundreds of years, at a minimum."

"Yes, but we'd like to hear from Danny and Jasmine," said Collins, giving Maddie his best professional smile. He turned back to Danny, expectantly.

"Someone once told me they thought he was a plague doctor, but, like, updated. I don't remember who, though."

"Right," said Collins. "Now, we'd like you to think back to about two years ago. Call it late summer, early fall. Did anything strange happen around that time?"

"Yeah," said Danny. "The Lunch Lady attacked the school for the first time. I don't remember the exact date, but it was right before the meat-vegetable protests."

"It was that early?" asked Collins, surprised. "That's months before the first recorded attack! Are you sure there was a ghost?"

"Pretty sure, yeah," said Danny, crossing his arms.

"Hey! That's about when we saw Phantom for the first time!" exclaimed Jack.

"Is it?" asked Collins.

"Yeah! He stole our prototype Fenton thermos! I still don't understand how he got it working." The last was a grumble.

"Interesting. And did anything strange happen other than that? Anything out of the norm?"

"Well," said Maddie, thoughtful, "we got our portal working about a month before that. Danny did, anyway."

"Did he? How?"

"Knocked a loose wire back into place!" boomed Jack, laughing. "That's my boy."

Danny's face was whey-colored again. Interesting.

Oh, hell. The portal definitely had something to do with all of this, didn't it.

"How does your portal work, exactly, anyway?"

"Excellent question!"

Fifteen minutes later, Collins had no better idea of how their portal worked except that it involved a great deal of ectoplasm and electricity, both of which they had found on the corpse. He couldn't help but think that he had finally discovered how Phantom had died.

And hearing Jack and Maddie, the boy's parents talk about the portal with such obvious pride while Danny squirmed in the armchair, looking for an escape...

"Thank you," said Collins, quickly, while Jack drew a breath. "I think that's all we need for today."

"But-" started Paterson.

"It's really all we need," repeated Collins. He saw Danny relax, marginally. "Just one more thing. Do you know anything about the break in at the city morgue last night?"

Various expressions flicked over the Fentons' faces. Jack's and Maddie's were blank. Danny's was was angry. Jasmine's was, surprisingly, guilty.

Did she steal the body? Collins would have never guessed it. The image she presented was too neat and mannered.

"Was it a ghost?" asked Maddie. "I'm afraid we can't do anything about it, otherwise."

"Right," said Collins. "We'll contact you if that evolves to be the case. And-"

"Oh, I can't take it anymore!" exclaimed Paterson. She pointed at Danny. "Are you Phantom?"

Danny jumped about a foot. "Wh-What? Nooooooooo. No, I'm not Phantom. I'm alive, aren't I?"

Damn. If that wasn't all but a confession.

The other Fentons started to laugh. The adults heartily. Jasmine uneasily.

"You've been listening to what's-his-name, haven't you? The West boy?"

"Weston," corrected Maddie. "No matter how many times we explained things to him..." She sighed. "I think there's something wrong with him, to be honest. But just to assuage your doubts..." She stood up and walked over to Danny. "Danny, do you mind."

"Nope," said Danny, standing up and holding out his wrist.

Maddie beckoned the detectives forward. "Here," she said, "feel this." She tapped her fingers on Danny's wrist.

"Go ahead," said Danny, staring up at him with a mix of apprehension and determination.

Collins put his fingers on Danny's wrist, on his pulse point. Danny's skin was smooth and cool, but not at all corpselike, or what Collins imagined a ghost would feel like.

"I have a pulse," said Danny. "Ghosts don't." Sure enough, Collins' fingers detected a slow but steady thump thump thump.

Maddie nodded. "Their closest equivalent is more of a constant rush. I could explain the science... but you were just leaving."

"Yes. Sorry about that. My partner can be a bit susceptible to conspiracy theories. I had to talk her out of hiring a psychic, once."

"Thank goodness you did," said Maddie, smiling. "Almost all psychics are fake."

"They don't believe it," said Danny, watching the detectives pull away from the curb below from the window of his room.

"Mom and dad? Of course not," said Jazz. "They won't believe you're Phantom unless you show them outright."

"No, the detectives. They don't believe I'm human. They still think I'm Phantom."

"Danny," said Jazz, cautiously. "Don't do anything rash."

"It isn't like I can make this any worse," said Danny. "I'm going to talk to them."

"What was that?" complained Paterson. "I never tried to hire a psychic!"

"Yeah, but you did agree that we wouldn't out Phantom in front of his parents. He said he doesn't want his family to know about him, and I don't want an angry ghost trying to throttle me! He can bench press a bus! I don't want his hands anywhere near my throat." He inhaled deeply and sighed. "At least we know what did him in."

"Do you?" asked a very cold voice.

It was a testament to Collins' steely nerves and rigorous police training that he didn't immediately crash the car upon finding a ghost in the back seat. Paterson nearly threw herself out of the car.

"Hi, Phantom," he said, instead, looking at the young ghost in the rear view mirror. "I don't suppose you know what happened to your body."

The ghost scowled. "It wasn't me. I told you to stop messing with stuff."

"Who, then? Your sister?"

Phantom's scowl deepened to something like rage. "Leave her out of this."

"Oh, god, you really are Fenton," said Paterson.

In her defense, Collins hadn't completely believed it, either.

Varied emotions passed over the ghost's face. "Come on, you don't believe Wes, do you?"

"There's other evidence," said Collins, voice wavering just a little. "I don't know how you're keeping up a pulse, or the rest of your human disguise, but you died in that portal, didn't you?"

Phantom was silent for a moment, then he reached through Paterson's chair and neatly plucked her recorder from her jacket, along with her phone. He tossed the phone into the seat next to him and crushed the recorder. Then he started riffling through Collins' pockets.

"Is that really necessary?" asked Collins. He guided the car to the side of the road and put it into park.

"You made it necessary," said Phantom. He pulled out Collins' phone as well and gave it a once over. "Look," he said. "I'm sort of," he paused, "upset that you guys dug up my body and then freaking lost it."

"Lost it-"

"Fine. Got it stolen from you by one of my enemies. One of my most dangerous enemies. Okay? Happy? Are you starting to understand why I wanted this left alone?"

"Are you trying to say that this isn't about your family not knowing you're dead?" asked Collins.

"Of course it's about that!" exclaimed Phantom. "It's just about half a dozen other things at the same time! You knowing about me could get me killed. Knowing about me could get you killed. The only reason Wes isn't dead is because he's completely ridiculous and no one believes him! You're credible!"

"By that enemy you mentioned?" asked Paterson, having regained some composure.

"Yeah," said Phantom. "He's got an interest in it not getting out."

"Why?" asked Paterson.

"Reasons," said Phantom, stubbornly.

"Does he have the same thing going on as you?"

Phantom crossed his arms and shrugged.

"One second," said Collins, "what do you mean, kill you? You're already dead."

"It's a figure of speech," mumbled Phantom. "Either way, the GIW would be more than happy to cut me open. Do you have any idea what they do to ghosts?"

"You- you're not actually dead, are you?" asked Collins. "Holy-"

"Yes, I am," said Phantom, quickly.

"How did you manage the pulse trick, then?"

"Lots of ghosts can do that. My parents don't know everything."

"You're a terrible liar. How the hell does that work? This- Ghost powers while alive?"

"I am dead," repeated Phantom. "How do you explain the body?"

"Half of it was missing," said Paterson.

Silence.

"I'm begging you to let this go," said Phantom. "People are going to get hurt. I'm going to get hurt."

"You don't think we'd let the GIW have you?" asked Paterson.

"I don't think it's a matter of 'let.' I-" he sighed and buried his face in his hands. "Ugh, I can't believe I made this even worse. What are you going to do?"

"We-" said Collins. Honestly, he had no idea. He looked at Paterson, who shrugged. "It isn't up to us, it's up to the captain."

"You can't tell more people!"

"Then you tell him. Come with us," said Paterson. "It's just one more, and he knows all of our suspicions, anyway." That wasn't completely true.

"If you really wanted to convince us not to, you could tell us more about your terrible enemy who may or may not be like you."

Phantom shook his head. "It's not worth it," he said, floating halfway out of his seat. "I'm going home."

"Wait," said Collins. "Your accident- It really was an accident, wasn't it? Your parents didn't-"

Phantom's face scrunched up. "Of course it was an accident. I was messing around someplace I shouldn't have been because of a dare. Are we done, now? Right up until you decide to ruin what's left of my life, anyway."

"Do you have a cell phone?" asked Paterson. "So we can call you, instead of your parents, if necessary." She offered up her notepad.

Phantom jerked it out of her hands and scrawled something on the paper. "Goodbye," he said, shortly, before flying out of the car.

Paterson swore, loudly.

"Yeah," agreed Collins. "Yeah."

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2020 #day 26

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hevoyeurs · 3 years

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hetricks:

𝙹𝙸𝚆𝙾𝙾𝙽 𝙿𝙴𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙽𝚈’𝚂 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳𝙴𝚁 with vague interest at what he’s holding ; of course, if Danny is holding it at all, he’ll be too happy to share it with the idol. Narrowed eyes flicker over the photo with amusement — Danny had always been a little bit OLD FASHIONED after all, & the vintage sheen of the Polaroid is beautiful, if not EERIE. But perhaps that’s the point, isn’t it ? Danny’s smile certainly says so. & the reaction that the picture pulls from him is contagious. The miserable twist of the corpse’s face makes Jiwoon’s stomach do a giddy little loop, & a lopsided grin follows on his face when he looks to his killer.

❝ 𝑉𝑒𝑟𝑦. ❞ Comes the simple reply, & Jiwoon glances back at the picture for one more moment before reaching to pat an affectionate palm against the side of Danny’s head. He is a special kind, that’s for certain — dragging evidence around with him everywhere he goes. But perhaps that’s part of the rush, for him. & really, doesn’t Jiwoon do the same ? The screams in his music are just DISTORTED enough to obscure proof from a detective’s eye.

Jiwoon leans against the back of Danny’s chair, lazily draping an arm over his shoulder as he peers back down towards his wallet with an unsated curiosity. ❝ 𝐷𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 ? ❞

He knows Jiwoon will understand. There are so few who understand the artistry, the thrill of what Danny does. The mementos he keeps from his victims are sometimes even more thrilling than the moment his knife plunges into them, and the post-murder selfie is a ritual he simply cannot pass on. Over the years he has amassed quite the collection of damning evidence, and each risk he takes with them is another absolutely irreplaceable thrill. Jiwoon is the same. Where Danny savours the sight of his victims, Jiwoon clings to the sound, shares it with the world, lets it work them up to a frenzy without realising what they are listening to.

It’s beautiful. Danny respects it, but he would never dream of sharing his own memories so widely. His are so precious, shared only with himself and those he holds the closest.

The way Danny looks at the photo is endearing bordering on obsessive. Even when he leans his head gently against Jiwoon’s, he cannot tear his eyes away. “No,” he answers plainly, distracted, rubbing his thumb against the already-worn edges of the photograph. “He was my first. But...” Carefully folding the photo, Danny tucks it away again, then digs his finger into the clear plastic pocket where his driver’s license is, tugging it and two other cards out. On top is JED OLSEN, the one he displays to the world. The one on the bottoms belongs to DANNY JOHNSON, the man Jiwoon knows. Between the two is a familiar face — the other man in the polariod, his lips pressed together, not quite smiling in his official photo. “He was alive when they took this,” Danny says, and there’s something almost affectionate in his voice. “I hold onto it. Keep it safe. It seemed a shame to leave it.”

#hetricks #𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞. / v. main

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does-this-look-logicality-to-you · 3 years

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3 and 17 for the fluffy prompts with prinxiety maybe? I love them too much for my own good lol -King anon from your other blog

hello king anon! i’m still not completely convinced you’re not kat, who loves prinxiety probably more than she loves me, but regardless i hope you like this! i’m sorry it’s been so long since you sent this, i

words: 1455 universe: human au characters: Virgil, Roman; mentions of Patton pairings: romantic prinxiety; mentions of platonic moxiety warnings: kissing, otherwise nothing prompts: “i’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.” and “a fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face.”

“Virgil. Virgil, it’s time to wake up.”

Virgil rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. “Gimme ten more minutes, Patt. It’s the weekend.”

“Who said anything about Patt?” Virgil took the pillow off his head and sat up. Sitting there beside him was no other than Roman, wearing a wide grin.

“Bah! Roman!” Virgil threw his pillow at him, alarmed. “Nobody’s allowed to see me without my eyeshadow!”

Roman caught the pillow easily. “I think you look absolutely lovely without it.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t.” He got out of bed, rubbing his eyes.

Roman pointed at the sweatshirt Virgil had on. “Oh, that’s where my favorite hoodie went!”

Virgil felt his face go red. He’d taken it from Roman’s apartment a few months ago, and had been using it as a pajama shirt ever since. It was comfortable, and it smelled like him. “Sorry…”

“No, it’s fine! You can keep it.”

“But it’s your favorite.”

“I can always get a new one. Besides, it looks good on you.”

“Whatever. Can you let me change, please?”

“Go ahead.”

“I mean alone.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“Roman, I swear to God.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going! Sheesh, you’re so mean!” Roman pouted, but Virgil just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Sorry, darling, it’s my job.”

“Just go.”

“Fine.” Roman stood up dramatically, making Virgil snicker, and left the room.

Alone at last, Virgil started getting ready. He slipped out of his pajamas and headed toward his dresser, taking out his favorite t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. He grabbed his usual black-and-purple hoodie before heading into his and Patton’s shared bathroom. Falling into his daily routine, Virgil turned on the faucet to heat the water as he ran a comb through his hair. When the water was hot, he doused a washcloth and washed his face, then dried it with the towel that hung on his side. He decided to go for a simple makeup look today, complete with his signature black eyeshadow on the lower lid. Satisfied, he ran his hand through his hair a few times before leaving the bathroom and heading into the kitchen.

Roman was waiting for him there, leaning against the counter and sipping a cup of coffee. He had already poured Virgil his own mug. Upon taking a sip, he saw that Roman had prepared it exactly how he liked it, with the perfect amount of milk and sugar. He sat on the counter next to his boyfriend. “Okay, Princey, this time you’re off the hook.”

“Was I ever on the hook?”

“I’d say breaking into my house while I’m asleep definitely puts you on the hook.”

“Patton gave me the spare key months ago!”

“Yeah, but you at least could have waited until I was awake.”

“I couldn’t wait that long.”

“Why are you even here?”

“I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. Why couldn’t you have at least waited for a more reasonable time?” He used the phrase “reasonable time” loosely, as he normally woke up around noon on the weekends.

“Because I missed you, of course.”

“Roman, I saw you yesterday.”

“Yes, but it had been so long since then!”

Virgil shook his head, finishing off his coffee. “My God, you’re such a drama queen.”

“I won’t deny it. Now, may I have my hugs and kisses, please?” He turned to look at Virgil with his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes.

He feigned exasperation. “Okay, fine.”

Roman pumped his fist in victory

“You didn’t need the puppy-dog eyes, though,” Virgil told him. “Patton’s the only one who can make that work.”

“Oh, you love it.”

“Whatever. C’mon, follow me.” He hopped off the counter, put his mug down by the sink, and headed over to the living room, motioning for Roman to follow. As the other came over to him, Virgil pulled a thick blanket from a trunk by the couch. When Roman reached him, he patted the cushion beside him. His boyfriend beamed and sat next to him, cuddling up to him. Virgil grabbed the remote from the arm of the couch before draping the blanket over them. “What do you wanna watch?”

“I think you know my answer.”

“Yeah, I think I do. Just making sure.” He switched the TV to Disney+, and Roman cheered. “Which movie?”

“Princess and the Frog, of course! I know that’s your favorite.”

“My favorite’s Nightmare Before Christmas, dumbass.”

“It isn’t technically a Disney movie. It was originally released by Touchstone Pictures, because Disney didn’t think it’d do well, and they only bought it out once it succeeded. Besides, we aren’t going to watch a Christmas movie in the middle of February.”

“It’s March. Besides, it’s a Halloween movie!”

“No, it isn’t. It has ‘Christmas’ in the name!”

“So?”

“So it’s a Christmas movie!”

“No the Hell it is not!”

“Prove it!”

“Where does Jack Skellington live?”

“Halloweentown, but-”

“There you go.”

“That isn’t nearly enough proof.”

“Oh yeah?” Virgil whipped his phone out of his pocket. “Let’s settle this.” He opened Google and typed the words “is nightmare before christmas a halloween movie”. “Ah-ha!” He began reading off the first result. “‘In 2017, director Selick definitively declared “it's a Halloween movie” during a Q&A at Colorado's Telluride Horror Show film festival, while two years later composer Danny Elfman told USA Today, “It's obviously about Christmas, but for me, it's a Halloween movie.”’ Boom. I win. Who’s the Disney buff now?”

“Fine, I’ll give you that. It still isn’t Disney, though.”

“Neither are Pixar movies.”

“Are we going to keep arguing about this, or are we going to watch Princess and the Frog?”

Virgil laughed, giving a sigh of mock-indignation. Roman had been right before; he did love Princess and the Frog, often claiming it to be where Disney reached its peak. “Fine.” He opened the “search” tab and typed in simply “the princ”. As he’d expected, the movie they’d been looking for was one of the first results. He clicked on it and clicked play, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and pulling the blanket tighter around them.

The two of them hardly let go of one another for the entire movie. They entertained themselves by making commentary poking fun at the plot and characters— all in good fun, of course. During the more stressful and nerve-wracking scenes, Roman distracted him by peppering his face with kisses. In contrast, when the more romantic scenes came on, the two of them held one another close as if their lives depended on it. It was nice, spending time together in a casual setting like this.

The movie soon reached the end. “A fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face,” Roman said happily as they watched the montage of Tiana and Naveen build their new lives set to Tiana’s interpretation of “Down In New Orleans”.

“Too bad most fairytales don’t have happy endings, and most of the ones that do were changed to be more suitable for kids.”

Roman gently elbowed him in the ribs. “Oh, don’t ruin this for me.”

“That’s kinda my job. Ruining things, I mean.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.”

“I’m not. That’s your department.”

He gasped in mock-offense. “Excuse you! I am not silly! Dramatic, yes, but never silly.”

“Whatever you say,” Virgil replied, giving him a smirk.

“Oh, you stop that!” Roman took his boyfriend by the front of his shirt and kissed him firmly, softening it when Virgil returned it and moved his hand up to tangle it in the other’s hair. Roman started to move into his lap, only to be shoved off.

Virgil broke the kiss. “Not a chance,” he said, gesturing to his legs. “There’s no way these tiny thighs can handle your weight.”

Roman just shook his head and kissed him again, this time pulling Virgil onto his own lap. “That’s better,” he mumbled into the kiss.

When they finally pulled away, Roman reached for the remote. “Do you want to watch another movie?”

“Only if it’s Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“We already discussed this, My Chemical Romantic Interest. That’s a Halloween movie.”

“My Chemical Romantic Interest?”

“What?”

“That’s the dumbest nickname so far. And anyway, time is a social construct. We don’t have to wait until October to watch a Halloween movie, especially not when it’s the best Halloween movie out of all of them.”

“Hmm... you have a point. Fine, I guess I can’t argue with you. So, are we gonna watch Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“We are.”

“Good answer.” He pulled up the movie and, snuggling close to his boyfriend, watched the movie in a comfortable silence.

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lanuvolanera · 3 years

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Sept 19th - Confession

Chapter 3 - end

---------------

Powered up from their meals earlier, the four gather in the Fenton lab, all ingredients for the trap and scripts for the ritual ready for use. They head for the warehouse.

-----------------------------------------------

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I don't think we have a choice."

"Should we go over the plan one last time?"

"Okay, so, Danny and Tucker, you two scout around the warehouse while me and Jazz set up the trap in the centre." Sam says while sorting through her books in her lap.

"Tucker, if you can hack into the old security system while I get an aerial view, we should be able to cover more ground that way."

"Don't worry, I'm way ahead of you." Tucker says with a grin and a handful of wires sticking out from one of his pockets.

"Do you think this'll work?" Jazz questioned without glancing away from the road.

"It has to. The wails can be heard in a miles radius. If we can't tackle it, then maybe mom and dad might be able to, instead." Danny says in the passenger seat.

They near the warehouse and Jazz pulls the car to a stop. Clambering out of the car, Jazz and Sam begun unloading all of the gear.

"Danny, there's a second floor office that has the security system on the south side of the building." Tucker says this as Jazz and Sam finish collecting everything they need. Looks like everyone's ready.

Danny transforms.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Tucker's feet lightly land on the wood floor of the second story office, and got to work on the computer sitting all alone on the desk.

Phantom took his que to phase through the wall to reach the warehouses main room.

From the corner of his eye, he spots Sam and Jazz making their way through the main entrance and start setting the trap in the middle of the large clearning at the front of the building.

So far, he hasn't sensed any presence of ectoplasm, nothing seems out of place.

He sinks to the ground.

Steady bleeps could be heard from the small handheld machines in Jazz's hands, and soft whirs coming from various Fenton weapons from Sam's. The soft noises breaking the eerie silence of the warehouse, drumming around in his head along with his heatbeat.

"Testing. Testing. Are these things on?"

"Jesus, Tucker!" Danny nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Oh sorry, did I just scare you?" Tucker asks with slight amusement in his staticy voice, filtering thought the Fenton phones.

"Uh, no." Danny scoffs.

"Don't worry, Danny, I got spooked too." Jazz says, sympathetically.

"Does anyone have a visual?" Sam asks, taking the focus away from Danny's panic. Thank you, Sam!

"I've managed to get into the cctv, there's nothing on the live feed so far. I've just looked at yesterday's footage and it shows our ghost roaming the southwestern corner of the room. You might wanna check there."

"I'm on my way."

Taking light steps, Danny peeks around the corners of the large shelving before deciding its clear to proceed. He soon finds himself against the back wall.

There's nothing here.

What the hell?

Phasing through the wall, he takes a look at the outside area. Still nothing.

Floating up to the roof, and still nothing.

"Is anyone else having any luck?"

"Uh, Danny?"

It's Tucker. Danny, in his mild panic, quickly phases though the roof into the office he'd left Tucker in. He spots him taking cover behind the desk and floats over.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? Have you seen anything?" Questions of concern spilling from Danny's mouth.

Tucker slowly raises a shaking hand and points a finger to the area facing Danny's back.

Dread sunk lower and heavier in Danny's stomach, his already pale face beginning to drip with a cold sweat. He turns around.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Arranged neatly on the floor are the crystals Sam brought, sitting in a circle and ready to be sprung. So long as Danny doesn't get caught in the crossfire, everything should go according to plan.

Grabbing a torch and the ritual book, Sam quickly gets to the dogeared page and skims through the text.

Meanwhile Jazz prepares the handful of fenton weapons, keeping a close eye on her surroundings.

It's more quiet than she's anticipated, surely they would've seen this ghost by now.

A loud crash echoes through the large room, both Sam and Jazz snap their heads up in the direction of the upper floor office. Sam can't leave the trap unattended, otherwise she'd shoot up the staircase and assess the situation. A glance at Jazz was all that was needed, Jazz read the unspoken words and ran across the clearing.

And that's when Jazz sees it.

The black teeth, the sludge-like blood, the holes and tears. No wonder Danny looked so spooked. Jazz stood halfway up the staircase, frozen in fear.

They were right. This creature is something else.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Looming over Danny, the ghost screeched in his face as he tried to scramble away. Having been slammed into the maze of shelves, Danny regained control over his mind and body. The ghost seems to be dampening his rational thought, striking fear into all who take sight.

So long as Tucker is safe, all that matters is keeping his friends away from harm.

With that thought, Danny manifests ecto-energy into his palms and fires. Swooping around the room, doing barrel rolls and loop-de-loops. The ghost takes chase, leaving scorch marks on the walls and shelves.

Jazz and Tucker take aim. They're unable to fire when Danny leads the ghost though the roof and into the night sky. And so they too give chase.

Left alone in the clearing, all sound of the ghost fight muffled through the walls, Sam waits with baited breath.

-------‐------------------------------------------------------------

Danny has a plan.

Well, sort of.

This ghost shows no sign of slowing down, hot on Danny's heels. High above the warehouse in the night sky, Danny takes to a dive.

"Sam, get ready, I'm leading the ghost into the trap in 5."

The ghost is catching up, the fear and dread oozing from its aura has little affect on Danny at that speed.

"4."

Sam remains alert, her hands tightening around the open book, the ritual ready and waiting, her nerves fried.

"3."

Jazz and Tucker sprint back to the entrance of the warehouse, weary of the ectoblasts falling from the sky.

"2."

Danny nears the ground, so he begins to level, aiming for the wall of the warehouse and estimating the location of the trap.

Phasing through the wall, a flash of light brightens up the room, and Danny Fenton tumbles to a sophisticated roll on the opposite side of the trap, coming to a stop with that classic superhero pose.

It worked.

The trap was a success.

The four gather a round the trap, holding the ghost frozen in the air like a prehistoric creature trapped in Amber.

Sam gets to work.

Words spilling out of her mouth in quick succession, all in an unfamiliar language. Word after word, sentence after sentence, the spell begins to take affect.

The ghost begins to sink to the ground within the trap, the glow of the stones encasing the figure within.

Sam's voice gets louder and louder to accommodate the loud shrieking tearing through the creatures throat.

Jazz and Tucker have the smudge sticks lit in their hands, whether they work or not, who knows? More protection, the better.

Soon the floor begins to crack, billowing hot smoke from in-between. The screeching intensifies and the feeling of dread weighs down on their shoulders.

It seems like forever, but in a matter of seconds, the deed is done. The crack in the floor widened into a deep chasm, blowing smoke and hellfire onto the figure above, burning it to a crisp. The ashes gently fluttered down into the pit despite the violent thrashing of the ghost. The trap is weakening.

And then, it's all over. Nothing remains other than the stench of the smoke. No one dared move. No one dared breathe.

"Is it gone?"

"I think so."

Simultaneous sighs of relief filled the room, tension released from their shoulders. The four started clearing up their things.

Tucker and Jazz make a start towards the exit, Sam lags behind and gently rests her hand on Danny's arm.

"Hey, Danny? You did great." Sam says to him in a hushed tone.

"You too, Sam. What you did was amazing." The wide smile on Danny's face told her everything. The relief, the happiness, she finds comfort in that smile. A wide smile begins to spread on her own face.

Tucker not so subtly clears his throat by the entrance. What a sight the pair must look, standing there oogling into each others eyes. The pair start to blush, they glance away, Danny rubs the back of his neck. They head for the exit.

Piling into Jazz's car, they make their way back to Fentonworks.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the trio make their way to school, although not the traditional way.

Soaring high in the sky, Danny's arms wrapped around Tucker's and Sam's waist, feeling the wind blow into their hair, feeling weightless.

It's a short lived feeling, because now they've arrived.

Landing on the school roof, Danny transforms and gently sets his friends down, releasing them from his grasp.

"Thanks for the ride, man. C'mon, we don't wanna be late." Tucker says while making a beeline for the rooftops exit.

"You go on ahead, Tuck. We won't be a minute." Sam says. Tucker nods and dissappears from view.

Sam turns back to Danny and wraps her arms around his neck, bringing him forward. Danny returns the gesture, wrapping his own arms around her waist, bringing them together into a warm hug.

"Thanks for trusting me, Danny."

"There's no need to thank me, you're my best friend. What would I do without you?"

They remain in the embrace for a short while. Danny leaves a sweet kiss on Sam's cheek before breaking apart. Hand in hand, they make their way to their first class of a brand new day.

#dp shiptember 2021 #danny phantom #sam manson #tucker foley #amethyst ocean

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years

Text

Ectober Day 18: Ancient - Adulting: But Ghostly Chap. 2: The Chronic Age Changer

Screwing up in the Fenton Lab was a pretty normal regular thing, but screwing up in such a way to botch someone’s age and humanness without actually changing said age and humanness was a weird one. The trio mess with the school, ClockWork messes with everyone, and Danny? Well, he is the mess.

Sam and Tucker are effectively ransacking Danny’s closet for clothing. Considering he was the only one that worn clothing in the triple XL size even though he was a medium on a good day. Though Sam has some fish netting to work with, shit was stretchy as Hell. So she cut out the crotch of a pair to make for a decent long sleeve fishnet crop top. Thank the Zone her bra cup size hadn’t changed. She’d also ripped up one of Danny’s older SlipKnot shirts -why did he even have this? He didn’t listen to SlipKnot?- and fashioned a nice skirt out of it with safety pins. The arm sleeves made for nice little pockets. And by nice, she means bigger that what girls' clothing usually came with.

Tucker was pretty well feeling stuck with a pinstriped green sweater and Tripp pants that were way too bloody long. Oh well, the bottoms were already torn to shit. In fact, did Danny own anything that wasn’t in questionable to piss poor condition?

The two turning to Danny, rolling their eyes at him still wearing the sweater sweats combination from yesterday. Him nodding curtly at the mirror, “this will have to do”, before turning to his friends and jabbing a thumb towards the door. Both of them walking out with him to go get breakfast.

Maddie grins at the trio of ‘teens’, “sleep well? No problems with your bodies?”.

Danny grins, “nope”, and honestly? It’s a pure miracle he wasn’t wakened up by some ghost or another. Sam and Tucker both immediately pointing at Danny and nodding. Maddie grinning at them, “good. I’d like to give you guys a very quick check over before you head out though. If that’s alright?”, while setting the pancakes down on the table.

The trio glance at each other and shrug. Looking to the Fenton Matriarch and speaking in unison, “sure”, making her smile more as everyone -mostly Tucker- starts stuffing their faces.

The whole getting checked over thing had been smooth sailing and show precisely zero change, which was technically good. More or less anyway. Maddie waving bye to them as they head out the doors. Danny glances between his to friends, “so, the shit you telling your folks? Because I doubt just not going home even resembles a plan”.

Sam rolls her eyes at him, “that’s literally one of your emergency plans”.

“Sam, no one is going to try murdering us over this”, Danny tilts his head, “or at least now that we don’t look like ghosts anymore”. Tucker inspects his hand, “actually I think we do but the spray stuff just cast some illusion shit”.

“Tuck, if that were the case then my hair would feel like fire. It does not feel like fire”. Both his friends grimace slightly but nod in agreement. Though Tucker hums, “I think the illusion includes feeling. Because that would be one mind fuck otherwise”. Sam just groans loudly, effectively communicating that he should shut the fuck up.

Danny rolls his eyes, “anyway, I’m going to run off and see Clocky pretty well as soon as we’re out of sight of FentonWorks. Not like school matters much for me and they can’t be bothered calling my folks any more”.

Tucker points at him, “and we still can’t decide if that’s depressing or not. Though yeah, you go do that”. Sam nodding, “and really? This ‘adult’ thing could easily be used as an excuse why you’re not there and a reasonable one at that”.

Danny blinks, genuinely looking pleasantly surprised, “huh. Who would have thought I ever would have a really good excuse to use?”.

The other two deadpanning, “no one”.

Tucker throwing his hands behind his head, “but who the heck’s going to believe this at first anyway? I’m mean I know I’ve always been good looking but this? Ho boy those poor ladies”. Sam predictably smacks him.

Danny shoves Tucker gently, “honestly man?”, pointing at Sam, “it’s her that’s gonna shock people. Ancients, just the hair alone will shock”. Sam lifting up the end of her hair and muttering, “true. This is going to annoy the heck out of me”, which everyone’s laughs at a little.

Danny glances around before saluting his friends, “whelp, I’m off. Enjoy the Hell of school!”, then switching to an almost comically singsong voice, “🎵Well I’m off to see the wizard🎵“, then promptly falls through a purple portal.

Sam blinks, “I still can’t believe they respond to that”. Tucker snickers, “eh they just like making him break out into song randomly”. Sam just snorts at that as they turn to go the little ways further before entering the school doors to death-Hell.

Danny stretches his arms up before dropping them and grinning wide as he spots his mentor, who looks fairly pleased with themselves. “Enjoying the view?”.

“Very much so, Daniel”, ClockWork turns to him and changes to their child form, moving to shit on his shoulder. Danny eyeing them and chuckling, “damn Clockpops, you are tiny. I mean, you usually are in this form but now it’s like, extra tiny”. ClockWork just chuckles faintly, their small smile growing ever so slightly. Which makes Danny smiles himself before gesturing his hands up and down himself, “so....about this....”.

Meanwhile. Sam and Tucker walk down the Casperhigh halls getting stared at by every person which was only making the pair of them smirking. None of the teachers looked to be trying to stop them, so obviously Danny’s folks went and called the school. Which was surprisingly responsible coming from them. Neither are surprised when Valerie’s the first to ask what the literal fuck is going on here.

Valerie slams her locker closed as the two come up next to her to open their lockers. She looks them up and down, managing to sigh and scowl at the same time, “okay. What did Danny’s crazy parents do know?”.

Sam points at Tucker and blocks his face off with the locker door, “actually it’s bad luck Tuck’s fault”.

“They invented the stupid spray stuff! And they’re the ones who didn’t make an undo button!”.

Sam outright ignores him. “He knocked over some spray stuff that made us look like adults. The hair’s pissing me off, wanna help me whack it off in the bathroom?”. She didn’t seem to have nerves -ghost nerves but still- in her hair now, so it should be fine.

Tucker sticks his head over, “well I think I look great”, and nods curtly. Sam muttering, “switch places and then we’ll see how you would feel”. Which makes Tucker tilt his head, “I’d be a girl then. Which could be fun”, which of course gets him immediately slapped by both girls.

Valerie grabs Sam’s arm and starts dragging her off to the bathrooms, scowling, “looks like you’re only physically adults”. Making Sam laugh as they get into the bathroom, while Valerie produces a pair of scissors from somewhere. No one bothered questioning how or where she always magically seemed to get sharp pointy things. Sam and Tucker though, are pretty sure her suit just makes them with its nanobots.

Paulina and Star glance over and watch the scene of Valerie yanking out one of the under sink stools and starting to hack at Sam’s hair. Both popular girls grimacing. Paulina eventually sighs, “okay no, machetona (tomboy) honey. You use scissors like peinabombillas (someone who combs light bulbs); are you trying to make her a complete pescada (butterface)?”, and stalks over, Star leaning against the counter.

Valerie and Sam both turn to roll their eyes at the popular girl, “are you offering to cut my hair? You?”.

Paulina rolls her eyes and huffs, but it’s a dainty pretty huff, “well you can’t have hair longer than mine. Think of how that would make me look? Basura (garbage). And I’m in here so people will simply assume I was involved in this current hair disaster, which would be even worse to be associated with. I want to be a hair fashion hairdresser you know. After all-”, flipping her silky smooth flawless hair, “-clearly I know a thing or two”.

Sam and Valerie exchanges glances, speaking in unison, “figures”, but Valerie does push the stool over to be in front of the mirror. Paulina producing her own scissor from her purse, they’re small nail scissors though.

Paulina looking her over and humming, “pixie cut that’s a little more high fashion? That would piss that annoying mother of yours”, it was no secret, the entire student body hated Pamela Manson, though Sam has no idea how they all still didn’t know her family was stinking rich. Neither did Tucker, Valerie, or Danny. But considering the school still hadn’t figured Danny out, they were probably just supremely oblivious... or stupid.

Star taps her chin gently, “if we had clippers then an undercut would really do it”.

“Her hair is thick enough for it”.

Both popular girls blink at Valerie producing one, Sam snickering, “I’m all for this. Fuck my hair up”.

Paulina sighs but motions for Valerie to come over and starts pointing out where to shave and where -for the love of everything- not to. Star speaking up again while digging in her purse, “well could also put that red moulding paste on the tips of a spikier look”, looking at Sam and Valerie, “we brought it for the boys to look more intense at the game”.

Paulina hums, “pretty sure Dash just wants to mess Fenton’s hair up with it”, pointing at Sam and Valerie, “but you didn’t hear that from me, chica (girl)”.

Valerie tilts her head at Sam, “where is that boy anyway?”. While Sam scowls at Paulina but answers Valerie, “doing shit with his parents to fix this. Also-”, pointing at the bottle of red, “-why not”, smirking, “I wouldn’t recommend going after Danny though. I doubt Dash could even reach Danny’s hair effectively”.

Valerie blinks and laughs, almost fucking up with the clippers, “so the shortest boy in the school is now the tallest? That is hilarious”. Sam just smirks.

The clipper noises wind up attracting curious girls in which just leads to a hair party in the bathroom. None giving a damn about first block. Meanwhile, the teachers are all just very confused and annoyed. They’d heard one or two of the Defect Quartet were involved though and thusly stayed the Hell away. Especially since none of them knew where Daniel was, meaning he might be involved. Mrs. Suspensekee was the most on edge about that considering she had both male halves of the quartet in her biology class and only one was here, his feet up on Daniel’s chair and getting his facial hair ogled by all the boys around; he was clearly enjoying it very much.

Kwan looks overly excited as he speaks, “goddamn that’s so manly! You guys so have to sneak this stuff to school. I want to know adult me too!”, which predictably encourages a round of cheers.

Tucker waves everyone off like he’s calming a group of cheering fangirls, “now now, it only works around Danny and does more than just adultify you”, finger-gunning stupidly, “also ghostifies you but we fixed that, not without getting a face full of ecto-weapons though”. That absolutely makes the entire class cringe, some even experiencing flashbacks to their own unfortunate run-ins with armed Fenton’s.

Jesse waves him off right back, “dude, I’m down to see ghost me too”, which gets more cheering. Nobody questioning why this stuff only works around Danny, he was weird, that was practically expected. Jesse pointing at him, “and does Danny have facial hair too?”, because honestly? no one could imagine that.

Tucker laughs, because again with the fire hair, not that he’s going to mention that. He’s not about to Danny-dude dirty like that, “he totally took after his ‘uncle’ for that. Rocking a spikey goatee”. He’s also pretty sure he saw Danny put his hair back in a low ponytail without even realising he was kinda copying Vlad. Maybe adult Danny looking slightly Vlad-like was a sign the guy’s current trend of not being a villainous psycho constantly was going to be a long term thing. Vlad surprisingly didn’t suck at being a mayor. Guy might get re-elected without overshadowing everyone. He knows Danny’s so going to have to have a talk with him over where all the funds came from to keep up with town repairs. Vlad was an experienced bank robber after all.

Mrs. Suspensekee has to snap for the class to pay attention at this point or nothing’s going to get done.

Danny blinks at ClockWork, “you’re joking? Seriously?”, and bends over laughing.

“Indeed I am, they were quite upset”.

Danny laughs some more, “to be fair, Dan getting free and looking human would be pretty upsetting”, sighing, “not that I really appreciate that I look just like him”.

ClockWork doesn’t look away from their screens, “he is you, Daniel. Personalities and choices may differ but genetics and bodies seldom do. You’ll have his suit too, excluding his cape, as an adult ghost as well”, continuing over the boys groan, “it is far better than the green accented monstrosity another timeline featured”.

Danny tilts his head, “oh? That bad?”, and walks over. ClockWork changing the screens to show him and Danny instantly cringes, “okay yeah that’s bad. Why would I do that? What would make me think that looks good? What’s up with the lines all over my neck? Ancients that clashes horribly. And what’s even the point of the wrist blaster? I can shoot ecto-beams already. And the green circle over my crotch? I don’t even want to know. Ew”. ClockWork chuckles lightly and nods in agreement.

ClockWork floats around and fiddles with things some, “how your suit looks isn’t truly up to you I’m afraid. It is much like your skin, a natural part of you that will grow and develop as you do. A human can alter the appearance by tanning or dying their hair, but it never truly changes. Ghosts, however, can not truly alter their base form at all beyond putting things on”.

Danny nods, “like Ember putting clothing over top or Skulker’s suit, right?”.

“Precisely”. ClockWork turns to face him, “now for your current appearance-based predicament, unfortunately your parents are correct, Daniel. This is not something they can correct. Unless of course, you feel like being a full human again”.

Danny immediately blurting out, “Zone no”, honestly? he probably couldn’t handle being a regular human again. Having to actually open doors to go through them? The shame. Having to walk everywhere? How barbaric. ClockWork smirks, “as I thought”.

Danny sighs and slumps down into the purple plush couch, leaning his head back comfortably, “so I’m stuck with this then?”.

ClockWork hums, “think about Dan and I believe you’ll come up with something”. Which makes Danny groan and grumble about never getting straight answers. “Though to answer your friends concerns, no this hardly damages time in anyway”, floating over and wagging their finger in his face, “if it did I would have showed up before your parents saw and that spray would have mysteriously disappeared”. Danny nods and waves his hands around, acknowledging that that was probably pretty accurate and probably should have been obvious to him. ClockWork does something close to a fond sigh and pats his head.

Both turning to the sound of shots, “CLOCKWORK!”. ClockWork turning to Danny, “sounds like it’s time you head back”, holding up a finger, “and I think I might just join you”, promptly changing to their child form and unzipping Danny’s backpack.

Danny screws his face up and starts laughing at ClockWork sticking their small head out of the open top, Danny picking up the backpack, “you know, I don’t think there’s a such thing as bring your ghost to school day, but fuck it, I’m making one”, both of them smirking while Danny puts on his backpack and ClockWork spins their staff to make a portal. The two disappearing through it over the backdrop of screaming Observants.

Tucker knocks over his third pan in home ec, tilting his head back and sighing, “being tall is slowly becoming a pain in the ass”.

Ms. Relish sighs, “language, Tucker. Though yes, I would appreciate only having one student that damages practically everything they touch”. Tucker holds up the pan, “but I didn’t dent it?”.

“Which thank you for, but do try to be.. more...”, the teacher trails off as a freaking giant of a man walks in.

Tucker looks around at everyone with a wicked grin splitting across his face, eventually bending over and laughing his ass off at Ms. Relish muttering, “hot damn”.

Danny makes a few facial expressions before settling on a smirk, “why Ms. Relish are you hitting on a student?”, and gives a very overacted charming smile. The teacher chokes, while the rest of the class put together the context clues and scream, “FENTON!”.

Danny bows dramatically, “the one and only”. Then moves to join Tucker, swinging his backpack off his shoulder as he goes. Tucker actually has to sit down on the ground to wheeze when freaking ClockWork pokes their head and arms out, resting their arms on the top of the backpack and throwing a small subtle smirk Tucker’s way.

Practically half the class mutters, “oh yeah that is so Fenton. The fuck is that kid doing”. While Danny waves everyone off over his shoulder, “ignore the little guy, they’re helping sort out some issues in exchange for hiding them from some ghosts annoying them”. The entire class blink at him and shrug after a bit, because come on? it’s Fenton. Lily grumbling, “of course he’d strike a bargain with a ghost”.

Tucker gets up and eyes Danny, “eyeballs?”, while the rest of the class continue to eyeball Danny; and Tucker a little bit but they were at least somewhat used to the guy being tall and sporting dreads. Danny being a brick shit house was a whole different story.

Danny has a ridiculously hard time keeping a straight face as he helps Tucker make the little stir fry dish -like always he was banned from actually touching the food due to multiple ‘food coming to life’ incidences- as everyone starts whispering.

“I can’t believe that’s Fenton, I feel like I’m committing a sin by saying he looks actually good”.

“Do you think literally anyone disagrees? ‘Cause the teach is totally right, damn. Puberty is gonna full body fuck Danny. Hot damn”.

“What the heck caused him to be so.. muscly though?”.

“I honestly wouldn’t even believe this if his dad wasn’t, like, the size of a freaking double-wide door. That man’s bigger than my little buggy car”.

“His dad could also throw your car. And have you seen his mom? Saw them at the swimming pool once and she had a solid pack of abs. Nice rack too”.

“Dude, no. How many times have I told you not to go after people’s moms”.

“Fuck. He could crush my head like a watermelon”.

“I just want to know if he even can use the muscles. Or is it just a looks muscular thing?”.

“Who cares. All I care about is seeing Dash and those other jock jerks cry and go home weeping and begging into their pillows to look like that someday”.

“I’m telling you, Dash is gonna have a beer belly. Totally gonna happen. And what? You gonna climb up to their windows to watch? Break in to collect their tears?”.

“Yes”.

“Doesn't your dad work for a Modeling agency? Should totally sneak a photo and get them to snatch him up early. Age matters you know”.

“Amber... you just want photos”.

“So?”.

“Think I should ask him if he, like, has some secret workout routine he does? ‘Cause no way that all built up in two or so years”.

“Dude, he probably doesn’t even know what he did to get that. You’ve seen that skinny ass twink in gym class, he does not work out. Probably started doing it hardcore after Dash really pissed him off or something”.

“Even if he did freaking steroids he wouldn’t build up that much muscle in two years, you idiot. And the kid makes a point to never change in front of others. Maybe he’s got stuff going on under his baggy ass clothing”.

“Oh fuck, wait, so you think that’s why he wears baggy ass shit? To hide it? But why the Zone would he do that?”.

“Why the Zone did he agree to bring a ghost to school? Why the Zone did he eat a screaming ghost Hot Dog? Why the Zone does he do anything. Don’t question Fenton logic, man”.

“Oh this so has to be his parents fault. Maybe started forcing him to work out to be a hunter. Not like his sisters going to take over their company or whatever”.

“His friends are all pretty fit too though, so must be some kind of group effort”.

“Goth chics always been fit af though. Tucker’s is surprising though. So maybe”.

“Oh whatever, I am so subscribing to whatever the fuck the Fenton family workout is”.

“Its ghost hunting, idiot. Wait, you don’t think-”.

Danny decides to butt in randomly at that, before people start getting ideas, “we have a helmet ghost fighting simulator thing. Makes for an okay workout on low mode”. Tucker pats his shoulder, seeing as the trio knew he never used that thing. No, all this was actual ghost fighting. Danny’s weird-ass biology probably played a part though. Danny was way more muscular than Tucker thinks a person actually can be. Someone would have to dedicate their life to being a muscle builder to achieve something close to this probably.

One of the girls hums, “they should sell that then. ‘Cause clearly it works. Mr. I Could Throw An Entire Brick Wall At Someones Face”.

“That is oddly specific”.

“Could he not?”.

“I didn’t say I was disagreeing”.

Tucker elbows Danny, “Sam got her hair cut by the way. She’s rocking the undercut again”. Danny quirks an eyebrow, “by who??? You cut like you’re drunk and Valerie is more experienced with curly hair I think”.

“Paulina”, Tucker raises and lowers his eyebrows rapidly with a smirk. While Danny raises both of his own eyebrows, “well damn, didn’t see that coming”.

ClockWork gives a cheery, “I did”. Earning chuckles and eyerolls.

ClockWork pipes up again after a while, pointing at the stove, “you're about to burn your food”. Tucker jumping a little, “what? Oh shit!”, and yanks the pan off the stove promptly burning himself and thus shoving it at Danny in a panic, “here! Mr. Cold Touch”. Though due to Tucker’s longer arms he winds up smashing the pan into Danny’s chest and dumping everything on his chest.

Danny stares down at the steaming stir fry covering his chest before dropping his arms to the side -one hand holding the hot pan and thus dropping whatever was actually left in the pan onto the floor- and gives Tucker a deadpan look, “really?”. Tucker bends over laughing immediately, though giving Danny his hand to chill; which Danny takes with an eye roll while mouthing, “you fucker”, down at ClockWork.

Ms. Relish walks over with a sigh, “put the pan in the sink before you burn yourself. And obviously I can’t mark this, but at least it’s not burnt”, that last bit sounds a bit sarcastic. So both boys shrug awkwardly at her; Danny does throw the pan in the sink though. ClockWork just smirks more, which the teacher makes a face at.

No one is surprised when Ms. Relish shoos the boys out, “I've had enough of your destructive tendencies. Out you go”. Though when Danny mumbles, “nice, now I can go change my stir fry covered shirt -fuck you Tuck”, everyone shoots up and over to the door. The teacher sighing and putting her head in her hands as the gaggle of teens poke their heads out the door and shush each other.

Danny and Tucker have their backs to the door but obviously know they’re being watched. Tucker elbowing Danny, whispering, “looks like you’ve got some adoring fans to please”. Danny blinks at him, “I feel like a stripper”, even ClockWork chuckles faintly as Danny hands off his backpack to Tucker.

Literally everyone gapes as Danny pulls off his shirt, rolls his shoulders, balls the shirt up like he’s very used to getting his shirts very messy, and looks over his shoulder to wink at them. Both Danny and Tucker bending over laughing right after while a couple girls fake faint, putting their arm over their foreheads and everything. The noise getting another teacher to stick his head out the door and sputtering in disbelief at Danny. “The Picture Of Dorian Gray! Put on a shirt Mr. Fenton!”.

Danny and Tucker exchange glances. Tucker chuckling, “I like how he doesn’t even need to question who you are”. While ClockWork pulls out a shirt from the backpack and hands it over. Mr. Lancer looking to the tiny ghost, “and for the love of Frankenstein, why do you have a pet ghost?”. The two boys absolutely laugh over that.

Valerie chokes in art class after checking her phone, someone having posted a photo of who was apparently Danny and with his clearly messy sweater off halfway. The sweater at least looks like something he owned. Her blurting out, “Danny what the fuck!?!? And how?!?!?”. Mrs. Remi just smiles to herself, Danny was one very interesting student to have. She likes interesting though. Oh yes she does as she watches him rush through the door, “I’m not late!”. Of course he actually was but she currently doesn’t care.

Basically the whole class sputters disbelievingly at the boy but not over his comment.

“WHAT!”.

“Oh Zone that wasn’t a photo edit”.

“Why do you have Thor’s voice? Better yet why do you get to have Thor’s voice?”.

“Holy damn”.

Mrs. Remi stands up, putting her hands on her desk and leaning towards the class, “alright, change of plans. Today we’re doing model studies”, pointing at Danny, “find a pair of shorts, a speedo, or strip”.

Danny blinks at her, “what???”.

She grins meanly, “it’s that or next month we’re having Mrs. Testlaff in here to do it”. The entire class immediately pales.

“Fenton get that sweater off now or so help me”.

“Dear Zone no”.

“For my sanity Fenton, please”.

Valerie stands up loudly, “off or I get the flamethrower. There are some things I don’t want to see”.

Danny just sighs, his life was some serious bullshit. Though Valerie might actually do that. Walking over to Valerie and dropping off his backpack, “you're watching them then, and not going murder happy”.

“What-”, Valerie cuts herself off at ClockWork popping their head out, also sticking out the end of their ghostly tail to wave. Valerie blinks, “what the fuck”. While ClockWork grins, “I’m providing the boy a little advice in exchange for some amusement. This has quite effectively infuriated some annoyances I have the slight misfortune of knowing”.

Valerie looks almost painfully slowly to Danny, “the fuck?”. Danny just smirks, finger-guns and disappears back out the door. Returning seconds later in shorts and just lets Mrs. Remi move him into poses all class.

Danny grumbles as class ends, “this was ridiculous and I feel judged”. Valerie walking over and shoving the backpack at him, “I don’t know why. Your body looks stupid good and that’s honestly freaky”, poking him after he pulls the backpack over his shoulder, “you are like a fucking rock. How, when, why”.

ClockWork pops out of the top of the backpack, “you are quite the rough one, aren’t you, Valerie Gray”. She squints at the ghost before looking to Danny’s face, “okay, and why did you tell It, them, whatever, my name?”.

Danny shrugs, “didn't need too”, glancing at ClockWork, who gives him zero sign to shut the fuck up, so he shrugs again, “they're omniscient”.

Valerie stares at him for a bit, “WHAT”. Making both boy and ghost chuckle and give slightly malicious looking smirks. Which she hits Danny over, “stop being creepy, and fuck, do you have fangs?”. Danny grins toothily over that. Her leaning up and forward, “well damn”. Making him laugh.

Danny readjusts his backpack to bring attention to ClockWork, who helps in that regard by messing up his hair, “and their all-knowingness is helping fix our ageing issues. Being all-knowing and shit, they know the fix which my parents do not”, glaring over his shoulder somewhat fondly, “not that the riddle has been all that helpful”.

Valerie blinks as they head to their last class, “so that’s why they’re with you? You’re bribing a ghost”.

“I already told you that. Less bribe, more equalish exchange of services. As for how this all happened”, gesturing his hand over himself as he skilfully avoids bumping into people, “pretty sure Sam and Tuck already explained”.

She scowls at him, “not that you idiot, the muscle. The height’s obviously your dad, but the rest? The Hell”. Danny honestly doesn’t know how to answer that, “well-”, he thankfully gets saved by Dash; which makes this probably the only time he’s happy to hear someone angrily shouting, “FENTON!”.

Danny very intentionally makes his voice noticeably deep and threatening sounding, “what?!?”, even putting a little fang into it. Even Valerie jerks a little.

Dash skids to a stop and just stares at him. So Danny quirks an eyebrow, sneering, “the fuck do you want, Dash?”. Dash blinks once, twice, and three times, “alright, I’ll bite. How?”, then scowling a little and seemingly regaining some of his lost bravado, “how’d a weak scrawny loser like you get to have this as your adult self or whatever your parents screwed up hairspray thing does”.

ClockWork leans over Danny’s shoulder, holding up a finger, “if I may, Daniel here is simply nice to you and lets you push him around. He’s been stronger than you for a while now”. Danny wants to smack ClockWork.

Dash immediately blurts out, “bullshit”. Danny rolls his eyes and points at Valerie, “Val could surplex you. It’s not that difficult. My dad can throw cars, Dash, and mom can kick a tree in half; this feels like this should have been expected”, rolling his hands, “and you’ve seen the shit Sam can do”.

Dash mutters at the ground, “that girl does scare me”, before looking back to Danny and glaring, “you ain’t no gym freak or anything, Fenton. Just a wimpy weak loser and losers don’t turn out like this. At best they wind up like the mayor, skinny suit-wearing and shit”.

Danny blinks and chuckles, “Dash? Vlad is lowkey ripped. Lean yeah, but he could whoop your ass so fast”.

Valerie gives him a funny look, “how do you know that?”.

Danny rubs his neck, “I may have been responsible for that whole incident where he got recorded on the news live naked”. ClockWork chuckles meanly while Valerie and Dash blurt out, “THAT WAS YOU!?!?”. Danny holds up a finger, “maybe. I’m not confirming or denying shit”.

Dash shakes his head and scowls, attempting to shoulder past Danny, who of course doesn’t move resulting in Dash muttering, “ow”, and very pointedly not rubbing his shoulder.

Valerie and Danny shake their heads but getting going to their class again. Valerie elbowing him as they sit down, “if your folks can’t make something to reverse this then why not something that can just make you guys able to change your physical ages at will or revert time to when you were younger”.

Danny blinks at her, “okay, how much thought did you put into that?”, that was actively creative and super out there. Ironic with ClockWork being here though.

She shrugs, “oh since Sam mentioned all this shit. Speaking of Sam”, she points at the door just as said goth strides through. Danny very pointedly looks her up and down, then whistling as she sits down. The faux hawk plus undercut did actually look good, the red tipping worked well too.

Sam rolls her eyes and shoves his head, then eyeballing ClockWork, “for the love of everything, why? Who are you trying to make suffer?”.

ClockWork looks to her and grins, waving a hand around, “everyone. I am rather Ancient, I get my kicks where I can”. Danny just chuckles.

After a while, Danny’s drumming his fingers on his desk and ignoring Mr. Trent’s constant glances. Thinking of it, Valerie had a decent idea. The time messing thing was probably a no go, somehow he doubts ClockWork would go for something like that. The age changing at will though...

Danny smacks his desk, “that’s it!”, making the entire class jump and snapping his desk in half. Him looking down at the broken desk, “shit sorry”. Mr. Trent just sighs and ClockWork pats his head. The whole class watching as he just shrugs and walks out of the class.

Sam, Valerie, and Tucker exchange looks and shrug. But Sam throws her hands up, Val chokes, and Tucker starts laughing as a little five foot four Danny saunters back in like the proudest thing ever with his clothing basically hanging off him. The rest of the class erupts into various freak-outs and descends into utter chaos. Mr. Trent is left grumbling, “I can’t wait till the lot of them get the Hell out of this entire school, please end my suffering”.

Sam scowling, “how?”. Danny smirks as he sits back down, leaning back, “modern problems, Ancient solutions”, leaning closer to Sam and Tucker, “also alternate timely ass could get up to all the age-related tomfuckery”.

They grimace a little but nod. Tucker throws his arm around Danny’s neck, suddenly noting how weird and funny it was how small he was, “guess we got to avoid your tiny ass now”.

Valerie looks at them and sighs, “do I even want to know?”.

The three exchange glances before smirking and speaking in unison, “no”; while the class continues to lose its collective shit in the background. How were they even supposed to explain that Danny’s evil older full ghost self could age shift meaning Danny just so happened to have that ability too? And that ClockWork, being a being that frequently age-shifted, was the best teacher, even if they basically did jack shit, for the ability? Plus, who would want to ruin the glorious beauty of the chaos going on around them right now with silly factual explanations? Bathe in the chaos. Accept that nothing makes sense. Regret baring witness to weirdo trio living up to their name. Worship Satan. Go nuts.

ClockWork, meanwhile, has slipped off comfortably back to their lair. Utterly unsurprised by the two Observants waiting for them with steam basically boiling off their eyes.

End

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wanderingcas · 4 years

Text

5 times Dean had work to do, and the one time he actually enjoyed it. pairing: dean/cas a commission for @jensenackhles <3 2k words

One

Dean first heard the phrase a few weeks after his mom died.

John had checked them into a motel—one of the many that they had cycled through in the past few weeks. Sam was asleep in the crib, and John was on the opposite bed. Dean had woken up to a strange sound; he rolled over and saw John at the foot of the bed, head bowed, shoulders shaking.

Dean had never seen his dad cry before. Even right after the fire, when he was telling the detectives what happened at the police station: completely dry-eyed. So seeing his dad cry was… strange. Dean wanted to make it stop.

He pushed back the sheets and hopped off the bed. Walking on unsteady, sleepy toddler legs to his dad, he put either hand on John’s knees, looking up at him. John was clutching a worn picture of Mary between his fingers.

“Are you okay, dad?” Dean asked.

John continued to stare at the picture of Mary’s smiling face. After a moment, he sniffed. Wiped his face that was striped with tears with the back of his hand. He ruffled Dean’s hair and said gruffly, “Yeah, kid. I’m fine. Get back to sleep, okay? We got work to do in the morning.”

And the next morning in the car, when Sam was crying in his carseat and kicking up a storm, Dean patted his head and said, “It’s okay, Sammy, shh. Stop crying. We got work to do, okay? So you can’t cry. We got to work.”

Sam just stared at him with big teary and trusting eyes. Dean didn’t even know what he was really saying at the time; what he was getting them into.

Two

He didn’t make it a habit to say the words out loud often. He said them more to himself, as a mantra to keep himself on track. But sometimes they would slip out, when he really needed to orient himself: when he really needed to kick his own ass into gear and push down the emotions.

The second time he remembers saying it was when he was 25. He was driving to a case with Danny, the son of one of John’s hunting friends. John was out of commission from a nasty encounter with a wendigo, so they were tag-teaming the ghoul hunt.

Dean felt his phone buzz, wedged between the driver’s seat and his leg. He pulled it up, glancing at it, just in case it was important. His stomach immediately sank when he saw Sam’s number.

Got to Stanford okay, in case you were wondering. Too hot here. Miss you and Dad.

The muscles in Dean’s jaw jumped as he clenched it tighter.

“Who’s that?” Danny asked, cocking his shotgun. “Somethin’ about the case?”

“No,” Dean said. He pulled into the driveway of the house where the hauntings were taking place. Eased the Impala into park. “Focus up,” he commanded, cocking his own gun aggressively. “We got work to do.”

Three

The seal to the gates of hell are open. Ruby tricked them, and Sam triggered the apocalypse.

Dean doesn’t know what to say.

History is repeated again, where Dean is sitting helplessly on one hotel bed, Sam crying on the other. He’s bent at the waist, shoulders hunched, tears silently streaming.

Dean knows that he’ll blame himself forever. He knows that this might break him.

He knows he needs to say something.

Getting up unsteadily, he walks over to the bed and sits down on the other side of his brother. The bed creaks from his weight. “C’mon, Sam,” he says into the silence. “We didn’t know, okay? We couldn’t have seen it coming.”

Sam remains silent, glaring at the ground.

A lead in his gut, Dean reaches out a hand, and places it on Sam’s shoulder. “We gotta keep going, okay? We just… we gotta keep fighting. We can’t just sit down and take it.”

“What’s the point, Dean?” Sam asks. He shrugs off Dean’s shoulder and twists around to glare at him. “Why even try, if I keep fucking everything up? Huh?”

“Because people need us, Sam,” Dean snaps. “We need to finish what we started. We gotta make sure the world is safe, okay? There’s no time to sit around and feel sorry for our damn selves.”

Sam stares at his hands, stonily silent.

Dean stands. Holds out a hand to his younger brother. “C’mon. We got work to do.”

Sam glares at Dean’s hand for a moment before sighing resignedly. He takes it, and stands.

Four

When Dean met Cas, a lot changed.

His view on angels not so much: he still thinks they’re a bunch of dicks. But the way that things aren’t always so black and white. That people—angels—can change. That Dean can maybe be… loved. Saved. Worthy of it.

At least Cas seems to think he’s worth it, anyway.

He tucks all these feelings into his back pocket; doesn’t want them to see the light of day. Because if they did… well. Then he would have more than his brother to be worried about. And in his line of work, any attachments are frankly a terrible decision.

Except, it’s Cas, and Dean can’t keep his eyes off him.

And he stares at Cas a lot. He knows he does; it’s almost like there’s a magnet that pulls his eyes to Cas’s face and stays there. Sam notices it; Cas notices it; everyone notices it. Dean just… can’t seem to help it.

Maybe it’s that otherworldly look that he always has on his face. Maybe it’s the perpetual five o’clock shadow that paints his sharp jaw. Maybe it’s because Cas is usually staring right back at him, all up in Dean’s personal space no matter how much Dean complains about it (even though he really doesn’t mind. Not at all. He’d love to have Cas even closer, actually).

Maybe it’s just because Dean has a damn crush on an angel and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“So, you’re sweet on my brother, huh?” Gabriel asks Dean with a leering grin.

Dean snaps his eyes back into the room instead of watching Cas’s back leave the room. “What the fuck? No.”

Across the room, Sam puts a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Dean wants to punch him so that he’ll finally respect his damn elders.

“Liar,” Gabriel says.

“C’mon, that weirdo? In a trenchcoat? What are you smoking?”

“He has a… jeno se qua,” Gabriel says with a wave of his hand in the air. “A certain sexiness, if you will.”

“I’m not sweet on him.” Dean can feel the blood rising in his cheeks, and he hates it.

“Sure, Dean-o.” Gabriel winks. “Sure.”

Cas walks back into the roomthen , looking adorably confused, and of course Dean’s blush increases. He tries to look casual as he leans against the wall with a glare, avoiding Cas’s eyes.

Sam sputters as he tries not to laugh at Gabriel batting his eyelashes in Cas’s direction.

“Okay, knock it off, you idiots,” Dean snaps. “We got work to do.”

Cas tilts his head in that adorable way, asking, “What do you want me to knock off, Dean?”

“Your pants,” says Gabriel casually.

Sam loses it then, bursting into laughter.

Five

The apocalypse is done. By some miracle, they all lived through it—Cas, Bobby, and even Sam, who managed to push Lucifer out before throwing him into the pit.

There’s no imminent danger, no immediate threat—which is probably why Sam decides to bring it up.

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?” Sam asks. They’re sitting at Bobby’s table, each nursing a beer. Sam is still exhausted from his encounter with Lucifer, so he’s not getting out to hunt much these days; they normally spend their nights like this, just soaking in the quiet before the next inevitable storm.

Dean looks at his brother incredulously. “What’re you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid,” Sam says. “I’m not an idiot, Dean. I see the way you look at him.”

Dean grumbles, sipping at his beer.

“Dean.” Sam sets his beer down. “The world is quiet. For once. The apocalypse is avoided, Michael and Lucifer are in the cage, just—there will be crap that comes up later. It can’t be avoided. But at least now, in this quiet moment, you can figure things out. With him.”

“Just leave it alone, Sam,” Dean sighs. He doesn’t even have the energy to argue with him anymore. Snatching his beer off the table, he says, “Think I’m gonna finish this outside.”

He ignores Sam’s worried eyes that follow him out of the house.

Leaning against the porch railing, he sips at his beer, glaring out into the salvage yard. Something familiar catches his eye: a figure wrapped in a trench coat, head tilted back and staring up at the stars.

Dean takes a steadying pull of beer before stomping down the porch steps. He stands next to Cas, the neck of his beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. Cas gives him a nod of acknowledgement before looking back up at the twinkling stars above them.

Clearing his throat, Dean says gruffly, “So, you thinkin’ of going back there?”

“Back there?” Cas asks.

“To, you know.” Dean waves his beer at the sky. “To Heaven.”

“Heaven is not in the sky, Dean,” Cas chides.

“Okay, whatever. Just answer the damn question: are you going back?”

Cas lifts one shoulder in barely a shrug. He looks at Dean then, blue eyes sparkling in the night. “I might not go back—if I have a reason to stay.”

“Well, you might have one,” Dean says. “There’s plenty more shit to take care of down here. Rumor has it Raphael is pissed about you rebelling against the apocalypse, so he’ll probably stir some shit up that you have to—”

“Dean.” Cas turns to him, suddenly very serious. “Do I have a reason to stay?”

Dean can feel his breath catch in his throat. He realizes that he could lie. Could laugh it off with a joke or a snarky comment, like he usually does. But he knows it’s now or never. Cas could leave. He’d do anything to stop that.

“Dean,” Cas says again. There’s a filter of emotion that comes through to his eyes—it looks like hope. That makes Dean crack.

“Maybe you do have a reason,” Dean says. “Maybe we want you to, I don’t know—stay.” He looks at the ground. “Maybe I want you to stay.”

Cas takes Dean’s hand. Dean’s heart rate increases as Cas rubs his thumb against Dean’s calloused knuckles. “I want to stay, too.”

“Good, that’s, uh.” Dean smiles wide. Steps closer to Cas so that their chests are nearly touching. “That’s good, Cas.”

Dean asks Cas to marry him six months later on the hood of the Impala, burgers and beers between them.

He doesn’t see the point in waiting when he just…. knows. Cas seems to know too, since Dean can barely get out the question before Cas is tackling him to the hood and kissing him senseless, whispering Yes between each breath.

Sam cries when they tell him. Of course. Bobby pretends not to get emotional, but Dean sees him wiping at his face a minute later. The angels are, of course, pissed—but Cas couldn’t care less.

Apparently Cas had been planning to ask Dean from the beginning—he and Charlie had even been making a wedding scrapbook with Charlie in the past few months.

Cas pulls out the scrapbook to show Dean the next morning, both in their pajamas and sitting at Bobby’s kitchen table. His cheeks are stained from embarrassment, unsure how Dean will take it.

But Dean finds it the least embarrassing thing in the world—he just flips through the pages and pages of wedding decorations, tuxes, and rings, and gets increasingly choked up. He almost loses it when he sees the Enochian words for “Forever” inscribed on a ring that Charlie made in photoshop as a mock-up.

Dean puts down his coffee, and kisses his fiance soundly. When he pulls back, Cas is smiling, bright as the rising sun.

Shutting the book, Dean stands, and grabs Cas’s hand with a wink. “Well, Cas. Looks like we got work to do.”

#<33 #thank you so much for commissioning me!!#this was so much fun to write #destiel #destiel fic #commission #tatiana requested i share this with you all <3

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kinglazrus · 4 years

Text

The Haunting of Danny Fenton

Phic phight 2020

Submitted by @ave-aria: Valerie Gray is Danny Fenton's Bodyguard AU (*can be Modern AU, Medieval AU, Corporate AU, Full Ghost AU, whatever)

Summary: Valerie knows Danny Fenton, everybody does. Youngest of the family, son and heir, future owner of Fenton Works. Notable for all those reasons and infamous for none of them. Where Maddie and Jack are the local quirks, Danny is the tragedy. And, for the next week, he's the Red Huntress' newest client.

Chapter One: Local Tragedies

Word count: 1988 | [ffn] [ao3] | [next]

Valerie doesn't know what to expect of the Fentons. She knows about them, everyone does, but she's never met them. At least not face to face. The Fentons aren't just citizens of Amity Park, they're a feature of it, like the statue of the city's founder on Main Street, or the novelty billboard that welcomes people into town. Amity Park wouldn’t be the same without them.

They send her a town car. At this point in her career—which admittedly isn't that far—it's standard practice, at least when dealing with richer clients. The aggressively middle class can't afford the car. The lower class can't afford her, which is why she does those jobs for free. No point robbing good people of their money when the Amity elite already pay her extravagantly.

The Fentons aren't exactly the extravagant type, but they're nothing to scoff at, either. On the outside, the car looks fairly normal. Sleek, black, freshly polished and so clean she could probably eat off the hood. It pulls up to her office building, stopping right outside the front doors, snug to the curb.

Valerie doesn't wait for the driver to get out before opening the back door herself. She thinks it's such a ridiculous practice. Are rich people so needy they can't open a door for themselves? With a shake of her head, she picks up her suitcase and slides into the car. She freezes.

Inside, it's nothing like any town car she's been in before. It has the standard four seats, two against the back, two against the front, turned to face each other, but otherwise, it lacks all expected luxuries. Instead of plush leather, the seats are basic vinyl with neoprene covers on top. The carpet is stripped away, replaced with metal panels. Computer screens bearing the Fenton Works logo cover the windows on the left side of the car. The small drink stations Valerie has grown used to over the past couple years are gone. In their place stands a compact computer console on one side of the car and a fully stocked weapons' rack on the other.

Valerie stares at it all, mouth gaping shamelessly, wondering what all of this says about the Fentons themselves. Are they showy? Practical? The number of guns—she counts six—seems unnecessary. But, thinking of her own arsenal compacted into thick bracers on her wrists and cuffs on her ankles, she knows there's no such thing as too many guns when it comes to ghost hunting.

The partition separating the driver from the passengers goes down. The driver turns to face her, and Valerie's mouth falls open even wider. There's no mistaking that red beanie, those bulky half-moon glasses, the impossibly turquoise eyes.

"Tucker Foley?" Valerie exclaims.

"The one and only!" Tucker grins. Turning all the way around, he leans over the partition, elbows braced on the seats facing Valerie. "Haven't seen you since graduation. Feels like yesterday."

"It was two years ago."

Tucker sighs wistfully. "Yesterday."

"You work for the Fentons now? As their driver?" Valerie asks. She always thought Tucker would go big into technology development, coding, something like that. Or become a wanted cybercriminal.

"Me? A driver? And waste all these good looks? Please." Tucker scoffs and waves a hand dismissively. "I run the computer division at Fenton Works. When I heard Mr. and Mrs. F were hiring you, I just had to come get you myself."

"You're twenty," Valerie says.

"Hey, cool, you still know how to count. That's a great skill."

"You're twenty, and you're running a whole division at Fenton Works?"

"You're twenty and you have your own security company," he points out.

"One person company.

"One person division." Tucker grins. "It's really just me and my computer. Cyber security against ghosts isn't a big field yet."

Valerie eyes Tucker, unsure how to respond. Whatever she expected, Tucker wasn't it. Now, she feels off-balance, like she's missing something important, and she hates that feeling. It shouldn't matter that much. Amity Park isn't a huge city; the chances of her running into a former classmate are rather high. But Tucker was prepared for Valerie, and she wasn't prepared for him. Childishly, she feels like she's at a disadvantage. Which is ridiculous because she's here to fight ghosts, not Tucker. But his sudden appearance has disarmed her so completely that, if a ghost were to attack right then, she would be too stunned to react.

"You should see the look on your face," Tucker says.

Valerie purses her lips and scowls, wiping away whatever amusing expression has Tucker giggling under his breath. "You should drive."

Tucker's laugh balloons into gleeful cackles as he turns back around. "Whatever you want, Ms. Grey!"

Valerie, fuming, slams her thumb on the partition button, rolling it back up. To her annoyance, she can still hear Tucker's infuriating laugh through the glass.

—

When Valerie says the Fentons are a feature of Amity Park, she really means their laboratory, Fenton Works. Don't get her wrong, Maddie and Jack Fenton are a sight all on their own. On any given day, they can be seen tearing down the street in their bulky weaponized RV, guns blazing, wearing their brightly coloured jumpsuits. Seeing them for the first time is quite the experience. You can easily spot nearby tourists by checking people's reactions to the Fentons.

But Fenton Works. Fenton Works is a monolith dedicated to every crackpot idea the Fentons have ever had. When Valerie was in high school, Fenton Works was a single townhouse standing proudly at the corner of Lady and Red, bearing an obnoxiously neon sign. Above it loomed a massive saucer-shaped structure covered in more satellites than the local news station. Back then, Valerie thought the townhouse was a leering giant. Nowadays, it's dwarfed by the massive warehouse that takes up the rest of the block.

"Damn," Valerie whispers, peering out the righthand window as they turns onto Lady Avenue.

Tucker lowers the partition. "Pretty cool, right?"

Valerie eyes the mural of ghosts decorating the side of the building. "It's something."

Rather than stopping in front of the townhouse, Tucker turns onto Red Crescent and loops around to the back of the facility. Along the avenue, the warehouse is built almost right up to the sidewalk. On this side, however, there's a wide parking lot and, oddly enough, a lush garden surrounding a pond.

"I'm not the only one who thinks that looks weird, right?" She points to the pond.

Tucker cranes his neck, following her finger, and chuckles. "Jazz asked her parents to put that in so that employees have somewhere 'calming' to go. There's a greenhouse up on the roof, too,"

Pressing her cheek to the window, Valerie tries to spot the aforementioned greenhouse, but they're too close to the building now for her to see it.

Tucker pulls into a reserved parking spot just across from the homely picket fence that surrounds the townhouse's backyard. Valerie officially has no idea what to think about the Fentons.

"Come on," Tucker says, throwing open his door. "Everyone's waiting for you."

Valerie grabs her suitcase and climbs out of the car, nudging the door shut behind her. "Everyone?" She looks over the car at Tucker.

He twirls the keychain around his finger. "You'll see."

Valerie expects him to head for the townhouse but, to her surprise, he pivots right and starts walking to the warehouse doors.

"Come on," he calls over his shoulder.

Valerie jogs after him, easily hoisting her suitcase in one hand, and ponders on what the inside the facility looks like. Crates of weapons stacked one on top of the other. An arsenal of ghost hunting vehicles, everything from their patented RV design to their one of a kind all-terrain bus. All-terrain meaning it flies in the human realm and the Ghost Zone. The ground can't stop you if you never touch it. She pictures an honest to god warehouse and prepares herself for exactly that sight when they reach the front doors.

The moment they go inside, however, Valerie promptly decides to never assume anything about the Fentons and how they operate ever again.

"Something wrong?" Tucker asks when he sees Valerie stuck in the doorway.

"No," she says honestly. "It's fine." She steps into the foyer, complete with a receptionist's desk, comfortable armchairs for waiting, and a few potted plants. Looking behind her, she sees floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the pond. Valerie could have sworn the walls were solid from the outside.

"Hey, Octavia." Tucker waves to the receptionist. Pulling a lanyard out of his pocket, he shows her an employee ID card. "I've got the nine o'clock."

"It's four in the afternoon," Octavia, a modest middle-aged woman, says without looking up from her computer.

"Time is relative. Val." Valerie stops gawking at the room and looks to Tucker. "You can leave your suitcase here, unless you need anything from it. Octavia can take it to the guest room."

"I can, but I won't," Octavia says. "They're in the Boom Room."

"Love you too, babe." Tucker clicks his tongue, shooting Octavia double finger-guns, and ducks through a doorway at the back of the room.

Valerie stands awkwardly in the middle of the foyer.

Octavia finally raises her head, giving Valerie a critical look. After a moment, she sighs and holds out her hand. "I'll take your bag. Trust me, Tucker'll be halfway across the building if you don't follow him now. That kid never looks back."

"Thank you." Valerie rushes over, passing her bag across the desk, and follows Tucker. On the other side of the door is a long plain hallway. She looks right, then left, but there's no sign of Tucker. She debates her chances of choosing a random direction and finding him by pure luck. Before she can decide, a long ding rings out. The noise draws her attention to a set of elevators down the hall on her left.

The doors open. Tucker pokes his head out. "Hurry up, slowpoke.

Valerie wonders if punching Tucker in the face will affect her paycheque. Just once. Just a small jab. She won't even break his nose. In the end, she decides not to risk it, settling on a fierce glare as she reaches the elevator.

"This is a big place, you don't want to get lost," Tucker says.

"Then don't leave me behind."

"Not my fault you're slow." Tucker hits the button for the third floor—third out of five.

What on Earth the Fentons need all this space for, Valerie has no idea. She tries to picture it, then remembers how her expectations keep getting smashed to pieces and thinks better of it. There will be lots of time to find out.

"Why Fenton Works?" Valerie asks, filling the silence.

Tucker rocks back on his heels and hums. "Ghost stuff is kind of cool. I get to pioneer a whole new area of cyber security that no one even realizes we need, and I'm not even done college yet. Working here helps me pay for my online classes, too, so I don't even have to leave Amity."

"Why? Sounds like you'd still have a job waiting for you when you graduate." She can't imagine Tucker spilling his cyber secrets to someone else before he can cultivate the field himself. Surely, then, the Fentons would need him on board, no matter how long he puts off working for them.

"Yeah," Tucker nods, "I would. But I'm staying for Danny."

The elevator chimes when they reach the third floor, the doors sliding open. Tucker glides through them without looking back, but Valerie hesitates once again. Danny—Daniel Fenton. She knows Daniel Fenton. Youngest of the lot, son and heir, future CEO of Fenton Works. Notable for all those reasons and infamous for none of them. Where Maddie and Jack are the local quirks, Danny is the tragedy.

#thdf #phic phight #phic phight 2020 #danny phantom #phanfic #phic #danny phantom fanfiction #valerie gray #bodyguard au #tumblroneshots #except it's not a oneshot

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