Chapter Text
You dick around on the computer for a few more hours, watching a couple movies and making comments on them hoping that Dave will hear and you're not talking to yourself like an idiot, before finally getting up to make dinner. Dad is usually the one to deal with the cooking, but on nights like this when work keeps him him too long, you opt to reheat leftovers instead of risking setting fire to the house.
You learned your lesson from the last time.
You're just pulling the lasagna out of the oven when you hear the front door opening, setting out an extra spot on the table as your Dad walks into the kitchen, his jacket draped over his arm.
“How was your day, son?” You both begin to serve yourselves, your Dad giving you a moment to reply before beginning to eat, himself. You tell him your day was pretty boring for a Saturday, feeling a slight prickle of guilt at the lie until you push it back. It's so believable that you talked to the ghost that's been haunting you for the past few months. Because ghosts are obviously a thing. Ghosts can totally use the internet, it happens all the time and there is no way this is another attempt to try and raise my prankster's gambit. Ha.
Oh right, you almost forgot. You set down your fork on your plate, looking your Dad over for a second. Noticing your gaze, he sets his fork down as well. “Do you need something?”
“This is kinda stupid, but... Actually, it's really stupid when I think about it, but I realized something today.” Dad nods, encouraging you to continue. “Dad, what's your name?” His lip twitches into a smile for a second, and he picks his fork back up and continues cutting the pasta of his lasagna into tiny squares.
“What brought this on?” He asks, his tone amused. You copy his movements, cutting your food to keep your hands busy. “I don't know, I was just thinking today and I thought how weird it was that I don't know your name.” You shrug, turning attention to your task for a moment as you wait for him to respond.
“Samuel.” You grin at him, feeling a small sense of satisfaction as he smiles back. Did you hear that, Dave? You and Dad continue to chat until both of you are full, and you offer to take care of the dishes for him. He ruffles your hair in thanks, ignoring your yelps of protest before shuffling off to bed. You feel a faint buzz in your pocket as your phone alerts you to a message.
I honestly dont know what I expected
You grin, hoping Dave sees as you head off to bed.
///
When you wake up the next morning, Dad has already left for work. You shout out a “Good morning, Dave!” as you pour out your cereal, sitting down at the table. You fish your phone out of your pocket when it buzzes.
Morning hun
“Aren't you supposed to be saving up your energy or something?” You don't bother to respond over text this time.
I guess I just couldnt resist your hot bod
always got me coming back for more
you are the fix to my junkie
You curl up your nose. “Why do I feel like that's a euphemism for something?”
because it is
and also im kind of lonely
theres not a lot of people to talk to on this plane of existence I guess
youd think thered be more ghosts around getting their haunt on and shit but so far im the only one ive seen
You type out the next message, thoughtful.
You said it works better with physical contact, right?
Why you offering
yeah, I guess
I mean, it'll make you feel better, right?
And then we could actually talk! :B
are you sure bro
this would be me actually taking some of your life energy
but aren't you doing that right now?
…
good point
ok stay still this might feel weird
You stiffen up for a moment before you force yourself to relax. You try to fight off the urge to fidget as the seconds tick by before you feel it. It starts off as a tingle on our arm, steadily growing in strength until it feels like your entire body is vibrating. With a sudden lurch it feels like the ground shifts under your feet. You dart to the bathroom when you taste bile at the back of your throat, getting to the toilet just in time to upchuck your entire breakfast. You grimace as you flush and wash your mouth out with the water from the sink. You turn when you feel someone watching you, goosebumps prickling down your spine.
Standing in the doorway is a boy looking about your age, his face mostly obscured by a pair of dark aviators. You can tell through the faint red tint that seems to make him up that his hair is blonde, and if it weren't for the fact that you can see the other side of the hallway through his shirt and jeans, he would look... actually pretty normal. You notice that his forehead is creased slightly in what you can only guess is worry as you stagger to your feet, holding onto the counter for support as the room starts spinning. It's only when your head begins to clear that you notice he's talking.
“Shit, I should've gone slower I forgot that happens it's been so long since the last time I tried that, fuck. Are you okay?”
You grin at him. “It worked!” The crease disappears from his forehead, making him virtually expressionless even as an eyebrow quirks smoothly over his shades.
“I'm sorry to tell you that it did not, in fact, work. I've been lying to you this entire time. Turns out I'm actually a hallucination and you're crazy, congratulations.” You move past him back to the table, stumbling before you sit back down in the chair. You look him over again before it finally hits you. “Holy shit, you're a ghost!” What follows is the most unimpressed look you've ever seen sent your way.
“Really? All this time I thought I could pass through objects because I was just a special snowflake. The fact that I don't seem to age and nobody can usually see me suddenly makes a lot more sense now, too. Thanks for sharing this startling revelation, bro, it really helped me out. It's a plot-twist I never saw coming, Malcolm Crowe ain't got nothing on me.”
You smile sheepishly at him, heat faintly rising in your cheeks. Does this guy always talk like this? “Sorry! It's just, like I said before, I don't talk to ghosts every day.” He grumbles at that, but seems to accept it. “You know what's kind of funny? My old chat name used to be 'ghosty trickster'. I guess I was really into ghosts when I was younger?”
“Talk about ironic. That's some serious reach-around shit right there.” You laugh at that, bringing a hand up to your mouth to cover up your wonky teeth. You try to think of something else to say before this silence stretches out too long; you don't want him to think you don't like him!
“So,” he says, slouched over with his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Do you have something planned or are we just gonna be staring lovingly into each-others eyes for the rest of the day?”
“Oh!” You jump up, going to the couch and grabbing the remote, waving it at him. “We can always watch some TV?”
“Well, shit, man, let's watch some Discovery Channel.” You grin and sit down, patting the seat next to you. You flip to a nature documentary at Dave's request, and it's surprisingly fun when he makes his sometimes childish comments on the animals, usually having to do with their anatomy. After about twenty minutes of joking with each other, you glance at him to see the same crease you saw on his forehead before is back, and you can guess that he doesn't realize he's making it.
“Hey, are you okay dude?” He looks at you a moment before shrugging, turning back to the TV. “Daaaaave!” You whine, flopping to your side on the couch. “I'm not gonna stop bugging until you tell me!”
“Fine,” he says. “If you really want to know. I've only got a couple of minutes left until I have to go full ghost again.” You sit up.
“Why, didn't you get enough energy from me?” Shrug. So that's a no, then. “Dude, why didn't you tell me? All you have to do is ask.”
“Seriously, after what just happened you're willing to try again?” It's your turn to shrug this time.
“It wasn't that bad, and now that I know what to expect it'll be easier. And I could tell you didn't mean for that to happen. I trust you.” His expression falls into one of shocked disbelief before it snaps back into a poker face. You think it's kind of funny that he tries so hard to seem cool; from what you've seen so far he's just as dorky as you.
“Whatever, man. I'm not gonna turn down a free meal.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but a hint of something you think is gratefulness slips through. He shuffles closer to you, and when you shift to face him he places his hands on both of your shoulders.
It's a lot like the last time except the build-up is much slower, and he cuts off before the room can go back to spinning again. Dave looks much more solid now, not half as translucent as he was before, and he seems much more relaxed.
“See? Told you it would be fine!” You say, grinning widely. Dave huffs.
“Of course it was. It was me doing everything after all.” You laugh, smacking him in the shoulder, and you barely notice the small shivers that crawl up your arms at the touch. A little while later, after you've watched some more TV, you ask him if he wants something to eat or drink. It's only polite to ask a guest, after all!
Dave answers by keeping his face perfectly flat, then rising slowly several feet in the air.
You smack yourself in the face.