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If Danny knew taking the Dom-Sub Dynamics test was going to feel like the pre-CATs, he might have attempted to study for it. Regardless of the fact that, you know, it wasn’t really something he could study for.
Still, after two or more hours of filling in tiny bubbles and writing short paragraphs explaining his perceived reactions to certain situations and stimuli, he had come out of there with an achy hand and an official certificate of his early dynamic presentation.
A dynamic which his parents pondered over on the drive back home and a certificate which he set down next to Jazz’s elbow as he went after a bowl of Spooky-Os. “You were right.”
“Huh?” Jazz looked up from where she was making a meticulous timeline based on facts from the most recent 19 volumes of her personal diary. Her eyes dropped to his certificate when he motioned to it. She glanced at it, then did a double-take and snatched it up, examining it as if it were about to change in front of her eyes. “You’re a Sub?”
“According to the official DNS test,” Danny replied as he gave up on cereal when he found the cupboard empty and went for a banana instead. “Which, can I ask why they decided on an almost three-hour test for Subs and Neutrals, but a short Order test for Doms? That seems so unfair!”
“You can thank the Sub Protection Act of 1959 for that,” Jazz stated. “Progressive in many fields. Dynamics’ test? Not so much.”
“Of course,” Danny agreed morosely. “Politics.”
“I don’t understand though,” Jazz said as she gave his certificate another look. “If you’re a Sub, how did you ignore Sam’s Order? I know that Subs can train themselves to resist Dom Orders, but you haven’t been doing any kind of training like that!”
“From what I can tell? A fluke.” Danny bit into his snack. “She said ‘come here’, but I guess it was vague enough that I could consider ‘here’ to be ‘in the room’. Which I was already doing, so no need to obey further.”
“That makes sense… in a roundabout way.” Jazz frowned, but put the paper down and glanced back at her timeline. “So… I was right.”
“You were right,” Danny agreed.
Jazz’s brow furrowed as if she wanted to protest, but finding nothing, she just collapsed back in her seat, boneless. “Wish I’d known that before I started backtracking through my middle school years. The cringe is real.”
“And that’s my cue to leave.” Danny dumped his peel into the trash. “I’m going to Sam’s place. Let Mom and Dad know for me!”
An affirmative followed him out and into the sky.
The flight over was quick, since he’d gotten the hang of flying. It was only minutes later that he was flopping down beside Sam on her bed. She was curled up against one pillow, dark gothic book in hand. He laid crossways on the comforter, head near her hip where all she had to do was shift her gaze slightly to catch his eye.
“So? How’d it go?” she asked as she put her goth book away.
“Sub,” he declared. “Just like we knew it would be.”
“… I know it’s not what you wanted.”
“It wasn’t, but I’m getting better at dealing with it. What I’m not good at dealing with is the three-hour test and hand cramp that goes with it.” Danny flexed his hand again and rolled his wrist, as if that would loosen up his fingers. They still throbbed afterwards. "If this is any indication of what the CATs are going to be like, I might need to bring an ice pack with me on test day."
"Here, give me your hand." She reached out, but left him to close the distance.
"Uh… Why?" He questioned, even as he did as directed.
"I've been reading up on massages and their uses in medicine and physical therapy," Sam replied as she took his hand in hers. "I've been looking for a test subject."
Before Danny could get upset at being used as a Guinea pig, Sam dug her fingers into the base of his palm and —oh.
That was good.
That was really good.
"It’s important to push the blood back towards the heart," Sam muttered as she drew her thumb down his wrist towards his forearm. "This prevents clots from forming in the smaller vessels and causing damage to extremities."
Danny wasn't quite paying attention to what she was saying. Both because he didn’t have any particular interest in learning and the massage was more than a little distracting.
Her fingers danced over his hand, running over the hills of his fingers and valley of his palm. She pressed firmly, but not really hard, at the mound of his thumb, where he could feel the stiff tendon begin to flex and relax under her touch. The stretch as she maneuvered his fingers hurt, but it was a good hurt, like muscles after a good work out.
When his skin started to heat from the sensations, the glide of her fingers turned to stuttering drags. The unpleasant feeling didn’t last long though. A slight pause and she returned with a drop of oil that smoothed the motions again. By the smell of it, he was pretty sure it was one of her essential oil things. That, or she had been planning on this massage thing for a while.
"So how did your parents take it?" Sam asked. "I imagine they were surprised."
Fuck. She wanted him to talk? While she was doing that?
"Um…" He closed his eyes and pressed back against the bed and her hip. "Surprised. Yeah. But not terribly worried? If I heard them right, they decided the Portal accident scrambled my brain a bit and activated some latent genes."
"So… not too far off the mark, even if the logic doesn't quite match up." Sam laid his hand on his chest and tapped his shoulder. "Other hand. Might as well make them even."
He complied without complaint. What? It felt really good. "Honestly, I think they were relieved. An accident like that and no repercussions? They were probably worried something worse would happen down the line."
"What? Like getting your DNA splice with ectoplasm and being able to die on command?"
"Ha-ha. Very funny," Danny muttered, though not as petulantly as he had aimed. Sam had run her fingers between his, pressing at the delicate skin in the V of his knuckles. It caused him to exhale a little too quickly and turn his words a bit breathy as a consequence.
"But I can see their point," Sam said. "In the face of death, partial or full paralysis, limb loss or long-term pain —having a dynamic change really isn't a big deal."
"Not unless you're the one going through it," Danny grumbled.
"Hey…" She paused in her ministrations to lay a hand on his shoulder. "You know this doesn't really change anything, right? We can figure out limits and still get you what you need to be happy. There are lots of scenes that don't require pain or Orders."
"Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it." Danny let out a quiet sigh at the pleasant tingles in his hand. Both of them now felt like noodles. Like, if he had to use them, he might actually be upset.
"Hey, roll over," Sam ordered. Not an Order-order, so he could ignore it if he wanted, but it was hard to do so, since she kept tugging on his arm.
"Ngh…" he complained. He really didn’t want to move.
"Come on," she coaxed. "I want a larger surface area."
He let that idea settle for a second or two, then canceled his own gravity. On her next tug, his body followed effortlessly with the motion. At the peak of the turn, he re-activated gravity so that he flopped over onto the bed rather than floating off.
"Did you… did you just use your ghost powers to roll over in the laziest way possible?"
"Arms are noodles. Don't wanna move 'em."
"...That's fair."
Except now one of them was trapped under him and it was definitely going to go numb. Then he'd have unpleasant pins-and-needless instead of pleasant tingles. Maybe he could just…?
He made his arm intangible and felt it slip right through Sam's bed. With the absolute minimal amount of muscle movement, he pulled it up, onto the bed, and let his intangibility go.
"Let me guess: arms are noodles?"
"No, that one was just laziness."
"Ah, I see." She rolled her eyes. He knew she did. Even though he couldn’t see her where his face was smushed between her hip and the pillow she was resting in, he knew. It was Sam.
"Well, we have some more time to figure it out," she said as she moved to a better position and angle. "Apparently, fights between ghosts last a lot longer than fights between you and them."
"They bought into the tournament idea?" he asked in disbelief.
"Well, I only had to explain how it would keep other ghosts from interfering with their fights with you and they immediately signed up."
"That's… surprising," he said.
"Is it really? Ghosts are known for their possessiveness after all."
He wanted to make a retort like 'no, that's dragons’ or maybe 'but I'm not like that', but before he could, her hands were on him.
They dug into the meat of his shoulders, right on either side of his neck and drew down, following the ridges of his spine. She pressed up and out towards his shoulder blades as she worked her way up again. She repeated the circuit twice more before slowing to work on specific points. He wasn’t sure what her ideology was for picking those points, but he wasn't going to complain.
He also wasn't going to move for the next, like, three hours. Moving would definitely wreck whatever foggy, floaty place he'd found himself in and he was in no hurry to leave. Ever.
"I left Dora in charge of spectating, so I'm sure I'll hear back as soon as the first match is over with. It was between Skulker and Desiree, so I figured it would be over quickly. After all, Desiree isn't exactly able to use her powers all Willy-nilly. She needs a catalyst. So, I figured I'd give her one, just to make the fight a little more even, you know? I still think Skulker's gonna win, but we might be surprised."
Danny let the words wash over him, not bothering to really listen for anything more than tone. He was sure Sam would fill him in again later if he missed anything important. In the meantime, Sam had a nice voice. Very pretty. Very nice to listen to.
"Whatever the outcome, we'll have a scheduled time for ghost attacks now, so we can get you more time to sleep and study. We might even be able to save your second semester grades! And get your parents to let up on the curfew! Isn't that great, Danny?"
That was a question. A question that was actually looking for an answer… he thought so anyway. But words were hard with his mind as slow and goopy as it was. Like trying to think through molasses.
"Danny?"
He tried to pull together an answer, something coherent for her, but he couldn't focus enough to hear his own response.
"This is making you feel good, huh? It’s okay, you don't have to answer. Just relax and let yourself go for a bit. I'll be right here when you get back."
So, Danny did.
He dropped off and just let himself be in the moment, let himself feel.
And it was amazing.