Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s funny, Dash thought. How sometimes you could look back and pinpoint the exact moments in your life that set you on the path to where you were today. Most of the time, you never even realized in the moment how significant it would be, but afterward, with the benefit of hindsight? It was like looking at a map, with each event marked out like stops along a train route.

The first such moment started out completely innocuously. Dash had been out for a late night jog, trying to take advantage of the last of the warmer autumn weather before the chill of winter started to set in. He’d had his headphones on, music cranked up high to drown out the sounds of traffic as he made his way down the sidewalk, completely zoned out. As a result, he didn’t notice the sounds of terrified screams and ectoblasts ringing through the air, sure signs of a ghost attack up ahead. He was already deep into the danger zone by the time he finally registered what was happening.

“Wha — oh shit!” he screamed, jumping back as a stray blast of ghostly energy scorched the pavement at his feet. He ripped the headphones off of his ears and stared up at the sky, his eyes wide and panicked. It took him a moment to spot the two ghosts flying overhead, but once he caught sight of them, the familiar black jumpsuit and head of snow white hair was easy to make out. Phantom’s opponent was a ghost Dash didn’t recognize, which either meant that Phantom would handle it no problem, or they were in for a new regular visitor to Amity Park. He just stood there for a moment, struck dumb, watching the pair dart around each other in the air, trading ectoblasts and one-liners.

But then another blast went wide and smashed through the shop window Dash was standing beside, and abruptly Dash’s survival instincts kicked in. He ran screaming for the nearest alleyway, ducking behind a dumpster for shelter.

And if it had been any other day, if it had been any other fight, that’s where Dash would have stayed, cowering in the shadows until the fight was over and it was safe to emerge. But this time, things went a little bit differently.

At first, when Dash heard the loud metallic clang, he thought it was just some spare debris getting blown into the alley to crash against the roof of the dumpster he was hiding behind. But then there was another clatter, and something silvery and cylindrical suddenly tumbled into Dash’s line of sight. He stared in blank amazement at the innocent object that practically rolled to a stop against his sneakers; like any Casper High student, he immediately recognized the familiar sight of Phantom’s ghost-capturing thermos. But what the heck was it doing here?

He had just started to reach for the thermos with shaky hands when he heard pounding footsteps just outside the alleyway. He whipped his head up just in time to see Sam Manson, one of the biggest losers at Casper High, rushing into the alleyway, her eyes searching frantically for something.

“There you are!” Manson shouted, before she snatched up the thermos. As she grabbed it off the ground, she caught sight of Dash hiding behind the dumpster, and her eyebrows shot up.

“Dash? What the heck are you doing here?” she asked, before giving herself a shake. “You know what, nevermind. Not important. Tucker! Tucker, I found it!”

Tucker Foley, one of the other members of the Casper High loser trio, appeared in the alley next, his usual red beret askew. “Awesome! Now how the heck do we get it back to Da — ”

“Phantom’s still in the sky, right?” Manson cut Foley off, her gaze flicking meaningfully towards Dash. Dash wasn’t sure what message she had been trying to convey, but Foley’s eyes went wide and he clammed up, nodding instead of speaking.

Manson bit out a curse. “Quick, check if any of these buildings have roof access. We need to get this back up to Phantom!”

Foley pulled out his little tablet, and started frantically typing away, but from the tight line of his lips, even Dash could guess what his answer would be. “No luck,” he said, confirming Dash’s suspicions. “Nothing we could use to get up there fast enough.”

“Ugh, and that stupid ghost is keeping him too busy to come down and get it,” Manson groaned. “How are we supposed to…” She trailed off.

Dash stiffened when he abruptly realized that she was staring at him now. “What?” he demanded, feeling defensive.

“Dash,” Manson said carefully. “How far can you throw a football? Accurately?”

Dash blinked, caught off guard by the question. Since when did Manson care about football? And what the hell did that have to do with anything?

Still, he was so startled, he found himself answering honestly. “At least fifty yards,” he said. “Easily.”

She grimaced, but held up Phantom’s thermos. “Think you can get this up to Phantom?”

Dash felt his jaw drop open. Was she serious? “You’re kidding, right? Of course I can!”

“Great,” she sighed, before shoving the thermos into his chest. He grunted, surprised by her strength, but grabbed the thermos instinctively as she let go. “Then get ready.”

Without waiting to make sure he actually was ready to go, she suddenly whirled and rushed to the opening of the alleyway, putting her fingers between her lips and letting out a loud whistle that would have made Ms. Tetslaff proud, before shouting up at the sky. “Phantom, incoming thermos!”

And hey, Dash was well aware he wasn’t the brightest bulb, but even he couldn’t miss a cue that obvious. So, stepping up next to Manson, he took a moment to take stock of the situation. His eyes quickly caught sight of Phantom hovering in the air above them, just above the lip of the five storey building across the street. He didn’t see any sign of the other ghost from where he was standing, but that didn’t mean it was far. Phantom was turned towards them, his attention drawn by Manson’s shout, his glowing eyes staring straight down at them.

Normally Dash would have taken the time to bask in having the local hero’s attention on him, but he’d been given a job to do; he had to make the throw. The usual calm that descended over him during football games made its appearance now, and Dash let out a slow breath as he calculated the distance, testing the weight of the thermos in his hand. It wouldn’t fly as straight and smoothly as a football — it wasn’t nearly as aerodynamic — but Dash was certain he could compensate for it.

He breathed in, his focus locked on Phantom’s chest, and then threw.

The thermos sailed through the air, straight and true as an arrow, and landed perfectly in Phantom’s waiting arms. And not a moment too soon, as the other ghost suddenly lunged out at Phantom from one of the nearby buildings, shrieking in rage. Phantom ripped the top of the thermos off and caught the ghost in its beam before it could finish its attack, his face tight with concentration as the ghost struggled and flailed, but ultimately failed to escape the thermos’ pull. As soon as it was sucked in, Phantom slammed the lid back on, trapping it safely inside.

Dash, Manson, and Foley erupted into cheers. “Yeah!” Dash hollered. “Way to go, Phantom!”

Phantom glanced down at them, and for a second Dash could have sworn that the teen ghost’s eyes lingered longer on him than the others. He tossed them a quick wave, and then was gone with a flick of his ghostly tail, vanishing along the rooftops.

“Wow. That was so cool!” Dash gushed, sharing a grin with Manson and Foley.

“Not bad, Baxter,” Manson commented, giving him a half smile and jabbing him lightly in the ribs.

He hissed and jolted away from her. It hadn’t actually hurt that much, but he’d suddenly remembered that these two were losers who he shouldn’t be giving the time of day. “Yeah, whatever, nerd. Of course I had to save the day. Who else was going to help Phantom, you guys?”

Manson’s expression flattened. “Wow, so much for that little moment of camaraderie.”

“Yeesh,” Foley agreed, wincing. “Yeah, that didn’t take long.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I guess you two weren’t completely useless,” Dash admitted, rolling his eyes. “Well, Manson wasn’t, at least. She came up with the idea. You did nothing, Foley.”

“Hey!” Foley shouted.

“Whatever dweebs, I’m out of here.” Dash pushed past them roughly, pulling his headphones back up over his ears. Now that the ghost fight was over and Phantom had vanished, there wasn’t much point in sticking around. He needed to get home and shower, anyways.

Still, the next day at school, when Dash passed by Manson and Foley by their lockers, he hesitated for a moment before ultimately deciding to let them go about their morning unscathed. They’d tried to help out Phantom, after all. They weren’t total wastes of space, if they were willing to run into a ghost fight to give Dash’s hero a hand. He could be lenient this one time.

He still made sure to let his backpack slam into Fenton’s head as he was walking by, just as the last member of the nerd trio had bent down to tie his shoe. Fenton hadn’t been there for the ghost attack, after all, probably hiding in some garbage can like the coward he was. Fenton was the biggest loser of the lot, and Dash was going to make sure he remembered it.

“Whoops, didn’t see you there, Fenturd,” Dash smirked as Fenton slowly picked himself off the ground.

“Good morning to you too, Dash,” Fenton groaned. Manson shot Dash a death glare, but he ignored it, already on his way to Kwan’s locker so he could fill his best friend in on how he’d saved Phantom’s ass during the latest ghost fight.

The second moment was several weeks and several ghost attacks later. The school had been hit this time, which wasn’t that unusual — ghosts seemed to hate Casper High in particular. It was right before the end of gym class, and Dash had been in the middle of returning all of the basketballs to the storage room for Ms. Tetslaff since she’d caught him giving Mikey a wedgie and needed to punish him somehow so that the school’s blatant favoritism wasn’t that obvious. He had just been throwing the mesh bag into the corner, when there was a loud crash just outside the room, and suddenly something was slamming into the shelves of sports equipment next to him.

He screamed and jumped back, the bag of basketballs spilling out across the floor, as the shelving unit creaked, groaned, and ultimately collapsed. Dash only had a moment to register that the something that had crashed into the shelves in the first place was Phantom before the whole thing came down in a shriek of twisting metal, right on top of the ghost’s head. Dash flung his arms up to protect his face from any flying debris, tripping over one of the loose basketballs and falling on his ass. He ended up curled up in a ball, whimpering and hoping he didn’t get smushed next.

After a moment, though, the sound of falling shelving finally stopped, leaving nothing but a ringing sound in Dash’s ears. When nothing else seemed to happen, he dared to lift his head. The storage room was a disaster, shelving all knocked down and broken, loose sports equipment strewn about. But what was most alarming was the sight of a white glove, streaked green with spilled ectoplasm, sticking limply out of the mess of shelving.

For a moment, Dash could only stare at it in shock. That was Phantom’s glove. Phantom was stuck under all of that debris. But why? He was a ghost, why didn’t he just phase through it all?

But then, Phantom let out a low groan, and Dash decided it didn’t matter. His hero was in trouble, and once again Dash was in a position to help. He scrambled to his feet, racing over to Phantom’s side, and started hauling as much junk off of Phantom’s prone form as he could.

He’d managed to mostly unbury the ghost when a second pair of hands suddenly appeared in his line of vision. He stared in surprise as Foley grabbed a lacrosse stick off of the top of the pile and threw it over his shoulder, reaching for a goalie helmet next.

“What the hell are you doing here, Foley?” Dash grunted.

“I heard the crash and came to help,” Foley said simply, his expression tense. “What are you doing here?”

“I was putting the gym equipment away when he practically crashed into me,” Dash snapped.

Foley ignored him, instead reaching down to grab the edge of the shelf’s metal frame. He heaved back with all of his weak nerd strength, and sure enough the shelf barely even shifted. Still, Phantom let out a groan of pain, and Dash realized that he was mostly trapped by the shelf frame in particular.

“Get out of my way, nerd,” Dash ordered, shoving Foley aside. “You’re just going to hurt yourself.” And then, with a grunt of exertion, Dash heaved back with all of his might, lifting the twisted shelf frame up and off of Phantom.

Foley, to his credit, didn’t argue. Instead he acted as soon as Dash had cleared enough space, reaching down and pulling Phantom out from under the mess by his arms. As soon as he’d dragged Phantom far enough, he shouted, “He’s clear!”

Dash let the shelf crash back down against the floor, turning to kneel at Phantom’s side next to Foley. “Geez, he looks rough. What happened?”

Looking rough was a bit of an understatement. Phantom’s shoulders and back were covered with cuts that were oozing sluggishly, at least some likely from his crash into the shelving unit. But what was really alarming was the wound along the side of his face, extending up into his hairline. His eye was swollen shut, and his hair was stained with green ectoplasm. If Dash had to guess, he’d say that was probably why Phantom hadn’t just phased out of the wreckage - he was probably too concussed to think straight. The ghost hadn’t even bothered to move now that he was freed; he just lay on the ground and whimpered softly in pain.

“Not sure,” Foley admitted, “But I think I caught sight of Skulker earlier. Something must have chased him off, though, otherwise I’m pretty sure he would have shown up here by now.”

Dash figured Foley must have been right. The metallic ghost was a regular visitor to Casper High, enough so that everyone recognized him on sight, and even Dash knew that if Skulker was still around he likely would have tracked Phantom down by now and tried to finish the job.

Still, he couldn’t help but glance nervously towards the entrance to the storage room, half expecting to see Skulker suddenly looming in the doorway. There was nothing there, though, and soon enough, his attention returned to Phantom, who was finally starting to stir. Dash quickly grabbed at Phantom’s elbow, helping the groaning ghost sit up, Foley doing the same on his other side.

“Ugh, what happened?” Phantom asked, his hand coming up to rub at his head. Almost immediately though he pulled back with a hiss of pain, his gloves coated with more ectoplasm from the wound on his head.

“You got hit pretty bad,” Foley explained, his eyes darting between Phantom and Dash for some reason. “I dunno what happened after you got knocked through the locker room wall and into here, though. Maybe Dash can fill you in.”

Dash felt Phantom stiffen, and his head whipped up when he realized that Foley wasn’t the only one holding him. Dash had a second to take in the sight of unnaturally green eyes staring at him in alarm, before the sudden motion seemed to send Phantom’s head spinning. He moaned again and started to tip over, and Dash had to hastily grab him around the waist before he faceplanted onto the hard concrete floor.

“Whoa, man! Don’t move so fast, you hit your head!” Dash held Phantom steady until he was sure the ghost wasn’t about to fall over again, and then slowly helped him sit back upright. “Geez, you gotta take it easy, give yourself a second. Concussions can mess you up.”

“Concussion?” Phantom echoed, sounding slightly dazed.

“You think he has a concussion?” Foley asked. He stared at Phantom with a furrowed brow, as if searching for the word ‘concussion’ to be written across his forehead. “You seem so sure, but how can you really tell? Just because he got hit on the head, doesn’t mean he’s got one. I mean, come on, D — uh, Phantom gets smacked in the head all the time, usually he’s fine!”

“Trust me, I know the signs,” Dash nodded confidently. “Coach drills us on them constantly, given how often they happen in football. Memory loss, confusion, balance problems? Let me guess, you’re feeling kinda nauseous too?” Phantom nodded wordlessly. “Yup. You definitely have one.”

Rather than argue, Phantom just closed his eyes and sighed in resignation.

Foley gave Dash a considering look. “You know, I never thought about it, but you probably know a fair bit about injuries and stuff from all the sports, don’t you?”

Dash shrugged, feeling self-conscious for some reason. “I’m not just muscles and good looks, you know, dweeb. I know things.”

Rather than bristle at the admittedly weak insult, Foley just hummed, still studying Dash with that odd, thoughtful look.

Unused to being stared at like that by Foley of all people, Dash fought down the urge to squirm. He was seconds away from just decking the look off of Foley’s face when Phantom started to shift in his arms, weakly attempting to get up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where do you think you’re going?” Dash yelped, trying to keep his grip on Phantom, Foley forgotten.

“I need to get out of here,” Phantom grunted.

“Are you kidding me? You can barely sit up, let alone walk!”

“Good thing I can fly, then,” Phantom shot back, shoving his way out of Dash’s grip with surprising strength, given he’d barely been able to hold his head up a second ago. Sure enough, as soon as he was out of Dash and Foley’s arms, he started floating towards the ceiling.

“But you have a concussion!” Dash argued, jumping to his feet.

“I heal fast.”

“Hey,” Foley reached out and grabbed Dash’s shoulder. Dash whirled on the nerd, slapping his hand away with fire in his eyes, but to his credit Foley only flinched back for a second before he rallied his courage. “He’s a ghost, I’m pretty sure none of the usual treatments for concussions apply here, right?”

“The treatment is rest,” Dash snapped. “And lots of it. Ghosts can rest, can’t they?”

“I’m sure Phantom is going home to do just that, isn’t he?” Foley said, though the last bit was clearly aimed up at the ghost hovering above them, listing slightly to the left. “Especially given the school day is pretty much over and I’m sure no other ghosts will be attacking today.”

“Yeah,” Phantom agreed absently, still looking woozy. “I promise. I’m heading home — to my lair! — to get plenty of rest.”

Dash couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something, some second conversation between Phantom and Foley that he wasn’t a part of, but before he could demand any more answers, Phantom gave them a sloppy salute, turned intangible, and then flew up through the ceiling, leaving him and Foley alone in the storage locker surrounded by the wreckage.

Foley looked around at the mess, whistled lowly, and then sighed. “Wanna get out of here before one of the teachers comes and finds us and makes us help clean up?”

“Huh, not a bad idea, nerd,” Dash agreed. He shoved past Foley to make it out of the room first, but if he didn’t push the shorter teen as hard as he usually would, that was no one’s business but his own. He didn’t wait to see if Foley was following, simply racing off through the trashed gymnasium to head towards the locker rooms to get changed. Foley was right, it was close enough to the end of the day that the rest of classes were almost certainly going to be canceled thanks to the ghost attack; there was no point in sticking around.

It wasn’t until Dash was almost home that it occurred to him that Foley had been wearing normal clothes the whole time. So what the heck had he been doing near the gym?

The next moment in the chain was much simpler. It was once again during a ghost attack — hardly a surprise given that it was Amity Park. Dash had been hanging out with Kwan and a couple of the others from the football team at the mall, the four of them all just finishing up their lunch at the food court, when it happened. They’d been having a relatively quiet day in the city, all things considered, so really it didn’t come as that much of a surprise when the giant mutated ghost rabbits suddenly smashed through the wall and started rampaging through the stores.

Dash, Kwan, and the others, as Casper High students, were well trained in ghost attacks. They were already jumping up and grabbing their bags, leftover food abandoned, and calmly making their way towards the nearest exit. But the rest of the shoppers didn’t seem to be as experienced, with several people running and screaming in panic, tripping over tables and chairs and crashing into each other as they tried to escape. Dash winced, but figured it was their problem if they didn’t know how to get to safety, not his.

But just as he and Kwan had made it to the edge of the tables taking up the center of the food court, a familiar voice caught his attention, and he found himself instinctively looking over.

“We have to get these people out of here, or they’re just going to make this worse!” Manson growled, in the middle of helping an older man in a Hawaiian style shirt up off of the ground.

“Yeah, there’s too many civilians!” Foley agreed, jumping aside as a hysterical mother ran by with her son in her arms. “Once Danny gets here, he’s going to have his hands full if he’s got to protect people as well as fight off these ghost bunnies!”

For a split second, Dash thought they were talking about Fenton, before he realized there was no way that Fenton was going to be going up against ghosts. The loser was terrified of ghosts, he had probably been one of the first to flee in panic when the ghosts had appeared. That would explain why he was suddenly gone, even though Dash was pretty sure he’d seen Fenton sitting with Manson and Foley eating lunch earlier. No, though it took him a second to remember, he was pretty sure someone had mentioned once that Phantom’s first name might be Danny. That or he’d misheard Foley. Yeah, that had to be it. They were talking about Phantom, not Fenton.

Though hey, it had never really hit Dash before how similar those two names were. Weird.

Shaking the thought away, Dash realized that Foley and Manson were right. When Phantom showed up to fight off the rampaging bunnies, it would be so much harder if he also had to watch out for regular humans as well. They needed to clear the area, and fast.

“Kwan, Duke, Justin,” Dash called out to his teammates. “Hang on a sec!”

“What?”

“Dude? What the hell are you doing? Let’s go!”

“Dash?” Kwan gave Dash a worried look.

“Just hang on,” he ordered. And then before he could second guess himself, he stomped over to where Manson and Foley were still arguing.

“Oi, Manson!” he snapped, drawing the goth’s attention. She looked up at him in surprise, but before she could say anything, he asked her, “Can you do that super loud whistle again?”

“Buh? Uh, yeah? But why?”

“Just do it, nerd!” He shouted.

She jumped at his volume, but thankfully she didn’t question him further, just stuck her fingers in her lips and blew a loud, sharp, blast. It cut through the din of the rushing crowds and the ghost bunnies destroying a shoe store, drawing all eyes in their direction. The moment the chaos settled even the tiniest bit, Dash hopped up onto one of the food court tables and started gesturing towards where Kwan and the others were waiting.

“Alright, people! You know the drill!” he yelled, like he was delivering instructions to his teammates in the midst of a game. A shoebox soared towards his head like a rocket, but he just ducked out of the way without breaking his concentration. “Head for the nearest exit away from the ghosts! That’s that way! Don’t keep running in circles, go that way!”

And miraculously, the crowd listened. Instead of running in panicked circles, the mass of people all started flowing towards the far exit from the ghost bunnies, headed to where Kwan and the others were waiting. Thankfully his teammates had picked up his unspoken plan, and they started herding the crowd towards the doors, keeping everything orderly. Within a minute, the packed mall had emptied, leaving only Dash, Foley, and Manson to bring up the rear.

Just as they were leaving the food court, a black and white blur zoomed in overhead, pausing only long enough to get his bearings. Phantom looked mildly surprised to see the place all but empty, only the three humans below left in the building.

“You’re clear, Phantom!” Manson called up to the ghost, flinching a little as the sound of smashing glass filled the air from the direction of the jewelry store. “We managed to get everyone else out!”

“Thanks, guys!” Phantom grinned.

“Don’t thank us,” Foley responded, giving Dash that odd look again. “Dash and the other football players did most of the work.”

“Seriously?”

“I know, I’m just as surprised as you!”

“Hey!” Dash growled. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

“Boys! We can sort this out later, let’s get out of here so Phantom can deal with the ghosts, okay?” Manson suggested, her eyes darting towards where the rampaging ghost bunnies were starting to come closer. Without further warning, she grabbed both Dash and Foley by the arms and dragged them towards the exit. Once again Dash was caught off guard by how deceptively strong the goth girl was. Did she secretly work out or something?

He didn’t have time to ask, though, because almost as soon as they were outside, Manson shoved him towards where Kwan and his other teammates were waiting.

“Thanks for the help, again, Dash!” she called over her shoulder as she and Foley ran off to who the hell knew where. Maybe they’d gone to find wherever Fenton had stashed himself.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever nerd,” Dash grumbled, slouching his shoulders. Hearing them thank him didn’t make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, no way. It must have just been something he ate.

Still, as he made his way back to Kwan and the others, he couldn’t quite shake that little glow of pride that Manson’s parting words had left in him. He’d helped. He’d helped Phantom, again. He’d actually helped people out, kept them safe, instead of just running and saving his own skin. It actually felt…kinda good to help.

Then it struck him how he’d turned himself into a giant target and nearly got taken out by a flying shoebox, and the adrenaline crash hit him like a truck. Kwan had to reach out and grab him by the shoulders as he felt himself sway a little.

“Dude, you okay?” Kwan asked him.

“I can’t believe I just did that. Kwan, what the fuck was I thinking?!”

“I dunno,” Kwan admitted. “But it was pretty cool seeing you stand up there and direct everyone. And hey, everyone made it out safe, only a couple of scrapes and bruises from the looks of things.”

“Yeah? That’s pretty cool,” Dash said weakly, leaning more into Kwan’s support. “Just do me a favour? If I try to do something stupid like that again, hit me.”

Kwan, the traitor, just laughed. “Sure Dash. If I see you trying to help people out again, I’ll definitely punch you.”

“Dick,” Dash told him, though the smile on his face undermined his words. He gave Kwan a weak punch to the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

“Wanna head to the theater instead?” Kwan suggested.

“Dunno, is anything good playing?”

“If there isn’t anything, at least they’ve got the arcade.”

“Yeah, alright. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

The change was so subtle and slow, that at first Dash didn’t even realize it was happening. He just walked into English class one afternoon and realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d shoved Foley into a locker or called Manson creepy. He’d all but given up on bullying them; it just felt wrong after they’d worked together with helping Phantom so many times. And his new indifference had even extended to Fenton. Not that Dash thought the third member of the nerd trio deserved to be spared — he hadn’t been helping Phantom out after all — but he was always surrounded by the others, and it almost felt like too much effort to single Fenton out when the other two had become sort of off limits. It left this odd sour feeling in his stomach whenever he spotted Fenton and got the urge to deck him, just for old times sake. Was this what growing up felt like? Ugh, it sucked.

But it didn’t really hit him how much his behaviour towards the nerds had changed until he found himself in the incredibly bizarre position of standing up for them.

It had been a Monday, following yet another ghost attack. Dash hadn’t gotten involved this time, but he’d seen Foley and Manson chasing after one of the blob ghosts that had swarmed the school at one point, so he knew exactly why they weren’t huddled with the rest of the students in the gym like they were supposed to be. Fenton was also missing, but Dash figured he’d run and hid like the scaredy cat he was again. He didn’t bother thinking too hard about it.

But then after, when the ghosts were chased off, and the all clear was given, they found themselves back in Mr. Edward’s chem class. The old chem teacher was clearly already in a bad mood, maybe because his usual sweater vest was the victim of one of the blob ghosts, but when Foley, Manson, and Fenton slunk into the classroom about five minutes after everyone else, he whirled on them with fire in his eyes.

“And just where have you three been?!” he snapped, making the trio freeze in place. “School policy is very clear, when you hear the ghost alarm, you are to proceed to the gymnasium at once! I saw neither hide nor hair of any of you three there! I hope you have a very good explanation, or all three of you will be serving detention for the next week!”

It was immediately clear that they didn’t have a good excuse, from the way they shared panicked looks between the three of them. The silence stretched awkwardly as Mr. Edward’s temper continued to boil.

“I see,” he finally huffed. “Well, in that case — “

Before Mr. Edwards could deliver his justice, Dash found himself with his hand in the air. He could feel Kwan giving him a what the fuck look from the desk behind him, and honestly Dash was kind of asking himself the same question. What the actual fuck was he doing? But for some reason, staring Foley and Manson down, knowing damn well that the reason they hadn’t been hiding away with the rest of the school was because they were too busy helping Phantom protect everyone, he just couldn’t let them take the heat. In his head, he could just picture Phantom’s disappointed look if he ever found out that Dash had the power to help Phantom’s friends and did nothing. After all, wasn’t that Phantom’s whole thing? He had the power to help people, so he did? Dash respected that, he admired that. Maybe it was time he tried following his hero’s lead a little bit.

So even though his arm had been a bit tentative and shaky when he’d first raised it, he straightened his elbow and made sure his hand was well in the air, nice and visible.

Sure enough, Mr. Edwards cut himself off, and turned towards Dash. “Yes, Mr. Baxter?” he asked, sounding vaguely annoyed. “You have something you’d like to say?”

“Mr. Edwards, I saw Foley and Manson get stuck behind some blob ghosts when we were on our way to the gym,” he lied through his teeth, well practiced at looking his teachers in the eye and playing innocent. “It would have been unsafe for them to follow. Doesn’t the ghost safety protocol state that if you can’t make it safely to the gym you’re supposed to duck into the nearest bathroom?”

Mr. Edwards blinked a few times. “Well, yes. It does.” He turned back to the trio. “Is that what you did?”

“Yes, sir,” Foley quickly agreed, nodding. “We didn’t think it was safe to try to push through that many blob ghosts, so we hid in the bathroom. Sorry, we didn’t get a chance to tell anyone.”

Mr. Edwards hummed thoughtfully. “Very well, I suppose you and Ms. Manson are excused. But what about you, Mr. Fenton? Mr. Baxter didn’t mention seeing you. And it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve vanished during a ghost attack.”

And honestly, Dash had done his part. He’d gotten Foley and Manson out of trouble, he’d done them the solid. There was no need for him to extend the same to Fenton. Fenton didn’t help fight ghosts, Fenton was just a coward loser, the biggest loser of the lot. Dash owed him nothing, didn’t need to stick his nose out for the last of the loser trio after he’d already saved the other two.

But for some reason, Phantom’s disappointed face appeared in his mind again, and Dash found himself blurting out, “C’mon, Mr. Edwards, knowing Fenton, he was in the bathroom from the start. I just must have missed him going in.”

There were a few muffled chuckles from the rest of the class, and the look Fenton gave him was hardly impressed, but Dash’s comment hit its mark. Mr. Edwards sighed, the last of his fury diminished.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, Mr. Baxter. Alright, Mr. Fenton, go to your seat. We’ve lost enough time as it is. Now, who remembers what a p-shell is?”

The class quickly turned their attention to the board, and Foley, Mason, and Fenton were allowed to slink to their seats unbothered. But as Fenton passed by Dash, he paused for the smallest of moments.

“Thanks,” he whispered, so softly that Dash almost thought he’d imagined it. And then he shuffled over to his desk at the back of the room and slumped into his chair, looking exhausted despite it only being first period.

Once Fenton had made his way past, Dash gave up on paying any attention to him for the rest of the day. He’d done his good deed, the nerds were off the hook, and everything was settling back to normal.

The next time he ended up helping Phantom was the first time he did it on his own, with no Manson or Foley to be seen.

The sun had been starting to set, pale and faint as clouds rolled in from the north, threatening snow. Dash had been walking home from meeting up with Kwan at the local ramen place that Kwan really liked, his hands tucked into his pockets and his nose buried in the collar of his jacket to protect it from the chill. The streets were quiet, rush hour long past, and Dash mostly had the sidewalk to himself as he made his way home.

But then, just as he was passing by the alley between an old used bookstore and a laundromat, he heard a small sound. At first he thought it might have been some sort of animal digging through the trash bins, but when he glanced down the alley out of mild curiosity, he spotted a familiar pair of glowing green eyes staring back.

What the fuck. Why was Phantom sitting in a pile of garbage bags down a dark alley?

Before he could think better of it, Dash immediately changed directions to jog into the alley towards Phantom, his brow furrowed with concern. As he approached, he saw Phantom was pushing himself up to his feet with one arm against the brick wall behind him, but the other looked odd, hanging limply at his side. By the time Dash reached Phantom, he had managed to stand, but his body language screamed that he was in pain, his good arm coming up to cradle his injured one.

“Geez, what happened?” Dash asked, looking Phantom over for any other injuries. Aside from a small smear of soot on one cheek, Phantom looked relatively unharmed, but one never knew when it came to the elusive ghost hero. Still, from Dash’s quick visual inspection, Phantom’s only major injury looked to be his shoulder, and from the shape of it, Dash suspected it was probably dislocated. Weird. Did ghosts even have bones?

“Ember didn’t appreciate my feedback on her latest single,” Phantom grumbled, shooting a glare at the thermos strapped to his hip.

Dash followed Phantom’s gaze. “You caught her, though?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good,” Dash said simply, and then he reached out towards Phantom’s shoulder.

The ghost immediately jerked back, turning his injured side away from Dash and hunching over protectively. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, your shoulder looks seriously messed up,” Dash told him. “You’ve probably dislocated it.”

“So what if I have?” Phantom asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at Dash.

“I can help you pop it back into place,” Dash offered simply, keeping his hands up in surrender to hopefully put Phantom at ease. “I know you’re supposed to see a professional or whatever, but football players dislocate their shoulders all the time. I’ve seen it done a bunch of times, I know how to do it.”

Phantom just continued to watch him warily. “I know how to do it too. I’ve had to fix my own dislocated shoulder before.”

Dash couldn’t help but hiss sharply through his teeth. He’d thankfully only suffered an injury like this once before, and he’d recovered easily enough, but he remembered how much it sucked to have the bone popped back into place, and that was with someone else doing it. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it would have been trying to do it to himself.

“It’ll be easier if I do it,” Dash pointed out. “Come on, I promise, I just want to help.”

“Why?” Phantom snapped with surprising venom. “Forgive me for not believing you, Dash, but I’m familiar with most of the people in this town, and you’ve never struck me as the good samaritan type.”

Phantom’s harsh words hit him like a slap. “I-I don’t…I’m not…”

Phantom seemed to realize how bitter his words had been, because his eyes widened for a moment with regret, before he abruptly looked away. “...sorry. That…that was the pain talking. I didn’t mean that.”

“N-no, i-it’s okay,” Dash quickly reassured him, hoping it wasn’t obvious how shaken Phantom’s comment had left him. “I, uh. Guess I haven’t exactly done much first aid outside of football practice, heh.”

Phantom glanced back at him through his bangs, watching him with a cautious expression, before he eventually let out a weary sigh, closed his eyes, and presented his wounded shoulder to Dash.

“Actually, if you wouldn’t mind helping me, it would be much appreciated,” Phantom said tiredly. “This is starting to hurt like crazy, and it’s making it difficult for me to concentrate on flying.”

“C-cool, yeah, I can help with that.” Dash swallowed thickly as Phantom turned his back to him, giving Dash better access to his injury. Dash reached out, his hands only trembling a little thank you very much, and rested them on Phantom’s upper arm and the slope of his shoulder, getting a feel for the joint. It was the first time he’d ever really touched Phantom, and he shivered a little at the ghost’s chill against his bare hands, but even still he couldn’t help but notice that Phantom seemed actually kind of warm for a ghost. Maybe he had a ghost fever on top of the shoulder problem?

Well, if he did, there was nothing Dash could do about that, so he simply set to work, bracing Phantom’s collarbone while his other hand began to put gentle pressure on Phantom’s joint.

He heard Phantom try to muffle a whimper, and he shushed him gently. “Almost done,” he promised, just as the shoulder bone popped back into the socket.

Phantom gasped sharply, and then abruptly slumped, leaving Dash scrambling to support him. “Whoa!”

“S-sorry,” Phantom murmured. “I just got really dizzy there for a second.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay to fly?” Dash asked, brow furrowed in concern. Phantom was limp against him; Dash was pretty sure if he tried to take a step back or took his arm off of Phantom’s shoulders even for a moment, the ghost would end up a heap on the ground.

“Yeah, just…just gimme a second.”

Dash really wanted to be patient for his hero, but he had already been feeling the chill of the winter air and the rapidly setting sun, and holding an ice cold ghost in his arms wasn’t exactly helping. He couldn’t stop the shiver that wracked through him, even as he tried to stay still so that Phantom could catch his breath, or whatever the ghost equivalent was.

“Oh geez, you must be freezing,” Phantom said as he noticed Dash’s shudder. He pulled away to give Dash some space, bringing up his good arm to support the injured one. “Sorry, I know I’m like an ice cube.”

“N-no, n-no, i-it’s f-fine,” Dash insisted through chattering teeth. “I-I’m m-more w-worried about y-you.”

“Me?” Phantom scoffed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll be fine in a day or two. You look like you’re about five minutes from being as cold and frozen as I am, though. You should probably head home and warm up.”

“A-are you s-sure?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine. Thanks for helping patch me up. Again, I guess,” Phantom added ruefully. “I almost forgot about the time with the concussion.” He then gave Dash a considering look. “You’re actually kind of good at this thing, aren’t you?”

“S-seems like there’s n-not much difference b-between f-f-football injuries and g-ghost f-fighting ones,” Dash joked.

“Not surprising,” Phantom said with a laugh. "Both involve a lot of crashing into stuff, right?"

"Heh, yeah."

"Well, see you around, Dash!" Phantom said overly brightly with a smile that looked slightly fixed on his face, before he hopped up into the air to begin flying away.

"Wait!" Dash blurted out, reaching for Phantom.

Phantom paused and looked back. "Yes?"

"I j-just, uh..." Dash's hand withdrew, his earlier confidence wavering as Phantom stared down at him. "I mean, you g-get hurt a lot, r-right? I know you have h-h-healing powers or whatever, b-but, like, if you ever n-need someone t-t-to patch you up or whatever — shit it's cold out! — j-just feel f-f-free to hit me up, y'know?"

Phantom blinked. "Are you serious?"

"Y-yeah! Of c-course!"

"I don't know how much I really need an on-call medic..." Phantom said slowly, and Dash couldn't help the way he slumped in disappointment. Though, before he could get too upset, Phantom sighed and added, "I'll keep you in mind, though."

Dash immediately perked back up and beamed.

Phantom eyed his pleased expression and then shook his head in exasperation. "Go home, Dash, your lips are bluer than mine."

And with that he shot off into the sky and disappeared over the rooftops.

As much as Dash wanted to try to watch his hero flying away, he was too damn cold to try to follow him, so instead he took Phantom's advice and hurried home before he lost any more feeling in his toes.

The next day, when he shuffled into the locker room to start getting ready for his usual early morning workout, he was the perfect definition of glum. He pulled his locker open without fanfare and started tugging out his gear, letting it all fall to the ground around his feet.

"Dude, you okay?" Kwan asked gently from the next locker over.

"...no."

Kwan's brow furrowed in concern, and he immediately stopped what he was doing and turned towards him. "What happened?"

"I helped Phantom again."

"What? Dude, that's so cool!" Kwan said with excitement, before he registered Dash's continued down mood. "So what happened? Normally you'd be over the moon that you got to see him and help him out."

Dash sighed heavily, finished grabbing his stuff out of his locker, and slammed it shut, turning to face Kwan fully. "He said I don't help other people."

Well, technically he'd said that Dash wasn't a good samaritan — Dash had needed to look up what that actually was when he got home because he’d only vaguely recognized the term and hadn’t been completely sure what Phantom was talking about — but once Dash figured out the reference, he understood Phantom's point pretty quickly.

Kwan just stared at him for a moment, waiting for more, but when Dash didn't say anything else, Kwan blinked. "Well, uh. I mean. He's not wrong?"

Dash shot him a hurt look, to which Kwan only shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, man, on the field, I wouldn't want to have anyone else by my side. You look out for us, guide us, and, yeah, you help us out. But off the field? With anyone outside the football team? I mean, sure, you’ve helped out Phantom whenever you can, but uh. You aren't exactly winning Mr. Lancer's Volunteer of the Year award. Sorry, bro."

“I-I covered for Foley and Manson that one time!” Dash argued, although even he could tell that wasn’t much of a point in his favor. “A-and Fenton, too!”

Kwan grimaced. “That…barely counts, dude.”

Dash's wounded stare just made Kwan shrug helplessly, so he just sighed.

"I guess you're right," Dash said slowly. "I just wish Phantom hadn't sounded so...disgusted with me when he said it."

"Ouch," Kwan said with a sympathetic wince.

"Yeah..." Dash sighed, and their conversation trailed off as they finished getting ready for their early morning workout. Still, Dash couldn't help but dwell on it all throughout their gym time and even afterwards when they were back in the locker room, ditching their gear to get ready for class. He couldn't get Phantom's wary expression out of his mind, Kwan's gentle but honest confirmation of Phantom's point ringing in his ears. He chewed on it and chewed on it and chewed on it some more until, just as he finished pulling on his letterman, an idea crystallized in his head.

"That's it!" he breathed in wonder at the realization.

"Huh?" Kwan looked over at him. "What's what, dude?"

"Phantom helps people all the time, right? That's his whole thing! So of course it would make him happy if I helped people too, right?"

"Uh, yeah, that makes sense to me," Kwan agreed.

"Yeah!" Dash pumped his fist, jazzed that he had a plan of attack. "That's what I gotta do to show Phantom he can trust me! If I help other people, he knows I can help him too!"

"Yeah? That sounds like a great idea!"

"And I know exactly who to start with," Dash declared, throwing the last of his stuff into his locker and slamming it shut.

"Oh? Who?"

Dash rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Come on man, isn't it obvious? Who in the school clearly needs more help than anyone else?"

Kwan pondered for a moment, before his eyes lit up with realization. "Wait, do you mean Fenton?"

"Of course! The guy's a total loser who can't stay awake in class and weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet!"

"And how exactly are you going to help him?" Kwan asked, sounding unconvinced.

But Dash was on a roll now, ideas and plans forming in his head at lightning speed. "I bet it's a dietary problem," he mused aloud. "He's probably anorexic or something, that's why he's so tired and skinny."

Kwan went kind of still as he considered that. "That sounds pretty serious, if you're right."

Dash just shrugged. "Pretty sure he just needs someone to make sure he's eating properly and that'll fix it."

"I, uh, don't think you can fix anorexia with — "

"I should probably focus on calories," Dash decided, completely ignoring whatever Kwan was about to say. It probably wasn't important anyways, and if it was, Kwan would bring it up again later. He knew that when Dash got into his head like this, there was no knocking him off track, and he knew that it was better to leave Dash be and then talk to him about the other thing at another time. He was an awesome friend like that. "Maybe start with some meal plans for the next few days. Shit, do you think he's got any allergies?"

"Couldn't tell you," Kwan said with a sigh. "Maybe you should ask him."

"Yeah, good point. Let's go."

"What, now?"

"I'm ready to go, aren't you?" Dash asked, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Kwan scooped up his own bag and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. So we're going to try to track down Fenton now? You know there's a good chance he won't be at school yet. He's late almost as often as he's on time."

"Probably too tired to get out of bed because he's been skipping breakfast," Dash huffed, leading the way out of the school's gym and into the halls. "I think I've got some protein bars I can give him, those should be safe, right? Shoot, what's in these things?" He dug one of the bars out of his pocket, and squinted down at the ingredient list. "Hmm, no peanuts, but it does have soy. I'll have to make sure that's okay."

Kwan just shook his head and trailed after Dash as they made their way over to Fenton's locker.

Surprisingly, by the time they got there, Fenton had actually made it to school, and was currently struggling with his jammed locker while Foley and Manson stood by uselessly. Dash and Kwan slowed as they approached, watching Fenton yank on the handle of his locker for a few seconds with no results, and then shared a glance.

"Told you he needs all the help he can get," Dash muttered under his breath.

After a few more unsuccessful tugs, Fenton, the weirdo, gave up and started looking around all shifty-like, like he was about to try something super sketchy to open his locker. Before he could do anything weird, though, Manson suddenly spotted Dash and Kwan standing there and cleared her throat loudly, making Fenton spin around in alarm.

"Oh. Hey, Dash. Kwan." Fenton looked less than happy to see them, Foley and Manson flanking him on either side for support.

"Oi, Fenton!" Dash stomped towards them, rolling up his sleeves. "Too weak to open your own locker, huh? Why am I not surprised?"

Fenton rolled his eyes, even as he shrunk back as Dash approached. "It's just a little bit jammed, that's all."

"Nah, it's because you don't eat enough protein, no wonder you're such a shrimp," Dash told him with a scoff. "Lucky for you, I'm here to help."

"Oh gee, I'm so happy," Fenton said without any enthusiasm.

"Move, loser," Dash instructed him. When Fenton just stood there, clearly expecting some sort of trick, Dash just rolled his eyes and shoved Fenton out of the way, ignoring Foley's yelp as they crashed against each other. He reached out, hooked his fingers in the handle of Fenton's locker door, and with a single pull he managed to yank it open.

"There you go," he said smugly, gesturing to the locker.

Fenton stared at his locker, and then Dash in disbelief. "Uh...wow, um, thanks, Dash."

"And here, let me guess, you probably didn't eat breakfast yet, did you?"

"W-well, I, uh..."

Dash rolled his eyes again, and shoved the protein bar into Fenton's chest. "Here. This isn't a replacement for a balanced breakfast, but it's better than nothing. We can look at doing something better tomorrow. You don't have any allergies, right?"

"Uh...what?" Fenton had never looked so confused.

"Allergies. Foods that could kill you if you eat them?" Dash raised his eyebrow.

"N-no? What is happening right now?"

"Good," Dash said with a nod. "I'll bring you a smoothie tomorrow, then. Extra protein powder, so that maybe you'll finally be less of a twig."

"Are you going to poison it?!”

Manson finally shoved her way between Dash and Fenton, glaring up at him. "Okay, just what the heck is going on here, Dash? You’ve finally started leaving us alone for the past few weeks — which has been kind of nice, I’ll admit — but now this? What exactly are you playing at?”

Dash flinched back as she shoved her finger in his face, nearly sticking it up his nose. Geez, those nails looked sharp.

“Nothing!” Dash snapped back defensively. “I’m just helping! Is that a crime?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t help people unless it’s to help yourself, Dash.”

Her words hit deep, bringing back memories of Phantom’s barely hidden disdain, and he felt himself flush in response, his temper flaring.

“What do you know, Manson?” he growled, pushing into her space and using his height to loom over her. Any feelings of comradire he might have felt for her from the times they’d helped Phantom together were forgotten, lost in his anger and embarrassment. “Maybe I just want to help out! I can be a good samaritan too, you know!”

He thought he saw Fenton suddenly twitch at his words out of the corner of his eye, going stiff for a moment before slowly relaxing. An odd resigned look appeared on his face, and with a sigh he stepped forward and pulled Manson back by the shoulder.

“It’s okay, Sam. Dash was just trying to help, like he said.”

She whipped her head around to give him an incredulous look. “What?”

Fenton ignored her for now, stepping in front of her so that he could face Dash. “Thank you for the breakfast bar, Dash,” Fenton said respectfully. “And for opening my locker.”

“Yeah, well,” Dash huffed, mollified by Fenton’s show of gratitude. “You better eat it. It’s probably not the best one for your nutritional needs, but it’ll work for now. And like I said, I’ll bring you a smoothie tomorrow; you probably don’t know how to use a blender, so it’ll just be easier for me to make it. Be here tomorrow at least ten minutes early, understand? I’m gonna make sure you drink it all.”

“Ominous,” Foley commented blithely.

“Uh, yeah, okay. I can do that,” Fenton said slowly, and then added under his breath, “I hope.”

“You’d better,” Dash emphasized, staring Fenton down.

“Yes! Yep! Okay, I promise!”

“Hey wait, aren’t you going to at least ask what flavour of smoothie he’d like?” Manson said snidely, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Don’t need to,” Dash told her simply. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Kwan knows. He always knows. Watch. Hey, Kwan, what flavour smoothie should I make for Fenton for tomorrow?”

Kwan leaned around Dash’s shoulder and squinted at Danny, his head tilted slightly to the left, for almost a full minute. The longer he stared, the more it looked like Fenton was about to break out into a cold sweat, but Dash just let Kwan work his magic.

Sure enough, as soon as the thought had crossed Dash’s mind, Kwan leaned back, sniffed once, and declared, “Blueberry coconut mint.”

Manson stared in disbelief. “Are you serious? That sounds gross!”

“Actually,” Fenton said sheepishly, his shoulders hunching. “That…doesn’t sound bad at all. I’d try it.”

“Oh,” Kwan suddenly added. “And a touch of ectoplasm.”

Now it was Fenton’s turn to gape at him. “W-what?”

“You sure?” Dash asked, brow furrowed.

“Yup. At least as much as the mint.”

Dash looked to Fenton for confirmation, who immediately flushed and ducked his head.

“I’m, uh. Kind of used to my food being contaminated with ectoplasm thanks to my parents,” he admitted reluctantly.

Dash turned back to Kwan, who nodded sagely, and then let out a big sigh. “Alright, I’ll add a bit of ectoplasm too. Might have to scrape it off of a wall or something…”

“Uh, actually, I can just supply my own,” Fenton quickly suggested. “Shouldn’t be too hard to just add some on the spot and mix it all together, right?”

“Yeah, alright, that works,” Dash agreed. Ecto would probably mix in easily enough, and it saved Dash from having to find some. “Alright. Blueberry coconut mint smoothie with extra ectoplasm. It’s a start, at least. And I better see you ordering a salad for lunch!” he added, glaring Fenton down. “And not some stupid veggie one, you’ll get the grilled chicken cobb salad and you’ll like it!”

Fenton blanched. “That’s like the most expensive thing on the cafeteria menu!”

“Ugh, do I have to do everything for you?!” Dash snarled, before turning to look down the hallway. “Where’s Mikey, he usually has lunch money.”

“No, no, no!” Fenton, Foley, and Manson all started protesting at once.

“No, It’s fine, Dash, I’ll get the salad, don’t worry about it!” Fenton quickly assured him.

“I’ll pay for it,” Manson added. “I mean, you’re convincing Danny to eat a salad? Never thought I’d see you on my side, Baxter, but I’m not objecting.”

“Good,” Dash said, giving the three one more final glare. “You’d better eat that salad, Fenton. I’ll be watching you, and if I see you try to buy your usual crap at lunch, I’ll throw it out and make you eat your salad, got it?”

“Y-yes sir,” Fenton said, throwing in a little salute for good measure.

“Good. Alright, I’ve wasted enough of my time on you losers. Later.” And with that, he and Kwan headed off to class, sauntering down the hall while the rest of the students scampered out of their way.

“See, Kwan? I can be nice and helpful,” Dash said proudly as they turned the corner towards the classroom. “I bet Phantom would have been so impressed if he were there to see it.”

Chapter Text

Things…really started changing after that.

It began about a week after he’d decided to essentially take Fenton under his wing. For the first few days, Fenton’s new diet plan actually went rather well. Dash would bring him a protein shake every morning and hover over Fenton until he finished it, just so he’d be sure that Fenton had eaten at least something in the morning, and then he’d shove Fenton off in the direction of Manson and Foley with strict instructions to make sure he got something healthy for lunch. And although it didn’t seem to be helping with the dark circles under his eyes, Dash had noted that Fenton had made it through geography without falling asleep once, so he was pretty sure that meant it was working.

But then, on Thursday, Dash caught Fenton grabbing a plate of spaghetti of all things from the cafeteria, and he realized that Fenton was more of a lost cause than he thought.

“Are you kidding me, Fenton?!” Dash shouted as he stomped up to Fenton in line. Fenton froze like a deer in the headlights with his wide eyes staring at Dash in fear, caught in the middle of picking up his tray. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“I-it’s got meatballs!” Fenton protested weakly. “Isn’t that…doesn’t that count as protein?”

Dash scoffed and rolled his eyes, scooping up Fenton’s tray and dumping it straight in the trash.

“Hey! Don’t throw out the tray!” the cafeteria worker scolded him.

“Oi, you.” Dash looked over his shoulder at the next kid in line, who shrank back from his glare. “You dig it out, I’m busy.”

“S-sure,” the kid said weakly, reaching into the trash can to dig out the tray.

Fenton gave him a dark look. “Dash —”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dash cut him off. “I gave you very simple instructions. You have a carb count, and you need to have a minimum level of protein! A couple of rinky dink meatballs aren’t even close to what you need, and that sauce was nothing but sugar!”

Despite the way Dash was getting up in his face, Fenton didn’t back down. “Look, I’m tired of salads, okay? I did as you asked and had them for lunch for the past few days, but I’m sick of it and I wanted something else. It’s my lunch money, and —”

“You’ve been eating the same thing since — ugh, have you even looked at the menu options?” Dash groaned, cutting Fenton off again. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Fenton boggled, but he followed Dash back to the beginning of the cafeteria line.

Dash shoved a couple of kids backwards to make room, and then leaned across the counter, pointing up at the list of meals available that day.

“Look, see that stuff there? That’s the stuff you should be ordering,” Dash instructed. “I’d go with the stir fry, myself, but if you’re not a fan of mushrooms, the chili’s not bad.”

Fenton blinked up at the menu, before giving Dash an uncertain look. “Are you serious? I mean, it’s cafeteria food. How good can a stir fry be?”

Dash just shrugged. “You can say thanks to the football team; we’re good, and the school wants to make sure we stay that way, so they make sure we’re well fed.”

“Huh,” Fenton said thoughtfully, glancing between Dash and the board. He opened his mouth to order, and then winced. “Wait, crud. I don’t have enough cash on me anymore.”

The cafeteria server let out a weary sigh. “You already came through, hun,” she told him tiredly. “I remember. Just…pick something so you’re not holding up the line anymore.”

Fenton waffled for a few more seconds before ultimately settling on the chili. The server ladled him a bowl, set it on the tray, and then turned to the next person in line, already moving on.

Fenton, recognizing the dismissal, scooped up his tray and headed out into the lunch room. But before he had even taken three steps, Dash reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, jerking him to a halt so fast he nearly dropped his food.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Dash growled.

“Uh…to go eat?” Fenton squeaked.

“Oh no you don’t,” Dash told him darkly. “After what you just tried to pull with the spaghetti? I’m not letting you out of my sight. Come on.”

Fenton let out a low groan. “Can we go back to you knocking my trays out of my hands and throwing food in my face?” he grumbled under his breath. “I think I might actually prefer that to whatever the heck this is.”

“You should be thanking me on your hands and knees for this, Fenton,” Dash huffed, striding across the cafeteria, making his way to where the rest of the A-listers were waiting. “Anyone else would kill to be in your shoes right now.”

Fenton muttered something else, but it was too low for Dash to catch it. He thought for a second about whirling around, grabbing Fenton by the shirt, and forcing him to repeat himself, but then he saw Kwan jump up to greet him, and he dismissed Fenton from his mind.

“Yo, where’d you go in such a hurry, bro?” Kwan asked him, bumping chests.

“Yeah, bro, I almost finished off your food,” Dale added, smirking up at Dash from the seat next to Dash’s half-eaten plate. Dash rolled his eyes and punched Dale in the shoulder.

“Touch my food and die,” Dash told him simply, shoving him over and dropping down into his seat. Kwan sat next, across the table from Dash. Paulina looked up briefly from her conversation with Star and Tanya to acknowledge their arrival, and then everyone else pretty much settled back in.

That is, until Dash turned to look over his shoulder, and called out, “Come on, Fenton, your scrawny butt can squeeze in next to Kwan.”

The A-listers went silent as they collectively realized who was being invited to sit with them. Kwan, to his credit, didn’t even hesitate, just shuffled over a bit until there was a small patch of space for Fenton to squeeze in. Looking like a man on his way to his own execution, Fenton slowly set his tray down on the table and threw his leg over the bench to take his spot. He looked comically small, squished in between Kwan and one of the team’s wide receivers, Marco.

Everyone was openly staring at him as he picked up his fork. Fenton glanced around nervously before ducking his head, his grip on his utensil tightening.

The moment stretched. Dash’s lips began to thin the longer Fenton just sat there, too scared to eat with everyone watching him. He was about to say something, but then he heard someone clear their throat right behind him.

He turned around and gave Manson a raised eyebrow. She stared down at him with one hand on her hip, the other holding her tray aloft, while Foley lurked behind her like a scared kitten, all hunched over and wincing.

“What do you want, Manson?” he demanded.

“You seem to have abducted our friend, Baxter,” Manson shot back immediately, sounding equally annoyed. “What gives?”

Dash sniffed dismissively. “Caught him breaking his meal plan. Decided I needed to keep a closer eye on him from now on.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but Dash wasn’t intimidated. He knew damn well that she was all in favour of Dash’s meal plan for Fenton; he’d overheard her gushing about it every time he’d walked away after giving Fenton his morning smoothie. She wouldn’t interfere with it now, he was willing to bet.

Turned out Dash was right. She didn’t protest any further about Fenton being dragged over to sit with them. But then she surprised him by shrugging, and then hip checking Dale, forcing him to move over again.

“Hey!” Dale yelped.

“Make some room boys, you’ve got two more incoming,” Manson told them darkly, dropping her tray onto the table.

“Sam, I don’t know if we should be doing this…” Foley said weakly, still cringing behind her.

“Danny is sitting here today,” Manson pointed out. “And we sit with Danny. Thus, we’re sitting here today, too.”

Foley searched her face for a moment. He must have realized that she wouldn’t budge, though, because he slumped with a sigh and dropped his tray down next to Dale. “Yeah, alright. Mind if I sit here?”

“Uh, kind of?” Dale said incredulously. “I mean, you guys are basically shoving me off the bench.”

“Then Dash can move,” Manson said in a tone that brooked no argument. Even Dash couldn’t help but wilt a little under the intensity of her glare, and he decided it was probably not worth the fight — those elbows looked pointy. He silently shuffled over, and Manson and Foley took their seats across from Fenton.

Awkward silence descended across the lunch table, the tension so thick that even Dash wasn’t sure he knew how to break it. The only bright side was that, now that Manson and Foley were here, Fenton was finally comfortable enough to take a tentative bite of his chili.

Dash watched him roll the bite around in his mouth for a moment, before he swallowed. Speaking so softly that Dash almost couldn’t hear him, he admitted, “It’s good.”

“Told you,” Dash muttered under his breath.

“I’ve also been telling you,” Foley admonished, glancing over at Dash nervously as he spoke. “For ages. The cafeteria’s meatloaf is obviously superior, but the chili’s pretty darn good too.”

Dale snorted, making Foley jump a little. “It’s not that great,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “If you want a really good meatloaf, you gotta try the one at Joanne’s.”

Immediately Foley’s eyes lit up, and he spun to give Dale his full attention. “Yes! Oh man, their meatloaf is the best! Have you tried it with their Alabama-style BBQ sauce?”

Dash blinked in surprise as Dale brightened as well. “Fuck, yes! I mean, nothing beats their classic sauce, but dude. When they added that one to the menu, I seriously can’t imagine ordering anything else anymore. Way better than their Slow Smoked one,” he added, getting animated.

Foley’s face screwed up a little. “Ugh, yeah, that one was awful. I don’t know what they were thinking with that recipe.”

And just like that, Dale and Foley were sucked into a conversation about the various bbq sauces they’d tried, what paired best with them, and the pros and cons of each kind.

The rest of the table all collectively shared a look, none of them quite sure how to react to the sudden change of atmosphere. But then Marco leaned forward so he could look at Foley and Dale over Fenton’s shoulder, and snorted.

“Oh great, there’s two of them now.”

Like that, the ice was broken as the A-listers all snickered. Dale didn’t even bother breaking off his conversation with Foley, just shot the rest of them a flat look with barely any heat to it. He was well used to them giving him a hard time about his ‘foodie’ hobby.

“Tell me Foley doesn’t force you guys to go to that one brazilian steakhouse every chance he gets too,” Tanya said, leaning across the table towards Manson. Manson startled a little at being unexpectedly addressed, but she regained her composure quickly.

“He’s taken Danny a few times,” Manson said cooly, her eyes flicking towards Fenton for a moment. Dash looked over as well, and was pleased to see that, with the attention off of him, Fenton had started digging into his chili and was about halfway through his bowl already. Dash felt a surge of vindication as he watched Fenton ravenously dig into his meal; he knew Fenton wasn’t eating enough.

Tanya’s brow furrowed for a second, and then her expression cleared. “Oh, yeah, you’re into the whole vegetarian thing. I guess that wouldn’t be your scene, huh?”

“I keep telling you that the salad bar is really decent,” Fenton told Manson pointedly. His voice was still pretty quiet, as if he was trying not to draw attention to himself, but the rest of the table listened in anyways. “And the grilled pineapple is, like, really good.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Star burst out. “It’s so, so good, oh my god! Every time I go there I swear I could just eat a plate of it and nothing else.”

“Nah, girl, it's the biscuits that are the real draw of that place. If they didn't have those, Dale would never have dragged me back there.”

The conversation continued on for the rest of the lunch period. Although there were moments of awkwardness and the occasional comment that left one side or the other flinching, somehow Dash and his friends were able to peacefully coexist with Casper High’s loser trio for a full forty minutes without anyone getting dunked into a toilet or strung up on the flagpole by their underwear.

Dash would never say it out loud, but hanging out with Manson, Foley, and Fenton was actually…kind of okay.

But then, as the bell rang to signal the end of the lunch period, Dash’s attention was drawn back towards Foley and Dale. The two of them had mostly been chatting between each other, and the grin on Dale’s face as Foley regaled him with a story about some sort of ultimate burger he’d tried was wider than Dash had seen since Dale had broken up with his last girlfriend. In fact, that smile looked an awful lot like the one Dale used to reserve just for her.

“So Saturday?” Dale was asking Foley as they gathered up the remains of their respective lunches. “Diabolo Burritos? We’ll try their hot sauce flight, and we’ll see who cracks first.”

“Dude, I’ve been dying to check it out ever since they opened up,” Foley gushed, looking almost as excited as Dale. “Danny and Sam have, like, zero spice tolerance, so I’ve never had anyone to go with me.”

An ugly feeling surged to life inside of Dash’s stomach as he saw the way they were smiling at each other, and he turned to face Dale and Foley with bile choking him at the back of his throat.

“Sounds like you two are setting up for a nice little date,” he said with a smirk. “Just remember, Foley. Don’t put out until after he’s paid for dinner.”

Dale jerked towards him as the rest of the A-listers caught on to what Dash had just said and started tittering behind their hands. The smile on Dale’s face shriveled up, and he flushed in embarrassment, giving Dash a horrified look. “Dude!”

“D’aww, they make such a cute couple!” Justin jeered.

“Come on, guys, don’t be assholes,” Dale growled, shoving Justin with his shoulder. Behind him, Foley had gone quiet, his cheeks red and his eyes locked on the floor. Fenton and Manson encircled him, both murmuring quietly to him under their breaths, but Dash couldn’t make out what they were saying.

The glare Manson shot him over her shoulder was pretty telling though.

Dash just shrugged. “Whatever, man, if you got a thing for Foley, you do you. Or him, I guess.”

“Ugh, just, fuck off,” Dale hissed, and then he shoved past them, stomping off towards their next class, while the rest of the football team that shared the same lunch period with them catcalled him from behind.

Dash was watching him go when he felt someone shove roughly past him. “Hey!”

“I knew you were a dick, Dash,” Manson snarled at him as she stomped past, dragging Foley behind her by the wrist. “But I thought you at least reserved it just for us. I didn’t realize it was universal.”

He jerked back like he’d been slapped, her words unexpectedly harsh. His shoulders hunched defensively, and he drew in breath to retaliate with a poisoned barb of his own, but then Fenton walked past him as well, following in Manson’s wake. He briefly looked over at Dash, just for a second, and Dash’s words caught in his throat.

The look on his face couldn’t even be called disappointment, because that would imply that there was some expectation of something better. No, Fenton didn’t look disappointed in Dash. He looked…dismissive. Resigned. Like he’d expected something awful and Dash had proved him right.

It reminded Dash so strongly of the look on Phantom’s face that night when Dash had tried to help with his shoulder that for a moment it felt like he was back in that alley, freezing cold and watching his hero stare down at him like he was something stuck to the bottom of his boot. By the time he’d shaken off the memory and managed to catch his breath, the loser trio was long gone, the heel of Fenton’s shoe turning the corner and out of sight.

A second later Dash registered Kwan and Paulina standing next to him on either side. Kwan looked kind of sad and withdrawn, his eyes darting between Dash and the cafeteria doors, but Paulina just huffed and put her hands on her hips.

“Geez, Dale is just so sensitive,” she said dismissively. “You were just joking!”

“You guys were kind of really ribbing him,” Kwan objected quietly. “And he’s probably still a little sensitive about his love life since he and Kara broke up.”

“What, again?!”

“Yeah. She called it quits after she found out he was texting Melanie. He was pretty upset about it, didn’t you hear him talking about it yesterday?”

“Ugh,” Paulina rolled her eyes. “Dale and Kara break up like every other week. I’ve honestly stopped paying attention.”

“It still wasn’t very nice,” Kwan admonished.

“What does it matter, he should have known we weren’t serious,” Paulina said, shooting Kwan an affronted look. “As if anyone would be interested in Foley. He’s just a nerd who’s only into tech and constantly hounding after girls who are out of his league.”

Unbidden, Dash’s mind suddenly filled with memories of the various times he’d worked with Foley now to help Phantom, and he found himself blurting out, “That’s not all there is to him.”

Paulina froze mid-word, staring up at Dash in shock. Kwan looked equally surprised.

Dash’s shoulders crept up towards his ears under their stares, but he forced himself to forge on. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by Paulina and Kwan of all people. “I mean, Foley’s got a pretty level head in a crisis. Think about it, have you ever seen him freak out when a ghost is attacking?”

To his relief, instead of scoffing and dismissing him, Paulina actually paused to think about it. “Hmm, now that you mention it, no. He usually looks pretty bored and resigned.”

Dash shrugged. “I’m just saying, he’s not all that bad. Yeah, he’s a nerd, but…he has his good points too.”

“Everyone does,” Kwan agreed quietly. Dash looked over, but for some reason he couldn’t decipher the expression on Kwan’s face. Still, while it wasn’t quite the same look as the one Fenton had given him, something about it made Dash’s guts churn with shame.

“...maybe I overplayed it a little,” he finally admitted, looking down towards his feet.

Paulina tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I still think Dale was being too sensitive, but I guess you guys do need to make sure your whole teamwork dynamic isn’t affected.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow at the gym,” Dash said, mostly to himself, but this way Kwan could keep him accountable. Kwan was a good guy like that.

“Yeah, that might be best,” Kwan agreed, reaching up to clap a hand on Dash’s shoulder. “Give him time to cool off a bit. Besides, we should get to class.”

“Here, Dashie, can you carry my bag?” Paulina asked, holding up her backpack and batting her eyelashes. Dash grumbled under his breath about silly girls, but threw it over his arm next to his own.

The three headed off to class, the discussion shifting to the project they’d be doing in English next week, but in the back of Dash’s mind, he kept thinking about what Kwan had said, about everyone having good points.

And for some reason he couldn’t get Fenton’s face out of his head.

Dash walked into the gym the next morning with butterflies in his stomach and a sweatband around his forehead to keep his hair out of his face — he was probably due for a haircut — but despite his nerves he marched right up to Dale at the weight bench and stood there silently watching while Dale finished the last of his reps. When he was done, Dale racked the barbell, and then slowly sat up to face Dash, wiping the sweat off of his face with his towel as he shifted.

“Hey,” Dash greeted him, much more subdued than he normally would.

“Hey,” Dale said back coldly.

“Look…” Dash began to nervously rub at the back of his neck, glancing away from Dale. It was too hard to look him in the eyes for this part. “About all that stuff I said yesterday. About Foley and shit. It…I shouldn’t have…it wasn’t very cool of me.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Dale agreed, still in that frigid tone of voice.

“I went too far, and I’m, uh…sorry.” Ugh, apologizing sucked. He’d really wanted to just walk up to Dale and offer him a fistbump and ask if they were cool, but when he’d suggested that, Kwan had given him such a kicked puppy look that he’d known it wouldn’t be good enough. So here he was, doing the whole stupid apology thing. Phantom probably never had to apologize to people like this.

Then again, Dash didn’t think Phantom accused his friends of being gay, either. Gross, that weird guilty feeling was back in his stomach and he hated it.

Thankfully that was the point where Dale let out a huge sigh, distracting Dash from his thoughts. “You were kind of a dick, man,” Dale pointed out casually.

“Yeah, I know,” Dash agreed, biting the inside of his cheek.

He was caught off guard when Dale suddenly slung an arm around his neck. He jerked his head around to look, and found Dale grinning at him, all trace of his earlier anger gone.

“Look, man, you’re an ass sometimes, but hey. I already knew that. Tell you what, you spot me for the rest of today, and we’ll call it even, sound good?”

Dash snorted and bumped his shoulder into Dale’s chest, knocking him loose. “Great, so I’ll be stuck catching your weights every ten minutes, you mean?”

“Dude!” Dale exclaimed, pressing a hand to his chest in mock indignation. “Again you insult me?”

“I’m not the one who cracked the floor last week,” Dash shot back with a grin.

“Bro, I told you that was Justin.”

“Suuuure.”

“Alright, asshole, just for that, I’m making you spot me for the rest of the week,” Dale laughed, lying back down on the bench and reaching for the barbell. Dash automatically moved towards the head of the bench so that he could take up the spotter’s position. Dale lifted the bar with a grunt and started to pump.

It seemed like his apology had been taken well, but Dash wanted to be completely sure. “So are we cool?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual rather than concerned.

Dale waited until he finished his latest rep, racking the bar, and laying there for a moment, his face red and covered with sweat. “Yeah,” he said eventually, sounding breathless. “We’re cool.”

“Cool.”

“But,” Dale then added, making Dash go still. He didn’t like the sound of that ‘but’.

“Yeah?” he prompted, brow furrowed.

Dale made sure Dash was looking him dead in the eye when he spoke next. “Face it, man. I’m not the only one you need to apologize to.”

Ironically, Dash actually figured it would be easier to apologize to Foley compared to Dale. While it kind of rankled that he’d have to go groveling to one of the loser trio, at least Dash didn’t really care if Foley accepted his apology or not. Dale was his friend, and his opinion mattered to Dash, whereas if Foley didn’t like him, Dash didn’t really give a shit.

He decided to get it out of the way quickly, figuring he could do it when he dropped off Fenton’s smoothie. Sure enough, he found the loser trio hanging out around Fenton’s locker before school, talking quietly amongst themselves. Dash absently noticed that Fenton had a huge bandage across his cheek, and the circles under his eyes looked even deeper than normal. Maybe he’d gotten caught up in the ghost attack that hit the museum last night; Dash could remember hearing about it on the radio as his mom had bustled around the kitchen, getting his dad’s things ready. The bandage was peeling a little at the corner, the adhesive not sticking properly.

“Yo!” Dash called out to announce his presence as he walked up to the group. Their heads whipped up, their conversation immediately silenced as they looked at him with wide eyes. And then it seemed to register who was approaching, and their expressions shifted, Foley to shame, Fenton to wariness, and Manson to barely-reigned fury.

“What do you want, Dash?” she spat out.

“Did you forget?” Dash sneered, holding up Fenton’s smoothie and giving it a little shake.

Fenton looked mildly surprised to see it, but he quickly ducked his head. “I’m not actually that hungry today, Dash,” he said quietly.

“Don’t fuckin care, drink it,” Dash told him simply, shoving it against Fenton’s chest to force him to take it. Fenton fumbled it for a moment, but managed to catch it before it spilled. That out of the way, Dash turned to Foley next, who flinched back at the sudden attention.

“Oi, Foley. About yesterday,” Dash said, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible. Maybe if he acted like it was no big deal, it wouldn’t be. “I was joking around, but I took it too far, and that wasn’t cool of me. I’m sorry.”

Foley stared up at him, gobsmacked. Clearly whatever he’d been expecting Dash to say, this wasn’t it. “Uh. T-that…that’s okay? Thank you?”

“That was literally the weakest apology I’ve ever heard,” Manson said, though she was eyeing Dash appraisingly. Clearly she hadn’t expected him to actually apologize either.

He turned and shot her a dirty look. “I wasn’t talking to you, Manson.”

Before she could get offended and snap back, Foley let out a nervous chuckle. “Okay! Actually, that’s, no, that’s great, thank you, Dash, for, uh. Coming over and saying that.”

Dash turned back to face him. “We cool?” he asked, just like he’d done for Dale.

“Y-yeah, uh. We cool,” Foley agreed shakily.

“Sweet.” And then Dash held out a fist.

Foley flinched back for a second, and then when the fist didn’t collide with his face, he blinked at it. “Oh.”

Dash tried to ignore the way that Foley’s reaction made that gross feeling show up in his gut again.

Foley tentatively reached out and bumped his fist against Dash’s, and Dash gave him a tight smile. “Cool.”

That taken care of, he turned back towards Fenton. “Alright, and as for you.”

Fenton went stiff, his fingers spasming on the cup of his smoothie. “What about me?” he squeaked.

“Drink your damn smoothie,” Dash ordered him, pointing a finger in his face. “And don’t even think about trying to grab your own lunch before I get there today. I’m not letting you make the same mistake twice, I’ll help you pick out your meal.”

“Wait, you’re still on that?” Fenton asked, looking flabbergasted.

“You’re still a walking twig?” Dash mocked him in the exact same tone. Fenton gave him an annoyed look, so Dash huffed out a breath through his nose. “Look, nerd. This is only the beginning. Once you get a little bit more weight on you, I’m dragging your ass to the gym. You look like you only know push ups as a type of bra.”

Fenton coughed and spluttered, his face going red, while Manson let out a sharp, indignant noise next to him, but Dash just rolled his eyes and steamrolled over their protests.

“Look, you need all the help you can get, Fenton. Do you even know how to do a pistol squat? Doubt it. But after I’m done with you, you’ll be pumping iron the size of Foley’s head. I’m gonna make you healthier, even if it kills you.”

“How is that helping me?!” Fenton demanded, sounding slightly hysterical, but Manson jumped on something else Dash had said.

“Pistol squats?” Manson said incredulously, shaking her head. “Look at him. You’d be better off starting with sumo squats.”

Dash did a double-take, staring at her in blank shock. “Y-you work out?!”

“We have a gym in my basement,” she said. Her cheeks had gone red, but her chin lifted high in defiance.

Dash looked between her and Fenton, thinking hard. “...what else do you think would be good for his workout plan?”

She studied him right back. “You willing to do leg day?”

Dash’s expression soured; he hated leg day. But admitting that felt like showing some kind of weakness to Manson, so he just forced himself to speak through gritted teeth. “Yes.”

“Good. I’ll put together some suggestions. We can…talk over lunch, I guess. I assume you’re going to force Danny to sit with you again?”

Dash hadn’t really decided yet. He was going to base it on how Fenton did in the cafeteria. But now that they were talking potential workout discussion, he found himself nodding. “Yeah, of course. Gotta make sure he’s eating properly, after all.”

“Guys, I’m right here,” Fenton groaned. “Can you stop talking about me right in front of me?”

“We can’t help it if you’re kind of useless at taking care of yourself,” Dash responded with a shrug, his eyes landing on the peeling bandage on Fenton’s cheek.

Before he knew what he was doing, Dash’s hand shot out. He grabbed the side of Fenton’s head, his palm cupping along his jaw. Fenton froze, eyes widening in shock, but before he could pull away, Dash’s thumb came up and smoothed the bandage back down into place.

“See? Can’t even put a bandaid on properly,” Dash muttered almost to himself, shaking his head in dismay.

Fenton barely breathed, his wide blue eyes staring up at Dash’s face in complete confusion. How had Dash never noticed how blue they were? They were so pale and striking, like little chips of ice. His thumb absently stroked over the edge of the bandage, making sure the corner stayed down, and Fenton’s breath hitched a little under the attention.

Only then did it hit Dash what he was doing. He stepped back quickly, his hand falling away from Fenton’s face, and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, his face feeling like it was on fire. What the fuck was that?

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, so, uh. Like I said. I’ll see you guys at lunch. Don’t be late!”

And then he stomped off as quickly as he could without making it look like he was running away. He was at least halfway down the hall before he heard the trio start talking again, and then all he could make out was Foley’s bewildered voice.

“Did that really just happen?”

Chapter Text

After that, things got kind of…weird.

Not a bad weird, though. Just. Strange. Different. Dash wasn’t sure if he liked it yet or not.

It became a bit of a routine for Fenton, Foley, and Manson to sit with the A-listers at lunch now. It was a bit awkward at times, and occasionally things did get tense or someone would say the wrong thing, but they were usually able to move past it quickly. Dash was pleasantly surprised to find out that Manson was a bit of a fitness fanatic under all her icky goth stuff, and Foley’s tech obsession meant that he was able to fix up any broken electronics the A-listers handed to him. Dash’s walkman hadn’t been working for weeks, but Foley had it patched up again in five minutes flat when Dash had finally handed it over.

The one who seemed to do the least talking was Fenton, but even he chipped in with the occasional story about the weird stuff his parents got up to, or with makeup tips he’d picked up from his sister that had Paulina and the cheerleaders leaning in close to take notes. Dash couldn’t help but notice how those blue eyes would light up whenever a topic came up that Fenton seemed particularly interested in.

One lunch period, Star had mentioned her parents were taking her out to see a meteor shower that weekend, and Fenton had immediately perked up like a dog smelling a treat. He’d spent the next twenty minutes lecturing them on the different annual meteor showers and the best times and places to see them. Dash should have been bored, should have threatened Fenton to just shut up already, but he’d been so animated and happy talking about shooting stars that Dash had gotten completely sucked in and forgot all about protesting.

It was so weird, but it hit Dash then that he didn’t think he’d ever really seen Fenton smile. It was kind of…nice. Cute, even.

Dash almost choked on the sip of water he'd just taken the moment that thought had popped into his head. He'd ended up nearly coughing his lungs out trying to clear them, but thankfully his little choking episode at least distracted him from whatever weird thoughts he was having about Fenton for a bit.

A few days into their new routine found Dash actually spending some one-on-one time with Fenton. Foley and Manson had needed to duck out of lunch early to hand in a group report they’d nearly forgotten about, leaving Fenton alone with the rest of the A-listers. He’d gone a bit quiet once his usual squad was gone, but Dash couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t as meek and withdrawn as he’d been the first time Dash had dragged him over. Fenton had even managed to make a little joke at Justin’s expense that left the rest of the table snorting into their food while Justin flipped him off good-naturedly.

When the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, Dash and Fenton both started heading in the same direction since they shared their next class, while the rest of the A-listers peeled off the other way, headed to their own classes.

They walked side-by-side for a moment in surprisingly companionable silence, before Dash abruptly noticed Fenton glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes, before nervously looking away again. Fenton looked at him a second time, and then away once more. His eyes flicked over for a third time before Dash finally got fed up.

“What?” Dash asked gruffly. “What are you looking at?”

“You, uh. You…got a little ketchup on your face,” Fenton told him meekly.

“I do?”

“Y-yeah, right, uh. There.” Fenton pointed towards Dash’s cheek.

Dash brought up a thumb and swiped it across the area, before glancing down. Sure enough, there was a streak of red across his fingertip. “Huh. Did I get it?”

“Not…not all of it.”

Dash drew to a stop in the middle of the hallway, Fenton stumbling to a halt a second later. Dash waited until Fenton was facing him fully, and then asked, “Where did I miss?”

“Closer to your, uh. Lips,” Fenton directed, gesturing towards his own mouth to clarify.

“Here?”

“N-no, um. Here, let me just. Um.”

Dash went still as Fenton’s fingers abruptly darted forward, swiping across his face just a hair's breadth from the corner of his mouth. The movement was so quick that for a second Dash thought he might have imagined it, but then Fenton held up his thumb sheepishly to display the splotch of ketchup on it.

“There. Got it,” he said weakly.

“T-thanks,” Dash choked out, feeling oddly warm all of a sudden, the spot where Fenton had touched him still tingling. What the heck? What was that all about?

“No problem,” Fenton told him. “I know how much of a dick Mr. Zucker can be about people bringing food into the labs. I had a mustard stain on my shirt once, and he actually made me go change before I could do any of the experiments.”

“Are you serious?” Dash huffed, momentarily forgetting about the weird butterflies that had shown up in his stomach.

“What, you’ve never heard his lab safety rants?” Fenton asked, an amused twinkle in his eye.

Dash rolled his eyes. “Fuck, those are the worst. He goes on for like twenty minutes and then blames us when we can’t finish our labs in time.”

“I know!” Fenton agreed with a peel of bright laughter, a wide grin on his face. “It’s so stupid!”

He said something else then, but Dash wasn’t paying attention to his words anymore. His gaze was locked on Fenton’s face, tracing over the way that he was smiling so wide his eyes were crinkling at the corners. It made Fenton’s whole face look so much younger, healthier even. His cheeks didn’t look so sunken when they were flushed with laughter, his eyes didn’t look so bruised when they were shining with happiness.

He looked so different from the exhausted loser that Dash had come to know so well that Dash barely recognized him, and he was left staring at Fenton in complete disbelief as he struggled to match this smiling, carefree Fenton with the one in his memories.

Fuck. Fenton really was kind of cute.

Thankfully they made it to their classroom before Fenton could notice Dash’s sudden lack of focus. They went their separate ways once they entered the room, Fenton heading over to Mikey near the front of the lab while Dash sauntered towards his lab partner at the back. He dug his stuff out of his backpack and passed it over to his partner, the other student well practiced in taking over most of the work for Dash by this point in the semester.

Still, as the rest of the class went on, Dash found himself regularly looking over at the back of Fenton’s head. Whenever Fenton happened to look back at the same time, he gave Dash a small, pleased smile.

For some reason, Dash’s guts churned every time Fenton looked his way.

Must have been something he ate.

Dash found himself watching Fenton more closely now as the days went on, sort of wishing that he could see that smile and hear that laugh again. He’d never really noticed before how, when Fenton was happy, he seemed so much brighter, more lively. His eyes would look less shadowed and haunted, and he’d sit up straighter, showing that while he was still on the skinny side, he also wasn’t as small as Dash had once believed.

The next time Dash heard Fenton laugh again, he felt his heart skip in his chest. He didn’t even hear whatever Marco had said to make Fenton laugh that hard, his head whipping up as soon as that sound rang through the air. Fenton’s cheeks were flushed a nice, healthy red, and his eyes were practically twinkling with happiness.

Dash watched Fenton laughing, and for a moment he couldn’t help but think that Fenton looked more than cute, he was actually kind of…beautiful.

Wait. What the fuck. What the fuck?

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Dash abruptly shoved himself out of his seat, feeling both hot and cold all over. He saw everyone staring up at him questioningly, but he just muttered out, “Bathroom,” and hurried out of the cafeteria, heading towards the closest men’s room. He shoved through the door, uncaring of the loud bang it made when it crashed against the wall, and stalked over to one of the sinks.

He stared at himself in the mirror, taking in his red face and the tiny beads of sweat on his temples. His breathing was slightly heavy, and his eyes were wide and slightly panicked.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked his reflection.

It just stared silently back at him, looking just as lost as he felt.

Dash tried his best to put whatever the hell that weird moment had been out of his mind.

He’d briefly thought about taking his confusion out on Fenton himself. Fenton was the one who was making him confused, so he should be the one to deal with the consequences, right? But every time he thought about shoving Fenton in his locker or dunking his head in the toilet, he remembered how nice Fenton’s smile was, and he found he couldn’t do anything that might take that away. And Fenton was smiling more, Dash couldn’t help but notice. He still came to school late more days than not and he fell asleep in class constantly, but he also looked happier and more alert when he was awake. Dash was pretty sure that meant that his meal plan idea was working.

The problem was, Dash wasn’t the only one taking note of his change of behaviour.

It was another early morning of getting ready to work out, Dash and Kwan standing side by side in the locker room getting their gear on, when Kwan had abruptly turned towards Dash and given him a wide, sunny smile.

“You know, it’s been nice lately.”

Dash wasn’t completely awake yet, so he just grunted to acknowledge that he’d heard Kwan speak, rather than say anything. Thankfully Kwan was fluent in Dash-speak, so he cheerfully continued.

“I gotta say, I really like hanging out with Sam, Danny, and Tucker now,” he said, pulling his tank top on over his head. “I got to hang out with Sam that one time, and she was kind of mean, but like, in a cool way? I got to go to this really cool book store and everything! So it’s nice we get to be friends again.”

Dash grunted again.

“And I mean, I feel like you agree with me, right? Like, that’s why you’re helping Danny out, right? Because you like him?”

Immediately Dash was wide awake.

If he had been thinking clearly, Dash would have realized that Kwan just meant that Dash liked Fenton as a friend. He’d just been talking about how he was excited to be friends with Manson again, after all. But the problem was that the reason Dash was so tired this morning was because he had woken up in the middle of the night from a dream involving Fenton. The dream had included a lot more bare skin than Dash had ever seen Fenton show, and he hadn’t been able to fall back asleep after out of fear that the dream would come back.

So between the lack of sleep and the dream lurking in the back of his mind, Dash unfortunately took Kwan’s words completely the wrong way.

“I don’t like Fenton!” he snapped, slamming his locker shut and whirling on Kwan. Kwan shrank back in alarm, clearly not expecting such a violent reaction, but Dash didn’t even pause to give him a chance to object. “I don’t give a shit about Fenton! He’s a loser and a weakling! The only reason I’m helping his sorry ass is to impress Phantom, remember? Phantom is cool, and a hero, and if he wants me to help people more then that’s what I’m doing. But Fenton? Please, Fenton is just a waste of space.”

“Oh.”

Dash’s eyes went wide as a new voice spoke up. He turned around and immediately spotted Fenton standing in the doorway of the locker room, an old battered gym bag slung over his shoulder.

Shit. Dash had totally forgotten that today was supposed to be Fenton’s first workout session with them.

“D-Danny,” Kwan choked out helplessly, glancing between Dash and Fenton. “I…Dash didn’t mean…”

Dash didn’t hear whatever protests Kwan offered, because his hearing had cut out the moment he’d locked eyes with Fenton. There it was again. That expression of resigned disappointment. Like Dash was some sort of poorly trained dog that had peed on the carpet again. Unlike last time, where that look had forced Dash to stop and think, this time it made an ugly rage start bubbling up in his chest. How dare Fenton make him feel guilty like this? How dare he look at Dash like Dash was somehow lesser than him, like Dash was failing to meet his expectations. How dare Fenton even give him all of these stupid confusing feelings in the first place?!

Just like that, Dash surged forward, grabbed Fenton by the collar of his shirt, and slammed him into the row of lockers just next to the doorway. Fenton cried out in surprise, so Dash gave him a little shake to make him shut up. Fenton stared up at him with wide eyes full of dismay.

Fuck, they still looked so blue.

“Listen, Fenturd,” Dash hissed into Fenton’s face. “You are a loser. Nothing changes that, not even me taking pity on you and trying to make your loser life less awful. You should be down on your knees every day thanking me for paying attention to you and offering my help. So don’t you dare look at me like that.”

“I-I’m not looking at you like anything,” Fenton choked out, his eyes focused on the far wall rather than Dash’s face. His body language screamed submission, and Dash was pretty sure if Fenton was able to sink through the wall, he would have.

Still, Dash gave him one last light shake for emphasis, and then set Fenton back down on the ground. “Good.”

He stepped back, and watched as Fenton weakly tried to straighten his shirt, still not looking up from the floor. “I, uh. Don’t think I’m up for a workout today,” Fenton said quietly. “I, um…pulled something.”

Dash opened his mouth to tell Fenton he’d have to do the workout anyways, since Dash had spent so much time on prepping it, but before he could speak, Kwan cut in.

“Yeah, that’s…that’s fine Danny,” he said quickly, glancing at Dash for a split second as he pushed past to stand between Fenton and Dash. “We’ll, uh. Plan for another time, kay?”

“Kay,” Fenton agreed in a small voice, and then he all but fled from the locker room.

The moment he was gone, Kwan spun on his heel towards Dash, and Dash actually recoiled away from him. He’d never seen Kwan look so upset.

“Dude. What the fuck was that?!”

Oh shit. Kwan never swore. If he was swearing, Dash must have really fucked up. But his pride wouldn’t let him admit to that, so he just puffed up his chest and glared right back. “What?”

“What? What?” Kwan echoed in disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now? What’s gotten into you?!”

“He was getting a little too chummy,” Dash grumbled defensively. “He was forgetting his place.”

“As our friend?!”

“He’s not our friend!” Dash snapped. “I don’t like him! He’s a loser I took pity on!”

All at once, the fire went out of Kwan, and he gave Dash a look that was so disappointed that immediately Dash wanted to sink down into the floor and hide.

“He’s my friend,” Kwan insisted quietly. “And I like him. Not sure I can say the same thing about you right now.”

It felt like Dash had been punched in the chest. No matter what kind of awful things he’d said or done, Kwan had never really done more than given him a reproachful look or quietly told him off for being too harsh afterward. He’d never openly confronted Dash like this before.

“Kwan…I don’t —”

“You know what?” Kwan interrupted coldly. “My triceps are actually still a little bit sore from yesterday. I should probably rest a little bit longer so I don’t tear something.”

And without another word, still dressed in his workout clothes, Kwan scooped up his things and walked out of the locker room.

Dash was left behind, standing alone, wondering how the hell he’d fucked everything up so badly.

The next three days were some of the worst of Dash’s life.

Kwan, to Dash’s relief, didn’t tell any of the rest of their friends about what had gone down in the locker room, so no one else was looking at Dash like he was a piece of shit, but it was painfully obvious that something was up. Dash and Kwan had never fought before, so the fact that they weren’t speaking to each other made everyone else feel super awkward.

It was also hard to miss it when Fenton, Foley, and Manson abruptly stopped sitting with them at lunch. Dash was mildly surprised to notice that several of the other A-listers kept glancing over across the cafeteria to where the trio had taken their lunches, looking kind of sad and longing. Dale was the worst, toying with a bottle of hot sauce on the table that Dash knew for a fact he had wanted to share with Foley.

It was bad enough that the awkwardness even spilled over to the rest of the school, everyone walking around on eggshells and speaking quietly in the halls as they tried to figure out what had happened between Kwan and Dash to change their dynamic so drastically. Dash had even heard some of the teachers whispering about it to each other, their eyes boring into Dash’s back when he walked past.

Then to top it all off, the second Dash walked into the house after school on Friday, he spotted glass shards all over the front hallway, the remains of a vase strewn across the tile.

Great. His parents were fighting again.

“It was just a day at the driving range!” his dad roared, his voice coming from the kitchen. “That’s what we do to network with clients, Debbie! We play golf!”

“It’s the middle of winter, Brad!” his mom shot back, equally loud, her voice full of venom. “Months away from playing. You’re telling me you needed to be out all day with him this far off from the clubs opening up?”

“Fucking hell, it was one time, Debbie! Jesus fuck, will you ever let it go?”

“One time that I’ve actually caught you balls deep in another man, you mean,” his mom spat. “Who knows how many men you’ve fucked where I haven’t caught you.”

Dash didn’t want to hear this. He was so sick of hearing this. They had this same argument every single time his dad was out of the house for even an hour longer than usual, and Dash was so, so tired of hearing it. So, before they noticed that he’d even come home, he tiptoed back out the door and let it quietly click shut behind him.

Of course, now there was the question of where to go next, since he didn’t want to be home. Normally this was the point that he would call up Kwan and ask to hang out, and Kwan would invite him over without question. But he and Kwan were fighting, so that option was out the window. And Dash had never opened up enough with any of his other friends about what his home life was like to risk calling any of them.

Dash shoved his hands in his pockets, growling under his breath, and started walking back down the front walkway. Whatever. He’d figure something out.

He found himself walking all the way back to school; he really wasn’t in the mood to be around other people right now, and he figured it would be pretty empty. However, once he arrived, he saw that the lights were still on, several of the teachers’ cars still parked in the lot, and realized there must have been some kind of meeting going on.

He cursed softly under his breath as he stood there in the shadow of the building, shivering lightly while his toes slowly turned into ice cubes. Even though he was pretty sure by the time he got home again his parents would be finished fighting and back to pretending like nothing was wrong, Dash didn’t feel like playing along with their act tonight. And it seemed like such a waste to have come all this way, just to turn around and leave.

His eyes traced over the building as he pondered over his next course of action. Suddenly he stilled when his eyes landed on the ladder that hung down from the school roof; normally it was retracted so that none of the students could use it to climb up, but someone must have been doing some work up there earlier because the ladder was currently in the lowered position. Dash quickly looked around, but he couldn’t see any sign of lights up top, nor were there any work trucks nearby. The ladder must have been accidentally left down after whoever had gone up there last had finished their work.

And what kid out there could resist a chance to climb up on the school roof?

A plan in mind now, Dash hurried towards the ladder, his shoulders hunched and his eyes darting from side to side to check for any onlookers. When he reached the ladder, he pulled his hands from his pockets and placed them on the rung above him, hissing as the cold metal burned against his bare palms. Still, he’d messed his hands up worse with the weights in the gym, so Dash ignored the pain and started hauling himself up the ladder. He reached the top quickly and threw himself over the edge, stumbling across the asphalt coating that covered the school’s roof. Brushing himself off, he started walking towards the edge of the roof that faced the back parking lot, figuring he could sit on the edge and just enjoy the peace and quiet for a while.

He made it three steps before he realized that the roof wasn’t as empty as he’d first believed. He jerked to a stop, staring with wide eyes and the glowing figure floating in the air in front of him. Phantom stared back at him, looking equally surprised, his white hair drifting softly around his face while he hovered two feet above the roof. They both stared at each other, completely at a loss for a moment. And then Phantom’s expression began to sour, becoming less surprised and more annoyed.

“Oh,” Phantom said flatly. “It’s you.”

“I’m sorry!” Dash blurted out quickly, holding his hands up defensively. “Sorry, I had no idea you were up here, I didn’t mean to, uh, intrude?”

Phantom just frowned at him, completely unimpressed. “What are you doing here, Dash?” he drawled.

“S-sorry,” Dash repeated, ducking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m just…I was just…looking for someplace to, uh. Get away from things, you know? I-I can leave, though. S-sorry for bothering you, I’ll just…go.”

He started backing away, trying to find the ladder that had let him up here, but now that he was on the roof, the glow of the streetlights in the parking lot didn’t reach up this high, and he was struggling to make out which way to go through the darkness. He stumbled a few steps back towards where he thought the ladder might be, cursing under his breath. And then his foot caught on one of the pipes that traversed the roof, and he let out a loud yelp as he started to plummet towards the ground.

An ice-cold hand on the collar of his jacket jerked him to a halt, and a second later Dash found himself on his feet again, a little shaken by his near-tumble, but otherwise no worse for wear. He turned to look up at Phantom floating overhead in wonder.

“T-thanks for the save,” he said bashfully.

“See Dash?” Phantom said snidely, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “That’s how you actually help someone. Maybe take some notes. Notice how I did it out of the goodness of my own heart instead of doing it to make myself look good for someone else?”

It took Dash a second to parse what Phantom was talking about, but then it hit him all at once and he felt his face flush while his heart simultaneously sank into his stomach. Of course. How could he have forgotten? Manson and Foley were friends with Phantom. Fenton must have told them about what had happened in the locker room, and they must have gone straight to Phantom and told him all about it as well. Great, just great. As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

Staring down at his feet, with his hero looking down on him with faintly-veiled disgust, Dash had never felt so small in his life.

“Yeah. I, uh. Guess I’m just not very good at it after all,” Dash choked out. “The, um, whole…helping people thing.”

“Understatement,” Phantom muttered, crossing his arms.

“I, uh…heh,” Dash forced out a self-deprecating chuckle, rubbing at the back of his head. He could feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, and he hoped desperately that he’d be able to keep it together long enough to get through the rest of this awful conversation and escape before he destroyed what little respect Phantom might still have for him. “I tried!” he said with false brightness. “I mean, I apparently sucked so bad at it that I actually messed up my friendship with Kwan, but hey, I swear I tried! That…that’s gotta count for something, right?”

Phantom just silently stared down at him, and Dash wilted, any bravado he had left withering away under that cold look.

“I just…” Dash swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. “I just…I get it. I do.I fucked up. I fucked up really bad, and…I didn’t mean to. I just…I thought I was helping, but instead I made everything worse.”

Phantom still didn’t speak or move, but for a moment, Dash thought he saw the ghost’s cheek twitch, like he had bitten the inside.

Dash wasn’t sure what compelled him to ask the question next — maybe it was because Phantom was a hero who always helped everyone, no matter who they were, and always seemed to know the right thing to do — but he found himself blurting out, “How would you fix it?”

Phantom jerked back, his brow furrowing in confusion and offense. “Excuse me?”

“It’s just…it’s like you kinda just said, you’re good at helping people, right? And I know you probably never have to say sorry because you always do the right thing and stuff, but…but if you were in my shoes, how would you fix it?”

Phantom just looked completely lost now. “You…what?”

Taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts, Dash tried one more time. “Look. I’m assuming you heard about what happened…with Fenton, right?”

“I…know the details, yes,” Phantom said slowly, his eyes narrowing.

“I…I fucked up. I said some awful stuff, and…and I didn’t even mean it! But I just said it, and obviously it was bad, and I want to fix it somehow, but like…how?” Dash looked up at Phantom imploringly. The ghost had saved his life so many times, surely this would be yet another instance. “What should I do?”

“Have you tried apologizing? Like, at all?” Phantom asked, sounding almost exasperated.

Dash bit his lip and shrugged. “Well, yeah. But I can’t even get close to Fenton. Every time he sees me, he turns and walks away, and that’s assuming Manson and Foley aren’t blocking me.”

Phantom went still, blinking almost in surprise, before he abruptly looked away. “Yes, well…maybe he needed a chance to cool off a bit. I imagine he’s still pretty angry at you. What you said…that hurts. A lot.”

Uh oh. From the sounds of it, Phantom hadn’t just heard about what had happened second hand through Foley and Manson. “Uh…did you…did you talk to Fenton? About it?”

“Something like that,” Phantom said evasively, still not looking at him.

“I…I didn’t realize that you and Fenton were actually…friends,” Dash admitted. “I mean, I never see him with you, so…”

“He…doesn’t like getting involved in the thick of things,” Phantom said quickly, his gaze fixed on something in the far distance. “But he helps me out from the sidelines, you know?”

“Oh,” Dash said, his voice small. “...I see.”

“Yeah.”

“...how much did he tell you?” Why was Dash asking this? Wasn’t it bad enough that Phantom knew about what happened in the locker room? Did he really want to invite Phantom to shit on all of his bad decisions even more?! But a small part of Dash still wanted to at least get Phantom to acknowledge that it hadn’t been all awful, that Dash had at least done something good. “Did he, uh, at least mention the smoothies?”

Phantom finally looked back at him. Once again, he gave Dash a raised eyebrow. “I know about the smoothies, yes. Why?”

“I mean…it wasn’t all bad, was it?” Dash asked hopefully. “Did he at least, uh. Like that part?”

Phantom’s expression softened the tiniest bit. “It was weird, and kind of aggressive, but…for you, it was oddly thoughtful, so…yes. I guess.” And then Phantom let out a frustrated sigh and started rubbing at his temples. “I’m just…I’m just so confused, though, Dash. Like, what exactly were you trying to do, there? With the smoothies, and the meal plan and…and all of it?”

Dash shrugged, looking away. “I was just trying to help. I mean…you help people all the time, right? I just…I guess I just wanted to be a little bit like you. You’re, heh, can’t believe I’m saying this, but…you’re my hero, man.”

God, his blush must have been visible from space. But when he dared to glance back up at Phantom, he saw that the ghost looked kind of…flustered? His eyes were wide and there was the faintest hint of green across his cheeks. Heh, cute.

The sight left Dash feeling the tiniest bit bolder, and it gave him the confidence to add, “I actually have to admit, it was kind of…nice, being nice. Like…I get it. I get why people help other people. It just…felt kinda good, to help Fenton out.”

Phantom shook his head like he was clearing out cobwebs, and frowned. “But you said you were only doing it to get my attention,” he pointed out, though from the furrow of his brow it felt less like Phantom was accusing him and more like he was confused.

“Yeah, well…I didn’t actually mean it,” Dash admitted. “It’s actually been really nice, hanging out with Fenton, Foley, and Manson. I was getting to know Foley and Manson from all the times we worked together and helped you out, but I hadn’t had a chance to really spend any time with Fenton. I didn’t realize he was so chill. The three of them, they’re…they’re actually kinda cool.”

“That…then why did you say it?” Phantom asked, looking even more lost. “Why would you still…call Danny a loser and shove him around like that, if you didn’t mean it? Why lie?”

Dash went still, the blood in his veins turning to ice. Because that was the core of the issue, wasn’t it? Why had he said that? Why had he pushed Fenton around, and pushed Kwan away? Deep down, he knew exactly why he’d done it, but was he really ready to confront it? Was he really ready to admit it, out loud, what he’d been so afraid of? God, he hadn’t even really admitted it to himself yet, how the hell was he supposed to confess it to Phantom, his hero?

But then he looked up and saw the lost, almost hurt expression on Phantom’s face. He wanted to be honest. He wasn’t sure why his treatment of Fenton left Phantom so upset, it wasn’t like they were the same person, but it clearly mattered to the ghost. He…probably owed at least someone the truth, and as a ghost that didn’t really spend much time with anyone Dash knew, Phantom was probably the safest person to tell.

Heart pounding in his chest, Dash swallowed thickly, and made up his mind. This was it. He was going to finally confess the truth.

“D-did you ever think you might like guys?” Dash blurted out, instead of any of the words he’d been practicing in his mind. What the fuck, brain?

“A-bwuh?” Phantom choked, his eyes bugging out of his head. Whatever he had been expecting, clearly it wasn’t this. “E-excuse me?!”

Dash hurried to clarify before Phantom could take offense. “I just…have you…have you ever thought about…were you ever…did you ever think you might be…gay?” By the end, Dash was all but whispering, almost unable to even force the question out. His face was beet red, and his heart was beating so fast he felt almost lightheaded, but the longer that the silence stretched and Phantom didn’t immediately turn on him in disgust, the more Dash felt his nerves steady.

“I…can’t say I’ve ever thought about it too hard…” Phantom said carefully, eyeing Dash with a considering look. “Why?”

This was it. Moment of truth. Let’s do it right this time. Dash breathed in through his nose a few times. His throat was so dry that it clicked when he swallowed, but even still, he had to do this.

“I think I might be,” he croaked.

Phantom’s eyebrows flew up. “Gay?”

“Y…yeah.”

“Okay…” Phantom breathed out. He looked like he was mulling Dash’s confession over, but he still wasn’t threatening to throw Dash off the roof or calling him a dirty fag, so this was already going better than Dash could have ever dreamed. “That’s…wait, but what does this have to do with what you said to m — Fenton?”

Dash just gave Phantom a helpless look. It was too much to say it out loud, on top of everything else.

There was a pause as Phantom stared right back in confusion, and then his face went slack in understanding. “Oh.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Oh. Wait, no. Wait, what?!”

Dash shrugged, feeling bashful. “I mean…he…he’s really…cute.”

“Wait, you’re trying to tell me that you…you like...?! But you said…?!”

Phantom didn’t seem capable of finishing a sentence at the moment, but Dash got the idea anyway. Hunching his shoulders, he sighed.

“I panicked, okay?” he said defensively. “I thought Kwan had figured out that I…kind of have a crush on Fenton, and I…I freaked out.”

“But…but why?” Phantom seemed to be calming down now. For the first time since Dash had arrived on the rooftop, he actually drifted down so that he was standing on the asphalt in front of Dash rather than floating overhead. When he landed, Dash was mildly surprised to see that Phantom had to look up a little bit to meet Dash’s eyes; he’d never really seen Phantom standing this close before and for some reason he always assumed the larger-than-life ghost hero would be taller than him. He also looked to be the same age as Dash, which Dash found kind of strange. He could have sworn that someone had mentioned Phantom was fourteen at one point, but somehow that didn’t seem right anymore. He looked older than fourteen. Had Phantom aged? Was that even possible for a ghost?

And then Dash realized that Phantom had asked him a question, and was waiting for an answer. Unfortunately Dash had been too distracted by Phantom’s proximity to pay attention, and he’d completely missed it. “Uh…what?”

“Why did you freak out?” Phantom asked, either missing Dash’s lack of focus or choosing to ignore it. “Were you worried Kwan would take it badly, or something? Because, I mean, I’ll admit I don’t know him all that well, but I can’t see Kwan, like, punching you over it. Is it…” Phantom bit his lip, looking concerned. “Is it just because it’s…Danny?”

“Uh, dude, did you not hear me?” Dash asked, staring at Phantom incredulously. “I might be gay, and I might have a thing for Fenton!”

“So it’s because you have a c-crush on Danny and that…bothers you?”

“Dude, no! It’s — I’m — I’m gay! Okay? I’m gay, that’s the thing!”

“I’m not sure what the problem is, here,” Phantom confessed, looking baffled. “I mean, is that such a bad thing?”

“I —” Dash froze, eyes wide, feeling like he’d just been hit upside the head with a crowbar. Was it? Was it such a bad thing? If he asked his parents, the answer would be a very firm ‘yes’, of course. His mom had plenty to say about fags and how depraved they were, usually while giving his dad a poisonous glare. And his dad…his dad’s sleeping around with other men was what was destroying their family. If his parents weren’t so determined to stick together for appearances’ sake, Dash was sure they would have divorced long ago, but his dad was a lawyer and his mom had a daytime TV cooking show. Both of their jobs relied heavily on being seen as the perfect all-American family. If it got out that they weren’t completely 100% happy, or worse, if it got out that Dash’s dad was gay? It would ruin them.

God, and if they had to deal with a gay son on top of everything else? Dash shuddered just thinking of how badly they’d take it.

But he didn’t think he could say all of that to Phantom, even if he was Dash’s hero — one earth-shattering revelation was enough for one night, thanks — so he just squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s…it’s bad.”

“...do you really think that?” Phantom asked him softly. Dash opened his eyes to see Phantom looking up at him with profound sadness, and Dash quickly looked away and shrugged.

“It’s not natural, to like guys,” he said firmly, his mother’s words echoing in his head. “It’s wrong.”

Phantom’s gaze dropped to the ground, his lips thinning. “...you asked me if I’ve ever thought I might be gay.”

Dash watched him warily, sensing that he might have said something wrong. “Yeah? You said you didn’t think you had?”

Phantom gave a dismissive shrug, but Dash could see how tense his shoulders were. “I mean…I don’t think I’ve seriously considered it, but I’m not…not interested in guys, if that makes sense.”

“Uh…huh?”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “My point, Dash, is that while I can’t say I’ve ever really liked a specific guy, that doesn’t mean I don’t like guys. I just…haven’t found one that caught my eye, I guess. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there.”

“You…are you serious?” Dash breathed.

“It’s called being bi,” Phantom told him, and then winced. “I mean, at least I think it is. It’s…kind of new to me too, I’ll admit. Sam has been helping me figure some stuff out.” He reached up and pushed his bangs out of his face, looking oddly shy.

“Huh.” Dash looked down at Phantom for a moment, studying his face. This close, he could finally take in all of the details; there were tiny glowing freckles dotted across Phantom’s cheeks and nose, and his eyes weren’t just plain green, they glowed with an inner light. His white hair looked soft and fluffy, to the point Dash was tempted to reach up and pet it just to find out what it felt like.

In short, Phantom was hauntingly, achingly beautiful. And yet, all Dash could think about was how wonderful the sound of Fenton’s laughter had been, how pretty his eyes had looked when they sparkled with happiness. Phantom was gorgeous, but Dash was coming to realize that his crush on Phantom was just that; a puppy crush.

Which meant whatever the hell he was feeling about Fenton was legit. Fuck.

“Ooooh shit,” Dash said shakily, the realization washing over him like a tidal wave.

“You okay?” Phantom asked him, looking concerned. “I mean, I…I’m not sure if I’m…y’know, if that’s —”

Registering how his reaction must have come across, Dash cut Phantom off with a splutter. “No, no! It’s not that!”

“Oh.”

“I just…shit.” Dash wiped a hand across his mouth, struggling for composure. “It just hit me that I’m, like. Actually interested in Fenton. Like, fuck.”

“Uh. Right. You…kind of said that already?”

“No, like. Ugh. Like, I don’t just think he’s cute. I, like…like like him, you know?”

“Oh? Oh. Oh.” Phantom gave him a look of trepidation. “Like you…it’s not just, hey, he’s cute?”

“No, I, uh. Think it’s a bit more than that.”

“Oh.”

“And of course now I’ve completely fucked up any chance I might have had,” Dash groaned. “Like, not that I even had one. Pretty sure he just likes girls, right? He and Manson are still dating, aren’t they?”

“Huh?” Phantom said absently, looking like his mind was a million miles away. “What? Oh. No. They broke up a while back.”

“They did? Damn, I missed that completely,” Dash muttered. “Still doesn’t change the fact that I fucked up.”

“...you did,” Phantom agreed, still looking a little bit stunned, but like his focus was slowly returning. “You kind of really did.”

“Which brings me back to my original problem,” Dash sighed, throwing his head back in frustration. “How do I even start fixing it?”

Phantom’s lips thinned, and he looked down for a moment and sighed. “Just…start with the apology,” he suggested, his shoulders slumping. “That’s probably the best first step. And then, I dunno, maybe actually listen to him? Instead of doing what you think will help him, maybe ask what he might want help with?”

“I tried, remember? He won’t even look at me right now.”

“He was upset,” Phantom reminded him with a grimace. “Maybe by now he’s cooled off a bit. And…I can, uh. I’ll…talk to him for you.”

Dash couldn’t help but perk up hopefully. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“...yeah, sure,” Phantom sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Thank you!” Dash cried, spontaneously scooping Phantom up into a big hug. The ghost yelped in surprise, his icy cold chest pressed against Dash’s, but Dash didn’t mind. His hero was helping him out and saving his butt yet again! “Thank you, you’re the best!”

He let Phantom go, and the ghost stumbled back a few steps, looking woozy. “...pecs…”

“What was that?”

“N-nothing! I, uh. Right. I need to…go talk…to Danny. Right. I should. Go do that.” Phantom then hopped into the air, but he looked a little unsteady as his spectral tail formed beneath him.

Dash frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Fine! I’m fine,” Phantom quickly reassured him, darting up a little bit higher into the sky. But then he paused and looked back down towards the roof. “Oh, and Dash?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve…been fighting with Kwan too, right?”

Dash winced, ducking his head. “...Yeah,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Sounds like Danny isn’t the only one you need to apologize to, then.”

“Yeah, you’re…you’re right.” Dash sighed. “I’ll…I’ll talk to him too.”

Phantom raised an eyebrow expectantly at him. “You sure?”

“I promise.” Dash even drew an ‘x’ over his heart for good measure.

Phantom let out a soft chuckle, and nodded. “Alright then. I’ll see you around!”

And then he shot off into the starry night, quickly fading from view. Even still, Dash stood there on the roof for a while after he’d gone, staring up at the stars twinkling overhead. He’d never really spent much time looking up at them, but now that he was here, he could see the appeal. Maybe Fenton was on to something when he started going on about stargazing and stuff like that.

Thinking of Fenton again made his stomach start churning while his heart simultaneously started racing in his chest. He…he liked Fenton. He genuinely liked Fenton, what the fuck? What was wrong with him?

But Phantom hadn’t cared. Phantom had been completely accepting of the fact that Dash might be…gay. Heck, Phantom had even said there was a chance he could be into dudes too, hadn’t he? And if Phantom liked guys too and didn’t seem to think it was such a big deal…maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with Dash after all.

Maybe his parents were wrong.

Sighing to himself, Dash realized he had a lot to think about on his long walk back to his house.

But first he had to figure out how to get off this goddamned roof.

Chapter Text

The next morning was rough.

It had taken Dash a while to get off of the school roof, and by the time he’d found the ladder again, the teachers’ meeting must have ended, because suddenly the parking lot was full of people. Dash had been forced to hang out on the roof for another thirty minutes, waiting for the lot to clear, so that he could sneak down without being spotted.

By the time he’d made it home he was tired, dirty, and freezing cold. He’d stalked through the front door, absently noting that someone had cleaned up the broken glass in the hallway, and immediately trudged up to his room. His mom had stopped him on the landing upstairs and demanded to know why he was home so late, but he’d mumbled some excuse, and she’d let him go without much fuss. A quick shower later and Dash had fallen face-first onto his bed, not even bothering to put on more than a pair of boxers.

Despite his exhaustion, he’d still been stuck tossing and turning all night, his mind chewing over his talk with Phantom, his realization about Fenton, and the looming conversations he knew he would need to have.

The more he thought about how much he’d screwed up with Fenton in the locker room, the more it occurred to him that it wasn’t exactly the first time he’d treated Fenton that way. Memories of the countless times Dash had shoved Fenton into his locker, dunked his head into toilets, and just generally treated him like total shit started to flash through his mind like a slideshow of all his worst hits. Wedgies, elbows to the ribs, dodgeballs to the face…god, was there any part of Fenton that he hadn’t hurt in some way?

Fuck. He’d been an asshole to Fenton for years. Sure, he’d eased up lately, and he was trying to be nicer to Fenton and his friends, but was that really enough to make up for making his life a living hell?

Obviously, the answer was no.

God, Dash was so fucked. Even if he did manage to apologize, Fenton wouldn’t ever give him the time of day again. Fenton shouldn’t give him the time of day again. If Dash was a better person, he’d completely cut himself out of Fenton’s life, leave him the fuck alone, and convince his parents to move to another state so that Fenton never had to see him again, just so he could finally have some peace.

But every time those thoughts started to circle through Dash’s head, he remembered the shy little smile Fenton had given him in the hall when he’d wiped away the ketchup on Dash’s cheek, or the time Fenton had managed to surprise Dash into laughing at one of his stupid jokes and he’d given Dash this little pleased grin like he was proud of himself. Fenton had every reason to hate Dash, but he hadn’t looked like he hated him in those moments. So maybe…maybe Dash still had a chance?

His heart would start to flutter with hope, and then the memory of Fenton’s face in the locker room would come surging back up to the forefront and send Dash spiraling all over again, starting the cycle all over.

When his alarm had gone off the next morning, he’d barely managed to sleep more than a couple of hours, and he was so tired that he felt like he was going to puke.

Still, when Pookie pushed his little body into Dash’s room and hopped up onto his bed to give Dash his morning kisses, Dash couldn’t help but crack a smile at the little chihuahua.

“Hey buddy. I’m starting to realize I’m a bit of a giant prick. You still like me at least, though, right?” he asked the dog.

Pookie’s tail was wagging so hard his butt was shaking with it, his tongue darting out to lick his nose several times.

“Cool. At least someone does.”

With a groan, Dash forced himself to climb out of bed to face the day. Today was going to suck no matter what, no need to add being late to the pile. Besides, he could smell something delicious being cooked from downstairs; his mom must have been trying out that new pancake recipe she’d been talking about last week.

“Come on, Pookie,” Dash yawned as he opened up his bedroom door, letting the small dog precede him out into the hallway. “Let’s go face the music.”

Despite his best efforts to mentally prepare himself, Dash still couldn’t stop his fingers from nervously clenching around the smoothie in his hands as he made his way through the school towards Fenton’s locker. It was later than Dash usually got to school, so there was a good chance that Fenton wouldn’t be there anymore. Then again, maybe Fenton hadn’t even made it to school yet. He’d been late the past two days with no explanation, maybe today would be no exception.

Dash wasn’t sure if he actually wanted that to be the case or not. On the one hand, if Fenton wasn’t there at his locker, Dash wouldn’t have to talk to him just yet, and he could live in the blissful state of denial where things might actually turn out okay for a little bit longer. On the other hand, he’d have to talk to Fenton eventually, and it was probably easier to do it now rather than let Fenton keep stewing or let things get worse.

Then again, if Fenton wasn’t there, Dash would have more time to actually come up with something to say. Despite fretting over how much he’d screwed up with Fenton all night last night, he was still drawing a blank on what he could say to even begin making up for his past behavior.

With Foley, it had been easy. Dash hadn’t really cared what Foley thought, so he didn’t really take the time to find any special words to apologize. But with Fenton? Dash’s mind conjured up that resigned expression Fenton had hit him with after their confrontation in the locker room once more, and his jaw clenched in frustration. He hated that look now. He was so sick of Fenton looking at him like that. He wanted…well, he wanted Fenton to look at him with that beautiful smile on his face again, but at this point Dash would be happy if Fenton just stopped ignoring him. He wanted to spend time with Fenton again, get to know him better this time, do it right this time.

And for that to happen, he had to apologize, and it had to go perfectly.

When he turned the corner and spotted Fenton standing at his locker with Manson beside him, Foley absent for the moment, Dash drew up short, stopping so suddenly that the student behind him crashed into his back. Normally Dash would have shoved the person back into the lockers for daring to collide with him, but right now he was stuck rooted to the spot, watching Fenton chatting with his friend, completely unaware that Dash was staring. The other student quickly scurried by, shooting Dash a wary look as they passed.

The movement must have caught Fenton’s eye. He glanced over absently, still saying something to Manson, when he suddenly did a double-take, his jaw snapping shut as his eyes widened. Manson frowned at him before she too glanced over and caught sight of Dash lingering across the hallway, watching them like some sort of stalker.

Her expression darkened as soon as she registered who she was looking at, but to Dash’s relief, she didn’t storm over to give him a piece of her mind like he half expected. Instead, she lingered at Fenton’s side like a mother lioness hovering over her cub, her violet eyes promising pain if Dash dared mess with them.

Dash’s eyes briefly darted around, searching for any sign of Foley. Between the two of Fenton’s groupies, Foley seemed to like Dash slightly better, so Dash was hoping for a bit of support, but unfortunately Foley was nowhere to be seen.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Dash decided it was now or never. Manson wasn’t trying to chase him off and Fenton wasn’t running away, which must have meant that Phantom had spoken to them on Dash’s behalf after all. If he turned tail and ran after Phantom had stuck his neck out for Dash like that, then any chance Dash might have had of reconciling with Fenton would be well and truly dead. He needed to act now, or not at all.

His usual confident swagger was nowhere to be seen as he shuffled meekly across the hall to face Fenton, Manson lurking at his shoulder like a murderous shadow. As soon as Dash was close enough, he held up the smoothie cup as a peace offering.

Fenton looked down at the smoothie, and then back up at Dash, before nervously glancing away. “Yes, Dash?” he asked, licking his lips.

“I, um. Brought you your smoothie,” Dash mumbled, still holding the drink aloft. “I, uh. Know you never really asked for them, but. Um. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. And, um. Y-you really should eat more.”

“...you don’t have to do this, Dash,” Fenton told him quietly, his arms coming up to wrap around his middle. “I’m fine.”

“You’re…really not,” Dash pointed out. “You’re a walking twig, but…that’s not the point. A-and that’s not what I came over to say, anyways.”

“...fine.”

Dash stared at Fenton, the smoothie still held awkwardly between them, but despite Fenton’s words, his eyes were still pointedly fixed on the clock down the hall. Feeling frustration starting to build up in his gut, Dash let out a little growl, and shook the smoothie in Fenton’s face.

“Will you just…just take this already?! Or-or just tell me you don’t want it so I can throw it out, that’s fine too!”

Fenton finally glanced over at him for a second, but almost immediately he looked away again. He took the smoothie at least. “...thanks, Dash.”

“You…ugh!” Dash let out a groan and rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. “I just…fuck. Look. I…I need to talk to you. Not…not now. After school? Is. Is that okay?

Fenton didn’t reply, so Manson stepped in to take over, shifting so that she was between him and Dash, staring Dash down with her arms crossed and a sneer curling her lip. “And why should Danny bother talking to you, Dash? You made your opinion on him pretty clear at this point, I think Danny’s done wasting his time with you.”

Dash flinched. Damn, she always knew exactly what to say to make it hurt the most. She and Paulina seemed to have that in common, though Dash was smart enough to know that if he made that comparison to either girl, they’d probably stab him with their nails.

Dash choked back the next three things that he wanted to say, all insults that he would have hurled back in her face on reflex. He was trying to do better, trying to be better, both for Phantom, and now for Fenton. Turning around and snapping at their friend would be the opposite of helpful right now.

So rather than say the first thing that came to mind, Dash paused a second and took a deep breath, remembering Coach’s training on keeping focus even in the midst of an emotionally charged game. Then, once he was sure he wasn't going to snap at her, he let out his breath slowly, and began to speak.

“That’s the thing,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “The stuff I said in the locker room…I didn’t mean it. And…I owe you an a-apology. For a lot of stuff. Not just the locker room.”

Manson’s eyebrows flew up in surprise, but she didn’t interrupt, so Dash forced himself to continue.

“And I’m going to apologize, but…but not right now. We’ve got class soon and…and I wanna make sure I say stuff right, so I need some time to figure out what I want to say so I can do it properly, but, like…I wanted to make sure that you knew? That that’s what I’m going to say? Just…fuck, this is hard. I’m really bad at this.”

Manson let out a snort. “Yeah, you really are,” she agreed. “Although this is admittedly already a way better apology than the one you gave Tucker, I’ll give you that.”

Dash shot her a tired glare, before turning his attention back to Fenton. His face was burning and his guts were squirming, but he continued on regardless, his words like broken glass in his throat. This was so hard, it sucked so much, but he had to do it. He had to try and make things right again. It was important. “Look, just…can I please talk to you after class? I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day, I just…wanted to make sure I had a chance to at least try to say sorry properly later.”

Fenton’s eyes flickered up to glance at him, before they dropped down to stare at the smoothie that was slowly melting in Fenton’s hands. There was an odd flush across his cheeks, and the way he refused to look at Dash made his heart drop towards his stomach. Who was he kidding? Fenton would never agree to be alone within fifty feet of Dash again if he could help it. There was no way Fenton would agree to this!

“...okay,” Fenton said quietly, so softly that Dash almost missed it.

Still, Dash couldn’t help but perk up a little in disbelief. “R-really?”

“Y-yes, Dash. It’s…fine. I can meet up with you after school.”

Relief flooded through him, and Dash’s shoulders slumped. “Fuck. Okay. Okay, great. I’ll, uh. See you then?”

He started to back away, planning to give Fenton his promised space, when Manson suddenly cleared her throat.

“Ahem? Forgetting something, Baxter?” she asked him pointedly when he looked over at her, her hands poised on her hips.

He blinked at her. “Uhhh…?”

She rolled her eyes and huffed. “Where exactly is Danny supposed to meet you for this incredibly ill-advised discussion?”

“Oh. Oh, right! Um…”

Dash wracked his brain to think of a private place that they could go that would be relatively deserted after school let out, but still accessible for students. Normally he would have suggested the locker room, but after what had happened in there last time, that seemed like a bad idea.

“T-the wood shop should be empty,” he suggested, mentally going through the school's club roster and picking one that tended to finish early today. It helped that half the football team did various other extracurriculars to keep them busy during the off season, so Dash was usually well informed on all of the school's club schedules. Dash was pretty sure Sean had mentioned that woodworking club had been in a bit of a slow period recently. “It’ll be unlocked too.”

“Hmm? Oh. Right. Unlocked. That’s good,” Fenton muttered. He was staring down at his smoothie like it contained all of the answers to life’s questions, but Dash did see him briefly glance up to meet Dash’s eyes before looking back down again. “I’ll see you there.”

“Do you want Tucker and I to be there too, Danny?” Manson asked him softly under her breath, a frown on her face.

Dash winced, but bit his tongue so he wouldn’t immediately blurt out an objection. He should already be grateful that Fenton was willing to meet up with him at all; he honestly half-expected he’d never even get this far. If Fenton wanted to bring his friends for emotional support or whatever, then Dash would have to just suck it up and deal.

To his relief, however, Fenton quickly shook his head. “That’s okay. I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

Manson looked unconvinced, her lips thinning, but she didn’t give any further protest.

Finally Fenton lifted his head and looked at Dash properly. His expression was still mostly wary, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes that Dash couldn’t quite place. Somehow it still got Dash’s pulse jumping, just a little bit, to have those blue eyes focused on him again.

“I’ll see you after class, Dash,” Fenton told him simply, just as the bell rang.

“Yeah. After class,” Dash echoed, stumbling back a little bit to let Fenton and Manson pass. He watched them go, their heads bent together as Manson started whispering something into Fenton’s ear, but all too soon Dash was forced to leave so he could make it to his own locker in time to grab his things.

Cool. So he had until the end of the day to figure out how to apologize properly to Fenton. Great. There was only one problem.

He sucked at this. As much as he hated to admit to being bad at something, he was bad at apologizing for the shit he did. He needed help. He needed someone who was good with people, who knew how to say stuff to make things better.

He needed Kwan.

Dash hadn’t forgotten what Phantom had said about needing to apologize to Kwan. But Kwan was his best friend, not Phantom’s. Dash knew Kwan, knew that when he was upset, he usually wanted some space to process what had happened before he tried tackling the issue again. As much as he knew he needed to apologize, Dash also knew he had needed to give Kwan some time to calm down first too.

Hopefully he’d given Kwan long enough, though, because Dash was out of time and desperately needed help.

So the moment he spotted Kwan shuffling down the hall ahead of him between first and second period, Dash broke into a jog to catch up, clapping Kwan on the shoulder to pull him to a gentle stop as soon as he was in reach.

“Yo, Kwan. You got a sec?”

Kwan looked up in surprise to see who had stopped him, but when he caught sight of Dash, his expression soured. He turned to face Dash, his hand coming up to adjust the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Um.” Dash bit his lip and glanced around nervously. The bell was about to ring for the start of their next period, but the hall was still pretty full with students. His eyes landed on the door to the men’s room, and he jerked his thumb towards it. “C-can we talk for a sec?”

Kwan’s eyebrow rose, but he didn’t object, simply headed towards the bathroom without comment. Dash trailed behind him, shaking out his hands to try to get rid of some of his nervous energy.

When they pushed inside, Dash spotted that the room wasn’t as empty as he had hoped. There was only one other person inside, a scrawny little freshman who was in the middle of washing his hands, but when he looked up and spotted Kwan and Dash entering, he blanched.

“Oi, you,” Dash growled, cracking his knuckles. “Out. Now. Or you’re going right back into that stall head-first.”

The freshman yelped and immediately abandoned the sink, scooping up his backpack and scurrying towards the door.

As he passed, he briefly shot Dash a terrified glance, and it was so reminiscent of the look that had been on Fenton’s face when Dash had grabbed him in the locker room that Dash immediately froze in place, his breath hitching in his chest. The freshman even had messy black hair like Fenton, though his eyes were brown instead of blue. It brought Dash right back to the locker room, Fenton pinned up against the wall by his collar while Dash spit venom in his face, the memory so vivid in his mind that for a second Dash felt like he was back there in that moment where everything had gone so terribly wrong.

Dash was left frozen there, staring at the spot the kid had been standing, long after the bathroom door had swung shut behind him. The silence stretched, and Dash could hear Kwan shifting somewhere behind him, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move. His whole body felt numb.

“...Dash?” Kwan prompted quietly, when Dash continued to stand there in silence.

“...I’m a bad person,” Dash whispered to himself.

“What was that?”

“I’m…I’m a bad person,” Dash repeated, louder now so that Kwan could hear him. “I’m…Manson was right. I’m an asshole. An actual, honest-to-god asshole.”

“Dude…” Dash heard Kwan’s quiet footsteps approaching, and then there was a gentle hand on his shoulder, spinning him around. He was facing Kwan now, but for some reason Kwan’s face was all blurry. Dash frowned, confused. Had he hit his head or something?

It took him a second to realize that, oh. No. He was just starting to tear up a bit.

Kwan must have noticed as well, because he jerked back a little bit the moment he saw Dash’s face. “Dude,” he said softly. “What’s…what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” Dash blurted out. He brought his sleeve up to angrily scrub at his eyes, rubbing away the tears that were gathering on his eyelashes. “Shit. That’s what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to say sorry, and here I am blubbering like an idiot instead.”

“No, no, man, it’s okay,” Kwan soothed, his other hand coming up so that he was holding Dash by both shoulders. “You’re clearly going through something, bro, and I’d be a jerk if I tried to make this about me right now.”

“I’m just…shit!” Dash sobbed, before swallowing thickly. He took a few shuddery breaths, trying to get himself back under control. “I never really thought about it, but I’m a bad person, aren’t I?”

“Dash.” Kwan frowned and gave him a little shake. “Dude. No. What the heck?”

“I’m-I’m mean!”

Kwan tilted his head in concession. “Sometimes, yeah. But everyone has their bad days.”

“My bad days are every day, Kwan!” Dash snapped, throwing his hands wide to gesture towards the door. “Did you see the way that kid looked at me?!”

“You’re bigger and older than him.”

“I just threatened to dunk him in a toilet just for being in the same room as us. I didn’t even think about it, it was just reflex!”

“Okay. Okay, clearly this is messing you up,” Kwan told him gently. “Let’s just…calm down for a second. Okay?”

“I just — !” Dash jerked away from Kwan’s hold and spun to brace himself on one of the bathroom sinks, his breath heaving. Maybe Kwan had a point. He was too worked up to even think straight right now.

“...Listen,” Kwan said quietly, appearing over Dash’s shoulder in the mirror. “Let’s get out of here. You don’t look like you’re in any state to go to class right now, man. Maybe a change of scenery will help.”

Dash shot him an incredulous look over his shoulder. “You wanna ditch?”

Kwan just shrugged carelessly in response. “The receptionist likes me. I’ll just tell her we need a sick day and she’ll make sure it doesn’t go on our records.”

For a moment, Dash considered it, before his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I…no, man, I can’t leave. I’m supposed to be meeting up with Fenton after class.”

Kwan’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Really? Why?”

“I need to apologize to him,” Dash admitted, rubbing at his nose with his sleeve again. The tears that had been pricking at the corners of his eyes seemed to have slowed, but his nose was still running a little bit. He sniffed. “That’s half the reason I’m here. I need your help.”

He then scoffed and shook his head. “Isn’t that fucking terrible? I’m only apologizing to you because I need your help. More proof I’m an awful person.”

“Dude, would you stop it? You’re not an awful person,” Kwan insisted. “You told me you were sorry, and I was mostly mad at you for being mean to Danny anyways. You said you were going to try to apologize to him too, right? That’s all I wanted! I’m really glad that you’re making that effort!”

“Kwan, how the hell is one apology going to make up for literal years of asshole behavior?” Dash demanded, pushing off from the sink so that he could face Kwan again. “It can’t! I can’t! And I can’t even stop myself, apparently! I’m a dick by default!”

“Look, my mom always said that the best way to apologize is to tell the person you’re sorry, promise not to do the thing again, and then actually follow through on that promise,” Kwan said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the row of stalls at his back. “Sounds like you know what you did wrong, so now we just have to work on not doing it anymore, right?”

“You make it sound so easy,” Dash groaned.

“It kind of is, though,” Kwan said simply. “And I know bad habits are hard to break, but I can help you. Me and the rest of the team are always here to support you, you know that, right?”

“The rest of the team?” Dash scoffed. “Bro, they’re almost as bad as I am.”

Kwan shrugged again. “You’re the team captain,” he pointed out. “They follow your lead. You say Fenton is a loser and we should shove him around? We do that. If you change your mind and say that we should cut it out, I’m telling you, man, they’ll drop it.”

“Are you saying it’s my fault that the whole football team is made up of a bunch of…of bullies?” Dash wrinkled his nose. It sounded so juvenile when he put it like that, but it was hard to deny that the term fit, and he couldn’t really think of a better one.

“No,” Kwan quickly denied. “N-no, that’s…that’s not what I meant. I’m pretty sure some of the guys would have acted up no matter what you did. I’m just saying that if you change the way you act, the rest of them will probably follow suit, you know? You’d be setting a good example.”

Dash’s eyes lost focus as he thought hard about what Kwan was telling him. The silence stretched, but Kwan, to his credit, simply waited for Dash to chew it over, letting his points sink in.

“My mom and dad always told me that it was important to hang around with the right kind of people,” Dash said slowly, tapping his fingers against the outside of his thighs as he tried to process what he was thinking. “That if I wanted to go far in life, that I had to make sure I made good connections. And that if I started hanging out with the wrong sort of people, it could ruin my chances for a bright future.”

“I’m sure they meant well with that advice,” Kwan offered quietly, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“I just always thought they meant that I needed to make sure that the wrong sort of people stayed the hell away from me. And I thought…I was so sure that Fenton was that wrong kind of people, that he was a loser that would only drag me down, just like they said. I mean, look at his parents. They’re totally weirdos who hunt ghosts for a living. I didn’t want to end up like them, and I figured being around Fenton meant that I’d be dragged down with him.”

“...What changed?”

“We actually started to hang out with him, and…I realized that he’s just some guy. He’s skinny and weak and a nerd, yeah, but…he’s also kind of funny and smart and…”

Dash almost confessed about his crush on Fenton then and there, but he managed to choke it back at the last second. Although Phantom had been right in that Kwan probably wouldn’t punch him for admitting to liking guys, Dash had no idea if Kwan would get uncomfortable about it. Or worse, maybe Kwan would hate Dash for having such unnatural tastes. He was only just managing to get Kwan back as a friend, he couldn’t jeopardize that now but admitting to Kwan that he might be…gay.

So he cleared his throat roughly to get rid of the last of his tears, and shook his head. “If he was a little bit bigger and faster, I could totally see him playing on the team with us. Foley is into fantasy football like us, and Manson’s actually got some great pointers for my workouts. It was cool having lunch with them. They’re just…people. And I kind of liked hanging out with them, even though I know they’re the exact kind of people my parents would say are the wrong sort.”

“Your parents can be wrong, sometimes,” Kwan told him gently.

Dash let out an ugly snort. “Don’t I know it. But fuck. I just…never questioned it. I always thought I was doing the right thing, making sure I only hung out with people who were popular like me. Look where it got me, though.”

“Hey, man.” Kwan pushed off of the bathroom stall to grab Dash by the shoulder once more. “The important thing is you’ve realized that there’s a problem, and you want to try to fix it, right?”

“Yeah, but how?” Dash asked helplessly.

“It’s like I said. Say sorry, promise to do better, and then do better.” Kwan smiled and gave Dash’s shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Your parents’ advice kind of sucked, but my mom’s advice has never let me down before. First step is the apology.”

It was similar enough to Phantom’s advice that Dash felt himself start to slowly relax. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, you’re right. That’s…that’s something I can do.”

“Awesome. So let’s get out of here and head over to that coffee shop around the corner. They’ll let us hang out there all afternoon without asking questions as long as we buy something, and there’ll be no one else there but a bunch of old ladies talking about knitting.”

“Fine, but I’m going to pay for it,” Dash insisted, sticking his hand into his pocket to make sure his wallet was there. “And we need to make sure we’re back in time for my meet up with Fenton. I can’t miss that.”

“Don’t worry, bro. I’m going to help you craft the perfect apology, so that Danny will have no choice but to forgive you. Ooh, maybe I can help you write a poem! Sam likes poems, maybe Danny does too!”

“Sure, okay,” Dash agreed, following after Kwan back out into the hallway so that they could make their way to the office. “At this point I’m willing to try anything.”

It was probably for the best that Dash and Kwan had ditched classes that day. Turned out that the school was attacked by the tech ghost that liked to pop up, and he’d taken over the school’s PA system to cause chaos until Phantom had shown up to deal with him. While Dash was a little disappointed that he’d missed an opportunity to see his ghost hero, he was also kind of relieved. The last thing he wanted was to face Phantom before he’d managed to apologize to Fenton.

Dash wasn’t even sure if Fenton would be there when he and Kwan finally left the coffee shop to head back to school. A lot of kids had left school early or been picked up by their parents after the ghost attack, so there was a good chance that Fenton had taken the opportunity to bail early too. Still, Dash knew he had to at least see if Fenton had waited, just in case, so shortly after the last bell of the day, Dash pushed his way through the crowds of students streaming out through the front doors so that he could step back inside. He could still feel the lingering warmth of Kwan’s last pat of encouragement on his back, and it gave him the strength to keep walking forward, even when the butterflies started swarming in his stomach again.

By the time he reached the hall where the wood shop was located, the place had pretty much been cleared out, just as he had expected. He paused just outside the door, fighting down the urge to hyperventilate as he worked up the nerve to enter. What if Fenton wasn’t waiting inside? What if he was?!

He must have stood there hemming and hawing for a full minute before he heard something clatter to the ground from within the workshop. All at once Dash stiffened, realizing exactly what that meant. Fenton was inside, which must mean that at least he was willing to hear Dash out. But the longer Dash stood out here like a coward, the more Fenton would probably think he wouldn’t show, and he might just decide it wasn’t worth sticking around anymore. Dash had to go inside now. He had to.

Stupid legs, move!

He must have looked like some sort of cheesy horror movie zombie as he shuffled into the wood shop on stiff legs, so nervous that he could barely blink. But when Dash stopped in the doorway, he immediately spotted Fenton sitting on one of the tabletops waiting for him, his legs swinging absently to knock his heel against one of the metal table legs.

Dash paused for a moment, just studying Fenton. There was a row of windows along the back wall that let the late afternoon sunshine stream through to bathe the room in warm light, and the way the sunlight was catching on Fenton’s profile made him look like he was haloed in gold. His hair was highlighted with sunshine so bright it looked almost molten, and his eyes seemed to be glowing. Sawdust swirled through the air around him like gentle snowflakes, their pattern twisting and curling around him as his legs kicked. He looked so beautiful that for a moment Dash couldn’t catch his breath.

But then Fenton looked up. His eyes went wide when he spotted Dash standing there, staring at him, and then he bit his lip and quickly looked back down towards the floor.

“Hey, Dash,” he greeted him quietly.

The sound of Fenton’s voice was the jolt Dash needed to knock him out of his daze. “H-hey, Fenton. Uh. T-thanks for meeting me here.”

“I said I would,” Fenton pointed out somewhat mulishly. His hand came up to scratch at his cheek, and Dash absently noticed that he had a bunch of bruises up and down his arm that Dash was pretty sure hadn’t been there this morning. Had he gotten hurt in the ghost attack? From what little Dash had heard from Paulina when he’d run into her earlier, Phantom had cleared it up relatively quickly, so it was unlikely that Fenton had gotten mixed up in too much chaos during the attack.

Oh no. What if those bruises were caused by one of the other football players? Fuck, he hoped Kwan was right, and that if he cut down on the bullying that the rest of them would follow suit, otherwise he could see some major fights breaking out between him hand some of his teammates coming up in the near future.

“You, um. Wanted to say something?” Fenton prompted when Dash didn’t start speaking right away.

“Huh? Oh! Yeah! Right, shit.” Dash shook his head and finally stumbled out of the doorway, approaching Fenton’s table. As he got closer, he saw Fenton’s expression grow more guarded, so he made a point to stop well back, giving Fenton plenty of space. “Yeah, I uh. Needed to talk to you. It’s about…how much of an asshole I’ve been to you.”

“If this is about the locker room, it’s fine, Dash,” Fenton said quickly, his eyes darting away. “You just caught me off guard, you didn’t, like. Hurt me or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. We can pretend it never happened or whatever.”

“That’s not — shit. That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean just…just the locker room. I mean I’ve been an asshole to you for years, and I’m…fuck, I’m just. Sorry. Really, really sorry.”

Shit. That wasn’t what he was supposed to say. He and Kwan had worked through how this apology should go all afternoon, and he was already screwing it up! He had to get this back on track, fast!

“W-what I’m trying to say is. Uh. Fuck. Uh, b-broken glass is really sharp, and cuts you so you bleed. You shouldn’t grab it…wait, shit, no. That was the third line. Fuck! I knew I should have written this down!”

“W-what are you doing?” Fenton asked, looking more baffled than wary now.

Dash huffed a breath of air upwards so that it ruffled the short hairs over his forehead. He really needed to get a haircut. “Kwan helped me write an apology poem.”

Fenton blinked in surprise. “You wrote me…an apology poem?”

“Kwan said Manson likes poems, so we thought maybe you did too,” Dash said defensively, feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment.

Fenton covered his mouth, clearly trying to hide his laughter. He wasn’t successful at all.

“T-that’s actually kind of sweet of you, Dash. But, uh. Poetry is Sam’s thing, not mine. You don’t…don’t need to worry about remembering it.”

For a second, Dash was stuck staring at Fenton, feeling kind of dumbfounded. He never thought he’d see Fenton smile at him again, but here they were. Dash was admittedly making a fool of himself, but Fenton was giving him that gentle smile with a happy twinkle in his eyes once more. It almost made all of the crap Dash had dealt with today kind of worth it.

“I just…really wanted to say sorry,” Dash eventually told him, dragging his eyes away from Fenton’s face by sheer force of will. He locked them on one of the table saws across the room so that he wouldn’t just stare dumbly at Fenton instead of talking to him. “About everything. And that I’m going to try to do better.”

He fell silent then. He’d pretty much butchered the apology that he and Kwan had worked out, but he’d tried to at least hit on the main points that Kwan had made sure to emphasize. Say sorry. Promise not to do it again. And then actually keep that promise.

Well, that third part wasn’t exactly something he could do just yet, but he was sure as hell going to try.

The quiet stretched out between them for longer and longer, making Dash’s nerves ramp up. Why hadn’t Fenton said anything yet? Should Dash say something more? What more could he even say at this point?! Dash wanted to turn his head so badly, but he was terrified he’d look over at Fenton and see him looking back with an expression of disgust. Or worse, that not-quite-disappointed-but-resigned look he’d given Dash so many times now. Dash didn’t know if he could handle it if Fenton was looking at him like that again.

Finally, finally, right before Dash thought he’d snap from the tension, he saw Fenton shift out of the corner of his eye and heard him take in a shaky breath.

“...thank you, for your apology, Dash,” Fenton said slowly. Dash tilted his head just enough to catch sight of Fenton’s fingers clenching on the edge of the table top he was sitting on, his knuckles going white, before his fingers slowly relaxed. “I realize that that probably was…kind of hard for you, and I appreciate it.”

Dash couldn’t stop himself from looking up, hope blooming in his chest. Fenton had accepted his apology! He’d actually accepted it!

But then he caught sight of the closed-off expression on Fenton’s face, and he felt that hope swiftly fade. That was not the look of someone who was about to fall into Dash’s open arms to tell him how wonderful he was. That was the expression of someone about to deliver bad news, and they weren’t sure how it would be received.

“...but?” Dash prompted in a small voice, already suspecting where this was going.

“But I don’t think I’m ready to start hanging out with you again, or anything,” Fenton told him carefully, his fingers flexing on the table again. “You…you’re right, you’ve been horrible to me. And I’m sorry, but a couple of weeks of you being nicer and force-feeding me food is not going to make up for all those years of torment.”

Dash’s heart plummeted. “But —”

“Just. Give me some space, okay? Maybe we can try starting over, try just being strangers for a bit instead of bully and nerd. Maybe…maybe eventually things will change and we can try being friends again, or whatever, but…right now I kind of just want you to leave me alone.”

For a second, Dash wanted to deny it, wanted to do something, say something to force Fenton to go back to hanging out with him and the others. His hand actually started to jerk up, reaching for Fenton’s arm, but almost immediately Fenton flinched back so hard it actually made the table shift. Dash froze, his hand halfway through the motion of reaching for Fenton, his eyes wide as he realized what he’d been about to do.

As abruptly as he’d moved forward, Dash jerked back, taking three big steps away from Fenton so that there was plenty of space between them. Hadn’t he just promised to be better? And here he was, almost hurting Fenton again! Fuck, Fenton had a point, Dash really did need to stay the hell away from him.

Accepting that fact did nothing to ease the sensation of his heart being ripped in half, though. He really never had a chance with Fenton at all, did he?

“I…” Dash started to speak, but his voice quickly died. What could he even say at this point? Fenton had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with Dash, and unless Dash wanted to go straight back to being a grade-A asshole again, there was nothing Dash could do but respect Fenton’s wishes and leave him the hell alone. Hadn’t that been what Phantom had told him to do after all? Ask Fenton what he wanted, and then listen to him?

They were done. Dash had tried his best, but the damage had been done long ago. There was nothing else he could do.

For a moment, Fenton’s expression seemed to soften the tiniest bit, his lips parting like he wanted to say something more. But then he suddenly went stiff, his eyes going wide with alarm, just as a weird cloud of sawdust seemed to swirl past right in front of his mouth.

“I have to go,” Fenton blurted out, already jumping down off of the work table and jogging towards the door.

His abrupt departure left Dash reeling, and he spun as Fenton raced past. “W-wait! Can’t we just —”

Dash didn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence. Fenton was out the door in three seconds flat, not pausing to look back even once. He burst out of the room in a rush, the door slamming shut hard enough behind him to rattle the glass windowpane in the middle of it, the echo bouncing around the room for a few seconds after he’d gone.

Dash was left behind, standing alone in the middle of the wood shop with nothing around him but sawdust clouds and the tattered remains of his broken heart.

He stood there long enough, trying and failing to hold back tears, that eventually the workshop door swung back open. For a moment, Dash perked up hopefully, but when Kwan’s head poked around the doorframe instead of Fenton’s like Dash’s traitorous heart had half-hoped, he wilted.

Kwan took one look at Dash’s slumped shoulders and damp cheeks, and immediately let out a soft sympathetic noise, hurrying over to Dash’s side.

“Dude, are you…okay?” Kwan asked, brows furrowed with concern.

“Yeah. ‘m fine.” Dash sniffed. “Just got a little bit of sawdust in my eyes, that’s all.”

Kwan looked unconvinced, but he thankfully didn’t press. “Okay. Did…did the apology not go well, then?”

“It went fine,” Dash said quietly, his voice hollow. “He accepted it and everything, even after I screwed it up.”

“That’s good. But?”

“But…he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore,” Dash confessed, his vision growing blurry again. “I’m supposed to leave him the fuck alone. He…he hates me, Kwan. And shit, why wouldn’t he?”

The look in Kwan’s eyes was far too knowing for Dash’s comfort, but thankfully he didn’t ask any questions about why Dash was so upset that Fenton didn’t like him. Instead, he just reached out and slung his arm over Dash’s shoulder, tucking him in close.

“It was the poem, wasn’t it?” Kwan asked with a weary sigh. “I knew I should have suggested a card instead.”

Dash let out a snort that was wetter than he would have liked, shaking his head. “I didn’t even get to do the poem. Couldn’t remember it.”

“Damn. It was a good one, too.”

“I know. A damn good one. Mr. Lancer would have wept.”

Kwan laughed. “Yeah, probably.” His smile then fell, and he gave Dash a little squeeze. “I know we already spent most of the day at that coffee shop, but do you want to go get ice cream?”

Dash gave Kwan a flat look. “Dude, it’s the middle of winter.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m kind of craving, aren’t you?”

“You’re going to blow your diet plan!”

“Come on, Dash, just this once!” Kwan pleaded. “You’ve been having a rough day, and you deserve a treat!”

Dash snorted. “Fine, I can have some ice cream. What’s your excuse?”

“Emotional support!” Kwan told him brightly. “And I’ll make sure you don’t eat too much.”

“Ugh, fine,” Dash said with a roll of his eyes, before he gave Kwan a lopsided smile. While he couldn’t say that he was feeling better, exactly, Kwan was definitely helping him feel at least slightly less awful. God, he was so glad that they were friends again. The whole situation with Fenton might have blown up in his face, but at least he had Kwan back. That actually meant the world to Dash right now.

“Come on, bro. Let’s get you a sundae,” Kwan told him, and then tugged Dash forward so that they could finally leave the wood shop and everything that had transpired there behind.

Chapter Text

Days passed.

Dash tried his best to focus on other things. Now that he and Kwan had reconciled, they were spending time together again, meeting up at the mall over the weekends and working out together at the gym. Paulina dragged him along for a shopping trip to look at prom dresses even though prom was months away, and he put up with being the bag guy while she and her mom chatted in rapid Spanish about the different dresses they’d picked out. He helped his mom out as a prep chef during one of her tapings, and he watched the game with his dad. He took Pookie for walks and out to the dog park so that he could run around for a while without a leash and sniff every single rock and pinecone he walked past.

And yet, he couldn’t seem to shake the dark cloud that lingered over his head.

He still saw Fenton and his friends at school, walking past in the halls and in their shared classes, but just as he’d promised, Dash gave them a wide berth. He did his best to avoid them, and when he couldn’t, he did his best to at least pretend they weren’t in the same room. Fenton seemed to be of the same mind, because it felt like he barely came within twenty feet of Dash these days if he could help it.

Dash did his best to give Fenton his space, as he said he would. But he couldn’t stop himself from watching.

It felt like his stomach was full of lead every time he glanced across the cafeteria at lunch to see Fenton and his friends sitting there, laughing or chatting quietly with each other. He’d zoned out more than once during class, only to catch himself staring wistfully at the back of Fenton’s head. He’d also had to stop himself several times from detouring past Fenton’s locker in the morning, half-hoping that it would be jammed again and Fenton would need his help opening it.

Thankfully, Kwan had resumed his best friend duties, and he was taking them just as seriously as before. He did his best to play interference between Dash and Fenton, drawing Dash away when he started to linger too pathetically in the hallways, watching Fenton from a distance, and coming up with ways to distract him from his heartbreak. He’d also embraced Dash’s resolution to try to become a better person whole-heartedly, and he threw himself into supporting Dash and helping him realize when he was falling back into bad habits.

He even got a few other members of the football team involved, so that even when Kwan was separated from Dash due to their different class schedules, someone else was there to play support. Duke and Marco had both had to pull Dash aside when he’d gotten a little too close to Fenton during Chem, and Marco had talked him down when Dash had nearly snapped at someone grabbing the last yogurt parfait at lunch before Dash could.

The first real test of his resolve to undergo some real self-improvement came about a week after his confrontation with Fenton, however.

He had been on his way to the cafeteria for lunch, and he was already running behind because Mr. Lancer had held him back for a few minutes to talk. Apparently the old man had noticed that something seemed off about Dash, and had asked if Dash needed someone to talk to. Dash had denied it of course — he was getting tired of talking about his feelings, and if he had to talk about them some more, it definitely wouldn’t be with Mr. Lancer — but it had taken a while to extract himself from the classroom, and by now most of the good food was probably gone.

He was already feeling pretty grumpy as he stomped down the hallway on his way to lunch, and so when he spotted two of his teammates, Sean and Myles up ahead, he’d already decided to ignore them rather than say hi. They looked busy anyway, the two of them looming over some unseen person pressed up against the lockers just outside the cafeteria. It was probably one of the shorter cheerleaders — Sean and Myles were two of the tallest players on the team, and last Dash had heard they were both interested in Sarah, maybe they were finally making a move.

But then Sean shifted slightly to the side just as Dash was walking past, and Dash caught a quick flash of short, messy black hair and wide, fearful brown eyes. He stumbled to a stop, just before the cafeteria doors, feeling his breath catch.

That wasn’t Sarah. That was that freshman from the bathroom. Shit.

All at once, Dash knew what was happening. The stupid kid probably hadn’t been looking where he was going, and he’d bumped into either Sean or Myles. They’d both always had short tempers, and Sean had a mean streak that put even Dash’s to shame. It made them incredibly effective offensive linemen on the field, but right now it meant that the poor freshman was about to find out exactly what it felt like to be a textbook shoved in a locker.

For a moment, Dash stood there, feeling a little like he was standing somewhere outside his body, watching this all go down. He could do nothing. He could turn around and continue on his way, go get himself some lunch and then sit down with his friends and enjoy the lunch break while he still had time left. He was hungry, and hey, if the kid was stupid enough to piss off two of the biggest guys in school, two guys that were Dash’s teammates and friends, that wasn’t exactly Dash’s problem. He could do nothing. He should do nothing. He should just pretend he saw nothing, ignore the mess and walk away

But then, for a split second, the freshman’s terrified gaze locked with Dash’s, and all he could see was Fenton in that damn locker room.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Dash had already stormed across the hall and grabbed Sean by the shoulder.

“Oi, what the hell is going on here?” Dash demanded the moment Sean and Myles turned to face him in alarm. “We’re fifteen minutes into lunch and you guys are still out here? You’re missing out on the curry! You’re gonna be stuck with the damn pot roast if you don’t get your asses in there!”

Sean had looked startled when Dash had grabbed him, but as soon as he registered who it was, he started to relax. “Oh, hey Dash. Yeah, yeah, we’re heading to lunch in just a sec. Just providing a little bit of tutoring to teeny here, first.”

He clapped his hand on the freshman’s shoulder in a manner that would have seemed friendly if not for the fact that the freshman visibly staggered and flinched under the blow. Next to them, Myles let out a little snicker, smirking at the smaller kid.

Dash’s heart was thundering in his chest with nerves, but he kept his expression calm as he stared down his teammates, drawing on everything he’d ever learned about showing no fear to the opposition on the field. As much as it sucked to be thinking of his own teammates as opponents, that was essentially what they were at the moment. They were members of the opposite team, and they had the ball, and Dash had to get it away from them. When he looked at it that way, it seemed much simpler.

Of course, the ball in this case was a fourteen year old boy, but Dash had dealt with weirder stuff in Amity Park. He got shrunk once. Rescuing some stupid kid from his own friends would be nothing compared to that.

So, straightening his shoulders and putting on his best Football Captain voice, Dash stared Sean down. “Look, I don’t care what the fuck the kid did, leave him the hell alone and get to lunch. We’re playing Pine Hills next week, and the last thing the team needs is you two missing out on practice because one of the teachers spotted you giving him a hard time and decided to throw you two in detention.”

The easy smiles immediately slipped off of Sean and Myles’ faces, replaced by confused frowns.

“Dude, there’s no one here,” Myles argued. “And the hall monitors aren’t going to be doing rounds for another ten minutes. No one’s gonna give us a hard time about this.”

“Yeah, besides, this little shit spilled my water bottle,” Sean added, his grip on the kid’s shoulder tightening as he gave the kid a little shake. The kid let out a small whimper of fear, and it made Dash’s blood boil.

Fenton never cowered like this. Dash had given him hell, but Fenton had always taken it stoically, with nothing more than a heavy sigh and an occasional sarcastic comment. Not that it made Dash’s actions any better, but at least Fenton wasn’t terrified when Dash came after him.

The freshman was definitely terrified.

“There’s a sink in the fucking bathroom,” Dash snapped, jerking his thumb towards the door behind them. “What are you, five? You can’t fill up your own damn water bottle?”

“Dude, what the hell?” Myles demanded, looking even more annoyed now. “We were just having a bit of fun, what the fuck crawled up your ass and died?”

“My patience for this damn conversation,” Dash replied flatly, crossing his arms and staring the two of them down. Sweat was starting to bead on his temples, his heart rabbiting in his chest as he glared at his teammates, but he stood strong and refused to back down. “It’s my job as captain to look out for the wellbeing of the team, that means making sure that you’re eating properly, and making sure you don’t get in shit with the teachers for messing with losers. He’s not worth your fucking time, Sean, just move on. Save it for when we face Pine Hills.”

For a moment, Dash seriously thought that Sean and Myles were going to fight him on this. Why the fuck had he thought this was a good idea? Why did he have to go and open his stupid mouth and get involved? He should have just walked past, pretended he’d seen nothing. He didn’t even really give a shit about this kid! It was just some stupid freshman who just happened to remind him of Fenton! Dash didn’t owe the scrawny shit anything, but here he was picking a fight with his own teammates over him! And now he was stuck sticking up for the runt, because if he backed down now, if he showed even the slightest weakness, Sean and Myles would rip him apart. He had to stick to his guns if he had any hope in hell of maintaining his reputation, otherwise he might as well give up his position on the football team and grab a calculator because there would be no way he’d ever socially recover from cracking now.

Dash took a slow, deep breath through his nose, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Sean was meeting his eyes unblinkingly, his one hand clenched in a fist while the other continued to grasp the freshman’s shoulder in an iron grip, but he wasn’t tensing to throw a punch just yet. Myles was looking between Dash and Sean, clearly waiting to see if Sean would snap first before he made a move.

The stand-off seemed to last forever, even though Dash knew it could have only been for a few seconds. Then Sean abruptly let go of the freshman with a scoff, shoving him aside to crash against the locker. The kid yelped and stumbled, but he managed to catch himself before he fell to the ground.

“Dude, hanging out with those losers really did change you,” Sean told Dash with a shake of his head. The look he gave Dash was appraising, his tone dismissive, and his eyes held nothing but disdain.

“Just…get to lunch,” Dash said with a tired sigh. Relief swept through him so strongly that he almost swayed with it, but he forced himself to keep up his no-nonsense football captain facade for just a little bit longer. He couldn’t let his guard down until Sean and Myles were gone, otherwise all of his posturing would have been for nothing.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going,” Sean grumbled as he shoved past Dash, hitting him so hard with his shoulder that Dash rocked back with the blow. A second later, Myles’ shoulder collided with Dash on his other side, forcing out an involuntary grunt of pain despite Dash’s best efforts. He turned to watch them walking away, glaring at them as they started shoving each other playfully and snickering softly to each other. Their voices were low enough that he couldn’t really hear the words, but he had a feeling he knew what they were talking about.

Fuuuck, the team’s next practice was going to be brutal. He could already feel the bruises forming on his shoulders, and he was sure that was just a preview of what those two would put him through tomorrow.

It was only after Sean and Myles were out of sight that Dash even remembered what had started this whole mess. He heard a quiet scuffing noise behind him, and he turned to find the freshman slowly pushing himself back upright against the lockers, wincing slightly as he put pressure down on one leg. When he caught sight of Dash watching him, however, he froze.

Dash glared down at the kid with crossed arms. “Haven’t you learned your lesson, kid? Stay the hell away from the football players.”

“Y-yeah. I will,” the kid said quietly, his voice still squeaky and soft. Fuck, had his balls even dropped yet?

“You better,” Dash told him, eyeing him and noting how he was still favoring that one leg. “You okay to walk?”

“Huh? O-oh. Yes, yeah I’m f-fine,” the kid stuttered nervously, not meeting Dash’s eyes. “I just stepped funny earlier and tripped. That was when I fell into that big guy. I didn’t mean to.”

Despite himself, Dash couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern for the kid. “Do you need to see the nurse?”

“I don’t think so.” The kid took a couple of tentative steps, and the further he walked, the more weight he was able to bear on the foot. Dash watched him make it to the end of the row of lockers and back, a small smile growing on the kid’s face with each step. Finally he stopped in front of Dash, looking almost proud. “Yeah, I should be fine.”

“Good. Now get the hell out of here.”

The freshman jumped a little, startled by Dash’s abrupt command, but he didn’t need telling twice. He scampered off down the hall, heading away from the cafeteria while hitching his backpack up on his back. At the last second, right before he turned the corner, he looked back and tossed a wide grin Dash’s way.

“Thanks!”

And then the kid was gone, leaving Dash standing there in the middle of the hall, reeling from emotional whiplash. The adrenaline rushed out of him now that the risk of a fight was over, and he was left feeling exhausted and shaky. For a moment, he actually had to lean back against the lockers, taking a few deep breaths as his heart rate finally started to slow down.

Standing out here in the open where anyone could see him quietly freaking out didn’t seem like a great idea, though, so once he was sure his legs had stopped shaking, he pushed himself away from the lockers. He rubbed his palms quickly across his face in a fruitless attempt to clear the frustrated feelings that were gnawing at him, before he let out a tired sigh of resignation. Whatever. That sucked, but it had happened, and at least it was over now. What was done was done. He couldn’t go back and undo it, so he’d just have to deal with the consequences later.

And yet, that last little thanks from the freshman left him with a strange warmth in his chest that Dash had to admit was kind of nice. Once again he was coming to realize that helping people actually did feel good, even if doing it kind of sucked sometimes.

Just then, Dash’s stomach grumbled, reminding him that he still hadn’t had his lunch yet. Shaking his head, he turned towards the cafeteria doors, ready to finally get his well-earned food. Hopefully there’d be something decent left at this point, although he had a feeling he was going to be stuck grabbing a slice of pizza at best.

For a split second, just as he was about to pass through the cafeteria doors, he thought he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look, but there was nothing there, the corner of the hall empty. Still, the space around him suddenly felt just a touch colder, and Dash couldn’t help but shiver a little bit.

It kind of felt like someone was watching him, but there was no one there. Weird.

Deciding that the adrenaline rush must have left him more off-balance than he’d thought, Dash growled and gave his head a little shake, and then marched into the cafeteria, determined to put the whole mess that had happened out in the hall behind him.

Dash was just starting to get used to the new routine when an unexpected phone call came through one Saturday night and completely blew everything out of the water.

It was late. He was already in his room, just finishing up a last minute assignment that Paulina had been harassing him about all week before he got ready for bed. The only source of light in his room was his desk lamp, washing everything in a warm golden glow, while Pookie lay curled up on Dash’s bed, snoring softly. It was quiet in the house, his mom reading in her room while his dad worked on something down in his office.

And then Dash’s cell phone started to ring.

He picked it up immediately and glanced down at the cracked screen. The number wasn’t one he recognized. Frowning, he hit the button to accept the call and held it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Dash?”

His frown deepened. The voice on the other end of the line was female, and sounded vaguely familiar, but he still couldn’t place it. “Yeah? Who’s this?”

“Dash, it’s Sam. Sam Manson.”

His eyes bugged out of his head. Manson was calling him?! “The fuck? How did you get my number?!”

“Tucker got it, it doesn’t matter. Look, where are you right now?”

It was only then that Dash registered how tense her voice sounded, how quickly she was speaking. The connection was a bit fuzzy, but he thought he could hear the sound of someone crying out in pain in the background.

“I-I’m at home,” Dash admitted, a sinking feeling growing in his stomach. “Why? What the hell is going on?”

“Look, I…you wouldn’t be my first choice in any situation, but we’re kind of stuck and we really need help. Can you get down to Memorial Park? Now?”

Dash’s mind immediately started running through the route he’d take if he actually wanted to drive to Memorial Park from here. He’d have to take the car, but it wasn’t too far away, less than a ten minute drive. Still, he had no idea why Manson thought he’d just drop everything and come rushing to help her in the middle of the night. She’d made it pretty damn clear that she didn’t care for him, and the feeling was pretty mutual. They weren’t friends.

“Why the hell would I do that?” Dash demanded. “It’s like the middle of the damn night.”

“It’s…it’s Phantom,” she told him, sounding breathless. “He needs —”

“I’m on my way,” Dash interrupted, already reaching for his jacket and the small first aid kid he’d taken to keeping at his bedside ever since he’d promised Phantom that he’d help the ghost out if he ever needed it. Looked like it would finally come in handy. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

The relief in her voice was audible, even through the call’s poor connection. “Please hurry.”

Dash didn’t bother saying anything else, just snapped his phone shut to end the call even as he thundered down the stairs towards the front door. As he flew past, his dad poked his head out from the office.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” his dad asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Got a call from a friend, it’s an emergency,” Dash explained in a rush, yanking on his sneakers. He reached up and snatched the car keys off of their hook by the door. “I’ll be back!”

“Fill her up before you come home!”

“Will do, dad!”

Dash burst out of the door and flew across the driveway to the driver’s side of his car. As soon as he was buckled in with the keys in the ignition, he peeled out of the driveway, tires squealing. The drive to the park should have taken him about eight minutes, but as promised he was there in five.

As soon as he skidded to a stop in the middle of the park’s parking lot, he jumped out of the car and started running. It didn’t take him long to find them, Foley standing in the middle of the path winding through the park to flag him down as he approached. Dash jogged over, noticing even from a distance how pale and scared Foley looked. That sinking feeling in his gut only grew stronger.

“What happened?” Dash asked as soon as he was within earshot.

“Da — Phantom is hurt. Bad,” Foley admitted, his expression tight. Once Dash reached him, he turned and started walking, leading Dash deeper into the copse of trees on the edge of the park. “You know Skulker? How he always calls himself the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter?”

“Of course. Heard it a million times.”

“Well apparently there’s a new group of ghosts who decided they were going to prove that they were better than him by hunting Skulker himself. Skulker came to find Phantom for help, and Phantom of course felt sorry for him and decided to help.” Foley’s voice was clipped with frustration, tension in every line of his body. “The ghost hunters showed up tonight to try to capture Skulker, and when Phantom tried to protect him, one of them snuck up behind him and hit him in the back.”

Dash hissed through his teeth. “So what are we looking at? A burn?”

Foley grimaced. “Worse.”

Just then, they broke through a ring of bushes and into a small clearing. Foley kept walking, but Dash immediately froze as he took in the scene. Manson glanced up at him, her eyes wide with both fear and relief, which was not a look he’d ever seen on her before, but she only barely registered in his mind. No, what captured the majority of his attention was Phantom, sitting on the ground, leaning heavily against Manson’s side.

That, and the six foot long fucking harpoon sticking out of his chest.

“W-what the fuck,” Dash breathed, feeling his face go slack with horror. “What the fuck?”

“Like I said, one of them got him in the back,” Foley explained calmly, like the resident ghost hero wasn’t just sitting there, shish-kebabed on a goddamned spear. “Skulker thankfully drew them away so that we could get Phantom to safety, but the problem is we can’t get the harpoon out of him.”

“Sh-should you even be taking it out?” Dash stuttered, his mind trying to dredge up what little first aid training he could remember while simultaneously struggling to comprehend what he was looking at. “I mean, usually removing the object means he’ll just bleed out.”

“He’s a ghost, though,” Foley pointed out. “He doesn’t bleed, his core repairs itself. But it can’t repair his body while that harpoon is still in him, and neither of us is strong enough to pull it out. And he’s running out of strength…”

Dash wasn’t sure what that meant, but from the ashen expressions on Foley and Manson’s faces, it probably wasn’t a good thing.

“It needs to come out,” Foley finished simply, giving Dash a helpless look.

Oh god. They wanted him to…no. No. No way, there was no way he could do this.

He reared back, crashing against one of the tree trunks at his back. “Dude, you can’t be asking me to pull that thing out of him.”

“That’s exactly what we’re asking.”

“He told us to call you,” Manson confessed quietly, drawing Dash’s attention to her. She glanced down at Phantom, her lips thinning with concern. The ghost’s eyes were half-lidded, and he had yet to react to Dash’s arrival. Dash had a feeling he wasn’t really registering anything that was happening around him right now. “He said you’d be able to help.”

“We can’t do it, but you’re stronger than us,” Foley coaxed him gently, his arms held out beseechingly. “Please, man. You’re his only hope.”

Oh god. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to do this.

He looked down at Phantom, taking in his dazed expression, the glowing green ectoplasm that flowed sluggishly down from the wound in his chest. The ghost hero did not look good, his normal bright aura faint enough that Dash almost couldn’t see it. Even as he watched, the light around Phantom seemed to dim a little bit more.

Fuck. Dash did not want to do this. But he had to.

He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, gathering his composure, and when he was sure that he’d be able to keep his cool, at least for a little bit longer, he opened them once more. He dropped to his knees next to Manson with a grunt, the first aid kit he’d brought along dumped to the side. It wasn’t going to be helpful for this after all.

“Alright. Okay. You heard them, Dash. We need to get this thing out of him,” Dash murmured to himself, studying the harpoon. The head was pronged along its length, meaning that it would be a bad idea to force it back through Phantom’s body in the same direction it had entered, which meant that Dash would have to finish pulling it all the way through. He shifted around Phantom, checking out the other side that still protruded out of Phantom’s back, and grimaced.

“It’ll be easier if we break off the part at the back. Less to pull through him. But I’m not sure how to break it without hurting him, and if it splinters, that could leave stuff behind when we pull it out.”

“It’s a ghost spear,” Foley pointed out helpfully. “It shouldn’t splinter.”

“Fine, that helps with one problem, but we still should try to break off as much as we can. Do we have any giant ghost shears or something lying around?”

Foley frowned thoughtfully, before he suddenly brightened. “No, but one of the ghost hunters did drop an ax! I think I saw where it landed, hang on!”

He darted off into the bushes, leaving Dash alone with Manson and the comatose Phantom. He and Manson stared helplessly at each other for a moment, Phantom hanging limply in her arms, looking more and more faded by the second.

When the silence became too stifling, Dash forced himself to speak. “Are you guys sure that he’ll be okay once this thing is out of him?”

“Yes,” Manson told him, her voice soft. She was staring down at Phantom’s slack face with a pinched expression, watching him for any changes. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, it’s just the first time we couldn’t get it out on our own.”

Dash’s eyes darted between her face, searching for any sign of a lie, and Phantom’s chest. He blanched, thinking of what exactly that meant for Phantom. Geez, no wonder he hadn’t seemed too fussed with the idea of setting his own dislocated shoulder. If he got impaled on a regular basis, the shoulder injury must have felt like no big deal.

“How —” Dash started to ask, but his throat went dry and he was forced to pause to clear it. He licked his lips nervously and tried again. “How many times has it happened?”

Manson’s expression turned thoughtful as she squinted up at the stars. “This is the third time, I think? Maybe the fourth, I’m not sure if the time with the Lunch Lady and the bamboo skewers counted, they were pretty small. Either way, he’s always healed before, as soon as we get the thing out of him.”

Dash was sure that her words were meant to be reassuring, but all she was doing was reiterating that Phantom put himself through hell on a daily basis just to keep the people of Amity Park safe, and half the time no one even thanked him for it. If Dash was him, he would have probably abandoned Amity Park a long time ago; given them up for the ungrateful lot they were. Why go through so much trouble helping people if all he got out of it was pain for his efforts?

“Why does he put himself through this?”

He hadn’t actually meant to ask the question out loud, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Manson looked up at him in faint surprise, before looking back down at Phantom, her expression softening slightly.

“He does it…because he feels like he has to. Because he’s the only one who can.”

“But if he just stayed out of it, he wouldn't get hurt so much.”

“Someone else would get hurt,” Manson pointed out with surprising gentleness. “A lot of someones. And Phantom doesn't want people to get hurt, so he protects them. He stands up for them, faces the things that they can't, that they're not strong enough to face.”

Dash's mind briefly flashed back to that freshman's relieved expression when Dash stepped in to save him from Sean and Myles, and he felt his shoulders slump a little. “Oh. I think…I think I get it.”

She gave him another strange look, before turning her attention back to Phantom, brushing some of the limp hair out of his face with her free hand in a strangely affectionate gesture.

“You know, I heard there was some tension between a couple of members of the football team recently,” she said conversationally.

Dash winced at the reminder of that awful practice session yesterday. He and Sean had almost come to blows, but thankfully Coach had stepped in before it had gotten out of hand. It had been really disheartening to see how many of the football team had been ready to side with Sean, standing at his back and giving Dash dirty looks. Thankfully it seemed like the majority of them had sided with him at least, but he knew such a huge division in the ranks was going to destroy their teamwork on the field. They were screwed for their game against Pine Hills. “You heard about that?”

“Casper High’s gossip mill is nothing if not efficient.” She glanced at him carefully out of the corner of her eye. “Were you…okay?”

He frowned at her. “Huh?”

“I mean. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the football players fighting,” she clarified with a shrug. “And it sounds like it was pretty bad. Given you’ve been helping us out, I guess I’m just…a little worried, that’s all.”

He couldn’t help but blink at her in shock. Manson, his number one hater, was actually worried about him? Now he really felt like his life was turning upside-down.

“It’s no big deal,” Dash quickly reassured her, looking away in discomfort. Her concern left him feeling all weird inside and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. “The team has been pissed off at me before when I mess up during a big game or something. It’s happened before, and it’s fine. It’ll all blow over eventually, Coach will make sure of that.”

“...that’s good to hear,” she said carefully.

She looked like she might say something else, but right at that moment the bushes around them started to rustle. Manson’s head whipped up, and Dash instinctively shifted so that he was crouched between her and the shifting bushes, ready to leap out and tackle whatever was approaching.

Just as he was about to attack, however, he heard a grunt, followed by a string of curses in a familiar voice.

“Tucker?” Manson called out. “Is that you? What took you so long?”

“This thing is heavy!” Foley groaned, finally pushing his way through the foliage. His face was flushed red and shiny with sweat as he heaved what looked like a massive huntsman’s axe into the clearing by its thick wooden handle, the blade dragging along the ground behind him. “And it landed all the way by the fountain!”

“You should have come back to get me,” Dash scolded, reaching out and easily lifting the axe out of Foley’s hands. It was heavy, sure, but not that heavy. He bench pressed more on a bad day. “God, I’m going to have to drag your ass to the gym too, aren’t I?”

“Please don’t,” Foley winced. “I barely survived Sam’s workout plan, I don’t even want to know what you’d come up with.”

“Guys, we can figure that out later,” Manson snapped, drawing their focus back to her and the comatose Phantom in her arms. “We need to hurry up and help Phantom, he’s not looking good.”

“Right.” Dash started glancing around the clearing, searching for a good spot to set up. As soon as he spotted the boulder resting nearby, his eyes lit up. “There! Help me get him over to that big rock, we’ll prop him up against it and it’ll let us cut off the end of the harpoon without moving it around too much while it’s still stuck in him.”

Manson and Foley didn’t need telling twice. They each got one of Phantom’s arms over their shoulders and helped carry him over to the boulder, Dash following behind with the axe. As soon as they had him in the right spot, Dash helped them lay Phantom out so that his back was resting against the rock, while the shaft of the harpoon lay across it.

“Okay, you two hold him steady,” Dash instructed, swinging the axe up into his hands to prepare to chop. “Make sure he doesn’t move.”

They nodded, both of them bracing themselves against Phantom’s side with supportive hands curled around his chest. Dash paused for a moment to make sure that they were ready, and then took his position. He brought the axe up high overhead, and then swung it down hard, right on top of the harpoon’s shaft a few inches from where it protruded out of Phantom’s back. The axe head crashed against the shaft with a loud crack of metal meeting stone, the strike leaving Dash’s arms stinging from the rebound, but he was pleased to see that the end of the harpoon had split off cleanly, leaving only a short stub left sticking out of Phantom.

“Good job guys,” Dash told Manson and Foley absently, tossing the axe aside and making his way back around to Phantom’s front. “Now hold him just a second longer, and I’ll try to pull this thing out.”

“Got it.”

Dash eyed the wicked-looking prongs along the harpoon’s head. He didn’t want to just grab and pull the harpoon by the shaft with his bare hands; that seemed like a great way to get his hands cut open by the prongs. But there was no other way to get it out other than grabbing it, so what could he do to protect himself?

After a moment’s pause, he looked down at his letterman jacket and sighed. It would definitely be thick enough to protect his hands, but the thing was going to be shredded by the time he was done. Still, his jacket could be replaced. Phantom couldn’t. So with a groan, he started stripping out of it, shivering as his bare arms were exposed to the early spring chill.

“What are you doing?” Manson asked.

“I’m not grabbing this thing with my bare hands,” Dash snapped, even as he started wrapping his jacket sleeves over his palms for protection.

It was a bit tricky figuring out how to cover them up while still making sure he could grab the harpoon, but after a little bit of twisting and folding he was pretty sure he’d settled on something that could work. That taken care of, he reached out and grabbed the harpoon by the part of the handle sticking out of Phantom’s front, locking his hands around it tightly.

“Alright, I’m going to pull on three,” Dash instructed Manson and Foley firmly, looking at each of them to make sure they were paying attention. “Be ready to brace him, you got that?”

“Got it.” They simultaneously nodded.

“Alright, let’s do this. One. Two. Three!”

Dash yanked as hard as he could, pulling on the harpoon with both hands. He had expected it to slide right out, but there was a surprising amount of resistance, a gross sucking sound emerging from Phantom’s chest as the harpoon’s shaft passed through him. Dash continued to pull, Manson and Foley doing their best to keep Phantom steady, until the end of the harpoon abruptly popped out. Dash fell back with a yelp, Manson and Foley both stumbling backward to crash into the boulder behind them.

Dash hit the ground hard, the harpoon flying out of his grip. He lay there for a moment, trying to catch his breath while at the same time praying that he’d somehow forget the sound the harpoon had made as it was pulled from Phantom’s body. That wet sucking sound was going to haunt him for months. But then he heard a soft noise of pain, and he burst to his feet, staggering back over to the trio next to the rock.

To his amazement, Phantom was starting to stir. He was lifting his head weakly, still looking dazed and confused, but he seemed to be holding himself up against the rock, rather than relying on Manson and Foley for support. Dash’s gaze dropped down to his chest, and he stared in absolute disbelief as the gaping wound that had been there only seconds before started to close up right before his eyes.

“What the fuuuuuck,” Dash couldn’t help but moan.

“Told you,” Manson said smugly, looking only slightly rumpled as she pushed herself back up to her feet. “We just needed to get it out.”

“We wha…?” Phantom mumbled, his eyes flicking blankly between her and Dash. Then he paused, staring at Dash with what looked to be deep concentration, as if he was trying to figure out who he was looking at. All at once it seemed to register, because his eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped open slightly. “Wait, Dash?”

“Y-yeah,” Dash replied weakly. “I’m here.”

“You…you actually came,” Phantom breathed, his expression shifting to something that almost looked like wonder.

Dash ducked his head bashfully, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, yeah, of course. I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” Phantom agreed, a small smile blooming across his face. “And you came. Just like you said. Wow.”

Dash could feel his cheeks heating up from all of this undivided attention. He wasn’t used to Phantom looking at him like this. Other, less popular students, yes, but Phantom? Dash was usually looking at him like he was a hero, not the other way around!

Thankfully Manson seemed to pick up on Dash’s unease, because she suddenly stepped forward and wrapped her arm around Phantom’s shoulder. “Alright, ghost boy, I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day. Let’s get you back to your lair to rest.”

Phantom tore his gaze away from Dash to give Manson a confused look. “Wait, what happened to Skulker?”

“Not your problem right now,” she told him simply, bustling him towards the edge of the clearing. “You’re in no shape to help anyone right now. You need some rest, and then once you’re feeling better, you can go after Skulker.”

“But Saaaam!”

“Don’t you ‘but Sam’ me!”

The pair quickly disappeared between the trees, their voices fading as they walked further away. Dash was left standing awkwardly in the middle of the clearing, wondering if he should follow, or if he should just head back to his car now that his work here was done.

But just then Foley stepped up beside him, and Dash realized he hadn’t been as alone as he’d thought. To his surprise, Foley reached up and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a friendly squeeze.

“Man, I don’t know what we would have done without you,” Foley admitted. “You really saved Phantom’s butt there.”

Unused to all of these positive comments from the people he used to torment, Dash could only duck his head, feeling shy. “I mean, it wasn’t a big deal,” he grumbled. “I promised I’d help out if Phantom ever needed me.”

“Yeah, well. He really needed you today.”

“I’m just glad Manson called me.”

“Phantom told her to,” Foley said. “He seemed pretty confident you’d come, and sure enough, he was right. He…it’s weird, but I feel like he kind of trusts you, now.”

“Yeah?” Dash asked, perking up a little bit.

“Yeah. I think you’ve more than proved that you’re our go-to guy when Phantom gets hurt.” Foley gave him a sly smile, and then held out his hand.

Dash looked down at it, and then back up at Foley. When Foley didn’t drop his hand or let his expression shift, Dash slowly reached out and grasped Foley’s hand in his own, giving it a little shake up and down like they were sealing a deal.

“Welcome to Team Phantom,” Foley told him.

Dash couldn’t help the little thrill of excitement that shot through him at those words.

Chapter Text

Dash had thought Foley was mostly kidding about being a part of Team Phantom now, but it turned out he was serious. He knew perfectly well that he wasn’t being totally included in whatever secret that Manson and Foley shared with Phantom, but suddenly he found himself getting a lot more involved whenever they ran off to deal with ghost attacks.

One week they had called him because they needed Dash to drive some weird Fenton invention out to the old pet food factory on the edge of town. He’d gotten sucked into helping trap a weird blobby ghost that kept shape-shifting into various animals. Another time he got dragged along after Mason to help stop that genie ghost from taking over the town when Phantom got tricked into wishing he was some sort of blob ghost. That one had actually been pretty scary at first — when Manson sent him out to be a decoy while she and Foley worked to trap the genie ghost — but then Manson tricked the genie ghost into granting Dash’s wishes instead and that was pretty cool. Most of the wishes hadn’t stuck once the genie was gone, but he did manage to get a brand new letterman out of it.

And then there were the medic calls.

While Dash was now more involved with the ghost hunting side of things compared to before, the real job he’d taken on as a member of Team Phantom was their medic. Manson and Foley had clearly picked up a few things over the years, but they were also clearly self-taught, and most of their techniques for dealing with injuries were awful.

“What the — stop! Dude, stop, what are you doing?” Dash snapped at Foley, staring at the mess of bandages he was wrapping around Manson’s arm in disbelief. They were sitting on the bleachers out by the football field. It was early in the morning, over an hour before school started, and they’d just finished dealing with a swarm of soccer ghosts that had tried to destroy the field for whatever reason. Now they were resting, taking the time to patch up the various scrapes and bruises the humans had managed to collect while Phantom hovered in the air over them, keeping an eye on them with a thoughtful expression.

Foley looked up in surprise, one hand full of gauze wrap, the other with some tape. “What?”

“Dude, have you ever even taken a first aid course?”

Foley and Manson shared a look, before turning back to Dash. “Uh. No?”

Well that explained a lot. Rolling his eyes, Dash grabbed a fresh roll of bandages and a new gauze pad. “Move over,” he grunted, shoving his way into Foley’s spot so he could reach Manson’s arm better. As he started to gently care for her wound, he began narrating his actions.

“First, you gotta make sure the wound is clean,” he instructed, lifting Manson’s arm higher so that he could inspect the wound for any dirt or debris. Satisfied to find it looking clean, he quickly rinsed it with a cleansing wipe just to be sure, and then pulled out the fresh gauze pad. “You don’t put the gauze wrap directly on the wound, the pad goes on top and then the gauze holds it in place, see?”

Within seconds he had Manson’s arm wrapped properly, the bandages lying flat and even along the length so that nothing was sticking out to get caught on anything. He sat back and gave the bandages a smug nod of approval, before looking back over his shoulder at Foley. “There. Easy, right?”

“Wow, Dash, you’re…actually really good at this,” Manson said, looking down at her arm in quiet amazement. But then she frowned, and glanced back up at Dash. “Is this seriously something that you guys have to do to play football?”

Dash gave her a strange look. “What, bandage people?”

“No, take first aid.”

Caught off guard a bit by her question, Dash couldn’t help but flush a little bit. “N-no, not…not really. I just…looked into it a bit when I thought I might be helping Phantom out sometimes, that’s all. Took a class, checked out a few books. Nothing big.”

Her gaze was appraising as she stared at him. “Nothing big, huh?”

Dash could feel his blush growing, not liking how knowing her expression looked. Clearing his throat, he quickly turned his back on her, facing Foley instead. “Alright, now that Manson’s taken care of, let’s look at that ankle, Foley.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Foley protested weakly, shrinking back a bit. “Just a little stiff.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Dash told him gruffly, twirling his finger to indicate that Foley should turn around.

“Just let Doctor Dash take a look at you, Tucker,” Phantom chuckled from his spot floating overhead.

“Don't think you're getting out of this, too, mister!” Dash shouted up at him, shooting the ghost a glare. “I saw you take that hit to the chest!”

Phantom’s chuckles died in his throat as he squawked in indignation. “What? I’m fine!”

“As I said, I’ll be the judge of that,” Dash repeated, his attention mostly on Foley’s foot now. He grabbed Foley’s leg gently by the calf, lifting it up so that Foley’s leg was resting across his lap, and then he began poking it and prodding it with soft touches, making sure that there wasn’t any sign of a break or serious sprain.

“Does this hurt?” he asked as he put gentle pressure on Foley’s ankle.

“Not really.”

“This?”

“No.”

“This?”

“Ah! Shit — yeah, yeah, that hurts!”

Dash carefully dropped Foley’s leg back down to the bleachers with a sigh. “Looks like a mild sprain. Ice pack and a wrap should manage it. I’ve got a wrap here, but I’m out of instant ice packs, you’ll have to grab one from the nurse’s office.”

“Damnit,” Foley sighed, his head dropping back. “This’ll be fun to try to explain to my parents.”

“Blame ghosts,” Phantom cut in. “That’s what I — I hear Danny always does. It’s not even a lie, technically!”

Dash squinted up at Phantom, noting the heavy stuttering. He’d had a feeling that the hit Phantom had taken earlier had messed the ghost up more than he was letting on, and now Dash was sure of it.

“Alright, buster. Your turn for a check up,” Dash ordered.

Phantom jerked back mid-air. “No, no, no, I told you, I’m fine.”

“And I told you, I’ll be the judge of that. Get down here.”

“Seriously, my core heals me, and —”

“Just let me at least make sure —”

“— don’t even have organs like a human —”

“—no harm in just checking —”

“—waste of supplies, really, and —”

“—would you please just —”

“Boys!” Manson’s voice rang out shrilly, cutting through their argument short. Dash’s jaw snapped shut as he jerked his head around to look at her with wide eyes. To his surprise, she only gave him a cursory glare, before turning the full force of it on Phantom. Hiding slightly behind her shoulder, Foley glanced between them with a nervous expression on his face, unwilling to intervene.

“Look, Phantom,” she said calmly. “Why don’t you just let Dash check you over, make sure there’s nothing seriously wrong, okay? If you’re right and your core is handling it fine on its own, then that’s great, but there’s no harm in letting Dash at least check, is there?”

Phantom squirmed for a second, clearly trying and failing to think of a counter argument. “Ngghnnnno. No, I guess there isn’t.”

“Wonderful. Then get your spectral butt down here so Dash can give you the all clear.” She jerked her thumb towards Foley. “And while you’re doing that, Tucker and I will start heading over to the school to get the ice pack. It’ll take him longer to walk anyways, so we might as well start now and Dash can catch up after.”

Phantom grumbled something under his breath, but he did as she asked, drifting down to land on the bench next to Dash. He crossed his arms and glared down at the ground mulishly.

“Thanks, Manson,” Dash said, giving her a nod of gratitude.

She nodded back, reaching over to help Foley to his feet and slinging one of his arms over her shoulder. “Come on, Tucker, this is going to take a while.”

“Do you need any help getting down the stairs?” Dash asked, keeping a close eye on them as the pair stumbled their way off of the bleacher bench.

“No, we’ve got it.”

Manson did seem to know what she was doing, at least. Between her confidence and the fact that Foley’s sprain was pretty mild, they handled the walk down to the bottom of the bleachers without any issue, their shoes soon scuffing across the football field’s grass. Still, Dash watched them until he was sure they were going to be alright, and then finally shifted sideways so that he could face Phantom fully. “Alright, Phantom, let’s assess the damage. Turn and face me?”

Phantom’s grumpy expression didn’t change as he also turned to face Dash, the two of them sitting astride the bleacher bench now. Dash tried not to let the ghost’s attitude intimidate him as he did a quick visual inspection. Nothing looked immediately off, but Dash knew that some of the most serious injuries were often hidden beneath the surface.

“Any pain anywhere?” Dash asked, eyeing Phantom’s chest in particular. One of the soccer ghosts had landed a kick there that had knocked Phantom flying, and Dash figured that on a human, a blow like that would have at least cracked some ribs.

“Nothing,” Phantom insisted sharply, refusing to meet Dash’s eyes.

A burst of annoyance flashed through Dash, and he grit his teeth against the urge to demand that Phantom answer him truthfully. “Fine then. We’ll have to do a full head-to-toe assessment, just to make sure.”

A head-to-toe was probably overkill, given he’d only seen Phantom take the one big hit, but if Phantom was going to be a stubborn ass about this, Dash wouldn’t go easy on him. The announcement also seemed to grab Phantom’s attention, because the ghost actually looked over at Dash with a wary expression.

“A head-to-toe assessment?” Phantom echoed. “What’s that?”

“A pat down,” Dash explained, already shifting closer to Phantom so that he was within arms reach. “Starting from your head and working my way down.”

Phantom immediately blanched. “Uh, th-that’s not necessary —”

“You won’t tell me where the pain is, so I say it is,” Dash insisted, reaching for Phantom’s face with determination. Phantom tried to pull away, but Dash caught his face between his palms and held Phantom in place.

Seeing how tense Phantom had become, however, Dash let some of his annoyance fizzle out, his grip shifting so that he was more cradling Phantom’s head than grasping it. His hands curved under Phantom’s jaw, his thumbs absentmindedly brushing against Phantom’s temples as his eyes went soft. “I’ll be quick and gentle, okay? I promise.”

Phantom stared at him, his eyes wide and unblinking. He hadn’t lost an inch of tension that had frozen him in place the moment Dash had gotten his hands on him, but Dash thought he could detect the tiniest hint of green dusting Phantom’s cheeks now. Before Dash knew what he was doing, his thumbs moved from Phantom’s temples to his cheekbones, brushing over the faint green flush, a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth.

Cute, he thought to himself.

Thankfully he was distracted from saying something incriminating when Phantom shuddered slightly, before the ghost’s eyes slipped closed with a wince. “F-fine, just…get it over with,” Phantom said, sounding almost pained.

“Of course,” Dash agreed. “Just tell me if anything I’m doing hurts, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Dash started with the top of Phantom’s head, just as he’d implied he would. He remembered, all those nights ago when he’d encountered Phantom on the school roof, that he’d wanted to touch the ghost’s hair just to see what it would feel like, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited to get the opportunity. His hands sank into Phantom’s hair, his fingers sliding between the tresses as he gently ran his hands over the top and the back of Phantom’s skull, searching for any bumps or cuts.

He absently noted that Phantom’s hair mostly felt like regular, human hair, but there was a silky, weightless quality to it that made it obvious that Phantom wasn’t quite human. It felt so nice to touch, though, that Dash had to force himself to move on to the next step, his fingers leaving Phantom’s scalp only reluctantly.

His touch drifted down to Phantom’s neck next, cupping under his jaw and running his hands along Phantom’s throat. He felt Phantom swallow reflexively as Dash stroked down to his shoulders, and it made Dash pause for a moment.

“Any pain?” he prompted, watching Phantom’s expression closely.

“No,” Phantom breathed. His lips were pressed tightly together, his eyes still closed, almost as if he was in pain, but his voice was calm and Dash could detect no hint of a lie in his words. He decided to continue his inspection.

The shoulders were next, Dash giving them a firm squeeze as he worked his way across them. He’d seen what it looked like when Phantom had a dislocated shoulder, so he’d already eliminated that possibility from his mental list of potential problems, but that didn’t rule out some sort of strain or sprain like Foley’d had. But his prodding didn’t elicit any responses, so Dash moved on.

His hands slid down Phantom’s arms, first down one side, then the other. He took the time to check each of Phantom’s fingers, cradling Phantom’s palm in his hands as he wiggled each digit. He knew from personal experience how easy it was to fuck up your hands by throwing a punch wrong, and while Phantom probably knew what he was doing in the fighting department by this point, that didn’t mean Dash should get sloppy with his check-ups. Thankfully neither of Phantom’s hands seemed to be injured, based on Dash’s inspection.

Still holding one of Phantom’s hands loosely in his own, Dash looked up at him again, studying his face. “Any pain now?”

“No,” Phantom replied again. His expression was closed off, almost serene, but Dash could still detect a hint of tension in his brow. Was it from pain that he was masking, though? Or from something else?

Unable to read Phantom’s mind to divine the answer, Dash decided the best option was to keep going. “Alright, I’m going to check your torso now. Hope you’re not ticklish.”

Phantom’s eyes briefly fluttered open at the warning, but they closed again just as quickly, as if Phantom was doing his best to block out what was happening. It left a sour taste in the back of Dash’s throat — was his touch really that repulsive? — but he forced himself to ignore the feeling of rejection, and got back to work. Besides, this was the important step. He needed to pay attention here.

His touch was much more tentative as he reached out to press his hands to Phantom’s chest. The ghost momentarily twitched as Dash’s hands splayed across his collarbones before he went unnaturally still. It took Dash a moment to place exactly why it felt so off for Phantom to look so immobile, but then it hit him. Of course. Phantom was a ghost, he didn’t breathe. Still, Dash couldn’t help but feel a hint of unease as he ran his hands down Phantom’s front, from the base of his throat all the way down to his waist. He’d always known that Phantom was dead, but this was the first time he’d really been faced with the reality.

But then, just as Dash’s hands started to curve around Phantom’s sides, the ghost suddenly jumped, and Dash immediately froze.

“Did I hurt you?” he demanded.

“N-no.”

“Phantom!” Dash snapped, feeling concerned. “You just flinched, though!”

Phantom squinted one eye open to shoot him a glare, the green flush on his face growing darker. “I'm fine!”

“Then why did you flinch?”

“I'm just —!” The ghost grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I'm just…” Once again, Phantom trailed off, his voice going too soft for Dash to make out the words.

“What?” Dash let out an irritated huff, his hands unconsciously tightening on Phantom's sides. “What are you —”

He was cut off when Phantom let out a little yelp and jerked backwards out of Dash's hold.

“I'm ticklish!” He snapped, curling backward and shooting Dash a glare. “Okay?!”

“Ticklish?” Dash echoed in disbelief. Wow, he hadn’t seen that one coming. Ghosts could be ticklish?

Phantom’s face was literally glowing with the force of his blush. He huffed and crossed his arms again. “Just…can we skip that part? I promise, my ribs feel fine.”

Dash’s lips thinned, but then he sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll move on. But if your ribs are busted, don’t come crying to me!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Phantom agreed with a roll of his eyes.

Grumbling under his breath about stubborn specters, Dash leaned forward to continue his assessment. But as his arms reached out, Phantom suddenly twitched backwards again.

Dash’s arms dropped with a frustrated growl. “What now?!”

“I’m fine about the tickling thing, you don’t need to…to hug me.” Phantom turned his head away, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Dash spluttered, his own blush flaring to life. “What? No! Dude, I’m just checking your back next!”

“...oh.”

Groaning, Dash reached out once more and started patting Phantom’s back down as quickly as he could. He was really starting to regret insisting on doing a full head-to-toe assessment; he hadn’t expected Phantom to be such a stubborn pain in the ass about it!

Still, Phantom mentioning hugs lingered in the back of Dash’s mind as he stroked his hands down Phantom’s spine, applying light pressure as he went. He was trying to keep things as clinical and professional as he could, but he couldn’t help but pay attention to the way Phantom’s body felt in his arms, the way their chests brushed against each other as Dash leaned in close to reach around him. Phantom was stiff as a mannequin in Dash’s hold, cold as a block of ice, and it should have been incredibly off-putting, like touching a corpse. But Phantom still twitched whenever Dash’s arms accidentally brushed too close to his sides, his body still had a softness to it that let Dash banish the ideas of rigor mortis. Phantom was dead, but if Dash closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that he was still alive.

Realizing that his thoughts were turning to dangerous territory, Dash quickly finished up with Phantom’s spinal area and then shifted backwards on the bench a bit to give the ghost some more space. Feeling a bit warm, despite sitting so close to Phantom’s icy chill, Dash cleared his throat a little bit.

“Any pain?” he asked again, his gaze focused on a spot somewhere far in the distance over Phantom’s shoulder. He hoped his voice didn’t sound as hoarse to Phantom as it did to himself.

“No,” Phantom said quietly, his voice sounding a little strained as well. Damn, he must have been more ticklish than Dash had realized if he was still feeling bothered.

Sighing, Dash’s shoulders hunched. “Alright, just the legs now, and then we’re all done.”

“Seriously? We’re still going?”

“Head-to-toe, remember?” Dash pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

“Ugh. Fine.”

Dash couldn’t blame him. He was also kind of looking forward to finishing this up. At least once he was done, Phantom would finally be able to leave, and Dash would have a chance to cool down a bit. His crush on Phantom might have dimmed a little in the face of his growing attraction to Fenton, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still think that Phantom was gorgeous. If someone had told him six months ago that one day he’d get the chance to feel up his hero, younger him would have lost his shit. Sure, the reality of the situation might have been a whole lot less sexy than he might have imagined, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the opportunity that had presented itself.

But then, only a few seconds after Dash had started running his hands over Phantom’s left thigh, the ghost suddenly let out a sharp hiss, his body jolting.

“Ow!”

“Shit, are you okay?” Dash asked, yanking his hands back like he’d been burned.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” Phantom reassured him shakily, his eyes fixed on his thigh. “That just…hurt a bit.”

Dash quickly glanced down at his palms, checking for the shimmer of ectoplasm, but they seemed to be clean. He tentatively laid them back down on Phantom’s thigh where they’d been before, watching Phantom’s expression carefully. When the gentle touch triggered no response, Dash put on a bit of pressure.

Sure enough, Phantom winced.

“I didn’t even realize I’d been hit there,” Phantom said in disbelief.

“Told you,” Dash said smugly. “There’s a reason they teach us to do these things in first aid training.”

“Huh.”

Dash let his hands drop away from the wound on Phantom’s thigh, finishing up his inspection of the rest of his left leg, and then the right. Nothing else seemed to be hurting, thankfully. Dash sat back with a tired groan as soon as he was done.

“Looks like it might be just a bruise, or whatever the ghost equivalent is,” Dash reported, gesturing towards Phantom’s injury. “Take it easy, ice it, and try not to put too much pressure on it for the next few days and you’ll be fine.”

Phantom let out a huff of amusement. “Ice it, huh? That shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Oh, and hey, maybe next time?” Dash shot Phantom a self-satisfied smirk. “You just let me actually check you out, okay? Instead of playing hard to get or whatever?”

“C-check me out?!” Phantom spluttered, his green flush returning with force.

Ugh, why was Phantom being so stubborn about this?! Manson and Foley never gave him this much of a hard time! It was almost as bad as dealing with Fenton!

“Yeah, you should let me check you out for injuries!” Dash cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “You didn’t even realize you’d taken a hit to your leg! What happens if you get hurt, don’t take care of yourself properly, and then end up in another fight at less than tip top shape? If Coach saw me try to hide an injury to keep playing, he’d hand my ass to me, game or no game! Trying to play the tough guy isn’t brave, it’s stupid. Little injuries now can become big problems down the line. You need to think of the future instead of just the present and make sure you take care of yourself!”

As he spoke, Phantom’s eyes went wide. “O-oh. I…guess I never thought about it that way.”

Dash sniffed and hunched in on himself a little. “Yeah, well. Coach says that to us all the time, and he knows his shit. Pretty sure this kind of thing applies to ghost fighting too.”

“You’re…probably right...”

They fell into an awkward silence for a moment, neither sure what to say next. A slight breeze kicked up, and Dash’s gaze drifted out across the field and towards the school. If he squinted, he could just make out the sight of Foley and Manson still picking their way across the school yard towards the building.

“I should probably get going,” Phantom murmured quietly, breaking the weird hush that had fallen over them. “I…you’ve got school soon, and I apparently need to rest.”

“You gonna be okay?” Dash asked, turning back to look at Phantom.

The ghost gave him a tight smile, but there was a warmth to it as well that caught Dash off guard. “Don’t worry about me, Dash. I’ll be fine.”

For a moment, Dash was left breathless. Phantom was haloed in the golden light of the sunrise, his eyes glowing and his white hair fluttering in the breeze, flashing like quicksilver when the light hit it. Something about the way Phantom looked struck Dash as painfully familiar, but he just couldn’t place what it reminded him of, only that it left a strange twisting feeling in his gut.

Belatedly, he stuttered out, “Someone has to worry about you. Isn’t that why you guys invited me to join your team?”

Phantom’s expression turned thoughtful. “That might have been why we initially roped you in,” he admitted slowly. “But honestly, getting the chance to spend time with you? I’m actually really glad that we did. You’re…not what I expected.”

“Oh?” Dash fought the urge to squirm under Phantom’s searching look. Did he mean that in a good way or a bad way?

Thankfully Phantom seemed to pick up on Dash’s discomfort, because his gaze softened. “You’re smarter, and more resourceful, and more caring than I gave you credit for. I really misjudged you, and I’m sorry for that.”

“N-no no,” Dash hastily denied, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “You really didn’t. I’m definitely not that smart, or, uh, the other stuff you said. I’m just…just a jock, really.”

“You’re way more than that,” Phantom insisted. To Dash’s shock, Phantom reached out and took one of Dash’s hands between his own. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…thank you. For taking care of me and Sam and Tucker.”

Dash let out a few strangled noises before he managed to figure out how English worked again. “A-any time!” he squeaked.

Phantom looked like he wanted to say something else, but just then a loud rumble tore through the quiet morning air. Dash and Phantom both turned to see one of the school’s math teachers roll up in his old jeep, the engine coughing and spluttering as the vehicle rolled into the parking spot.

“Ah, crap, I really gotta get going,” Phantom groaned, his hands slipping away from Dash’s. He stood up stiffly from the bleacher bench, and with a small hop he was floating in the air. He looked down at Dash with a crooked smile. “See you later?”

“Y-yeah,” Dash said haltingly. “Yeah, I should probably go too. I gotta catch up to the others. B-but make sure you’re going straight back to your lair to rest, okay!”

“I promise I’ll take it easy today, Dash,” Phantom laughed, holding up two fingers in a familiar salute. “Scout’s honour.”

Dash snorted. “I seriously doubt you were ever a scout.”

Phantom stuck his tongue out at him. “You can’t prove anything!” he cackled, before shooting off into the sky, the sound of his laughter following in his wake. Dash watched him go with a small smile of his own.

Once Phantom was out of sight, however, the smile dropped from Dash’s face and he slumped with a sigh. He brought his hands up to scrub at his face in frustration.

“What the fuck am I doing?” he muttered quietly to himself.

Then, with another tired sigh and a shake of his head, Dash quickly gathered up his stuff and started making his way down the bleacher steps. School would be starting soon, and there was no way in hell he was going to show up late when he’d technically been here since before sunrise.

Dash had a few more misadventures with Team Phantom after that, nothing too crazy, but enough that he started to feel like maybe he was getting the hang of this whole secretly-fighting-ghosts-alongside-another-ghost thing. It was kind of hard hiding it from his friends sometimes, and it was definitely starting to eat into his sleep and study time, but so far he felt like he was keeping his head above water. He might even get used to the late nights and early mornings patching up Manson and Foley while Phantom floated overhead cracking jokes.

But then one night the whole routine went out the window.

Dash had been asleep in bed, completely dead to the world. All of the sudden he was jerked to wakefulness by the sensation of something ice cold pressing against his cheek. He shot up in bed with a startled gasp, his sleep-clouded eyes blinking rapidly to clear his vision so he could see what had woken him.

“Pookie?” he grunted, his sleep-addled mind assuming his dog had decided to wake him up with a chilly puppy nose pressed to his face.

“No, it’s me,” a hushed voice responded.

That woke Dash up. He screamed and scrambled back in bed, tugging his blankets up over his chest as protection.

“Dash! Dash! Calm down!” the voice hissed urgently. “It’s just me!”

“Who — Phantom?!” Dash gawked down at the figure lurking at the foot of his bed. It took his mind a second to catch up, but once it did he realized that yes, that was Phantom standing there in the middle of his room, not some sort of crazy axe murderer. “Dude, what the hell are you doing here? What time is it?”

“After three I think?” Phantom offered. “I don’t really know.”

As Dash continued to shake off his sleep, he started to catch on that something was seriously wrong here, and not just the fact that Amity Park’s resident ghost hero had decided to drop in on Dash unannounced in the middle of the night. He sat up more fully in bed, feeling well and truly awake now. “What’s wrong?”

Phantom hesitated, which was really all the answer Dash needed to know that it was bad. He hastily reached out and flicked on his lamp, bathing his bedroom in its dim yellow glow. The sudden bright light left him wincing a little, but he shook the pain off quickly, tossing his covers aside and hopping out of bed to rush over to Phantom’s side.

As soon as he caught sight of the ghost, he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Phantom said weakly, his expression pained. “That pretty much sums it up.”

Bad didn’t really cover it. There was a deep gash in Phantom’s side, right below his ribcage, that was visibly dripping ectoplasm despite Phantom’s arm pressed tightly against the wound. His one eye was swollen shut, another cut across his forehead just above it leaking even more ectoplasm. And his one shoulder looked like it had been dislocated again, though compared to the rest of his injuries, Dash had already dismissed it as the lowest priority. In short, Phantom was a mess.

“What the hell happened?” Dash asked, already digging his first aid kit out from underneath his bed. Since joining Team Phantom as their medic, he’d done away with the small bag of basic supplies that he’d started out with; by now he’d invested in a full tackle box, with enough bandages, gauze pads, splints and braces to make an EMT drool. He dropped it heavily on his bed, clicking open the latches and opening it up to start grabbing the things he’d need.

“Ran into the Fentons,” Phantom explained. He sat down on Dash’s bed when directed, wincing as the movement put more strain on his wounds. A bit of ectoplasm dripped down onto Dash’s bedsheets, and Dash made a mental note that he’d have to deal with that later. “They had a new weapon they apparently made out of a weed-whacker. It packed more of a punch than I was expecting.”

“Let me look at it,” Dash told him gently as he pulled on a pair of protective gloves. Phantom immediately obeyed, to Dash’s relief, lifting his good arm out of the way so that Dash could inspect the wound. Dash’s breath hitched when he saw how bad the tear in Phantom’s skin looked, but after giving it a tentative prod with the tip of his finger, Dash was relieved to see that it wasn’t actually as bad as it had first appeared. The cut wasn’t clean by any stretch of the imagination, and it curved all the way along Phantom’s side, but it was thankfully shallow. Dash could already see the flow of ectoplasm was turning sluggish as the ghost’s healing powers kicked in.

“Well?” Phantom asked him, watching Dash work with a slight furrow to his brow. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes drooped a little, showing how exhausted he must be.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Dash reported, turning away from Phantom’s side to start digging out some gauze pads from his kit. “It’s already starting to heal; knowing how fast your body repairs itself you’ll be fine by the morning.”

To his surprise, Phantom let out a low curse. Dash glanced up to see that Phantom looked almost nervous, chewing on his bottom lip.

“What’s wrong?” Dash asked, sensing that something else was up.

“I don’t have until morning,” Phantom groaned, his head dropping low between his shoulders. “Fuck, I don’t even think I’ve got five minutes left in me.”

“What? What do you mean?” Dash demanded with growing alarm. “What’s happening in five minutes?”

Phantom looked up at Dash with a pained expression, which slowly shifted to realization, and then what seemed to be resignation. Dash felt his unease grow and grow the longer Phantom went without answering.

Finally, Phantom let out a short, humorless laugh and shook his head. “I mean, I never thought I’d say this, but…I really do trust you, I guess.”

“Phantom?” Dash said slowly, completely lost.

He started to ask something else, but at that moment, there was a bright flash that cut Dash off. Dash’s jaw dropped open in surprise as what appeared to be a ring of light suddenly materialized around Phantom’s waist. The ring separated into two, and then the pair of rings swept over Phantom’s body, one straight down to his toes, the other up over his head, before disappearing with another flash. It all happened in seconds, faster than Dash could even register. Then the light faded, leaving Dash’s room bathed in the glow of his bedside lamp once more.

And sitting on his bed, in the exact position Phantom had just been, was Danny Fenton.

“W-what the…what the fuck?” Dash breathed, staring at Fenton in disbelief.

“Like I said,” Fenton said with a wince, his arm coming up to clutch at his side. The white t-shirt he’d been wearing bloomed with little red spots as it pressed against his skin. “I trust you. Enough to finally tell you the truth, at least.”

“Y-you’re…you’re…”

“I’m Phantom, yes.”

“You…this whole time?”

“Yeah,” Fenton admitted, his eyes dropping down to Dash’s bedroom carpet. “It’s…a long story, but…you deserve to know I guess. It happened back at the beginning of freshman year. My parents created this invention called the Ghost Portal that was supposed to let them travel to the Ghost Zone, where ghosts come from, only it didn’t work. I managed to fix the problem and turn the portal on, only…I was still inside it when it activated. The portal between the living world and the Ghost Zone opened pretty much on top of me and…well, it sort of killed me. But also it didn’t. So now I’m…this. A Halfa. Alive and dead. Half ghost, half human. Just trying my best to protect my home while also avoiding getting ripped apart by my ghost-hunter parents.”

He shrugged, and then immediately winced as it strained his dislocated shoulder. “So, uh. Now you know, I guess. The basics at least.”

The room went quiet as Fenton finished his explanation. He peeked up from behind his bangs, but Dash could only sit there in stunned silence as he struggled to understand everything that had just been thrown at him. Fenton was Phantom. Fenton was Phantom.

Bile started crawling up the back of his throat.

“You’ve…you’ve been Phantom. This whole time,” Dash repeated.

“Yes. It’s…always been me,” Fenton confirmed.

“Even…even that night on the roof?”

“The roof?” Fenton echoed, his brow furrowing in confusion. But then the memory seemed to come back to him, because his eyes widened with realization. “Oh! Oh, that — ! Shit. Yes. That night.”

“You…it was you. I was talking to you.” The packages of gauze in Dash’s hands crumpled under his tightening grip. “I…I told you about my…fuck, I told you that I like you! I told you that I’m — shit!”

“Dash.” Fenton was watching him warily now, curling in on himself a little bit. “I swear, I didn’t mean —”

Outraged now, Dash jumped to his feet. “You’ve known this whole fucking time that I had a crush on you! And — and you never said a goddamned thing! You never told me anything! I’ve been patching you up and helping you fight ghosts for months and you’ve never fucking said anything!”

“My own parents have been trying to turn me into their own personal dissection project since I was fourteen, okay?!” Fenton snapped, getting just as worked up as Dash. “I’ve had that hanging over my head for years, so forgive me if I have trouble telling people about my secret when it could literally kill me!”

“You think my parents are going to be any happier if they find out the truth about me?!”

“I'm not going to go running to them to tell them anything!” Fenton protested.

“And I'm supposed to just believe that?! You've been lying to me this whole fucking time!”

“It took me some time to trust you, but at least I’m being honest with you now!” Fenton snarled. “You know my secret now too, we’re even!”

“You told me your secret on purpose!” Dash retorted angrily. “You chose to tell me! If I had known who you were, I’d — fuck! Fuck!”

Dash whirled away to slam his hands down heavily on his desk, hunching over and breathing heavily. He was so angry he wanted to break something.

Behind him, he heard Fenton shifting on his bed, followed by a small pained sound. Abruptly Dash remembered that Phantom — no, Fenton had been injured, and that the wound was likely still oozing. Only now it would apparently be leaking blood instead of ectoplasm.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, Dash spun back around and gathered up his crumpled gauze pads. He started violently ripping the packages open until he had enough to cover the entire length of the cut.

“Lift up your shirt,” Dash ordered gruffly.

Fenton took a second to listen, but then he reluctantly grabbed the hem of his shirt with his good hand and raised it up towards his chest. As soon as the fabric was out of his way, Dash started pressing gauze pads against the wound, absently noting that it seemed to have healed significantly compared to what Dash had seen before. He wasn’t sure if that was due to Fenton changing back to human, or if it was a factor of time, but he wasn’t going to complain at having less of a mess to clean up.

Once the gauze was in place and secured with both tape and a roll of bandages, Dash turned his attention to Fenton’s forehead next. He had that patched up even faster than the injury in Fenton’s side, leaving the dislocated shoulder the last thing to deal with.

But when Dash reached out to start to pop Fenton’s shoulder back into place, Fenton suddenly started to talk again.

“What did you expect me to do, Dash?” Fenton asked him quietly, sounding so tired and worn down. “You were the one that just started blurting all that stuff out on the roof. I didn’t exactly ask.”

Dash had been just barely managing to reign his temper in, but the second Fenton spoke, he felt all of his careful control finally snap. Instead of grabbing Fenton’s shoulder like he planned, he suddenly found himself with his fist around Fenton’s collar, dragging him up to his feet. Fenton let out a startled cry, but Dash just gave him a harsh shake, hard enough that he could hear Fenton’s teeth clicking shut, and got right up into his face.

“Listen you little shit, you lied to me this whole fucking time!” he growled, uncaring of the spittle flying out of his mouth to splash on Fenton’s cheeks. “You coulda interrupted me, or stopped me, or done anything but stand there and just…let me fucking, blurt out every fucking secret I’ve ever had! So hey, how about I show you how it works. It goes like this; shut the fuck up, or I’m going to make what your folks did to you look like a walk in the fucking park.”

For a second, Fenton just stared up at him, eyes wide, his body stiff and unmoving, and Dash had a momentary flashback to that day in the locker room that had started this whole mess. But then Fenton’s expression abruptly twisted into something ugly.

One second Dash had been standing over Fenton with his shirt in his fist, ready to deck Fenton across the face, the next he found himself pinned against his bedroom wall, his feet a full two inches off of the ground, Fenton’s good hand fisted in his shirt.

“Fuck. You.” Fenton hissed, his normally blue eyes burning bright green, the teeth in his mouth abnormally sharp. “You think you still get to push me around like old times, Dash? You think you get to shove me around and act like I should be whimpering at your feet? Newsflash, asshole, the only reason you ever got to shove me around was because I let you. I could break you like a twig if I wanted to. It would be easy.”

Dash’s mouth opened and closed like a beached fish, his eyes wide with terror. He flinched back as Fenton turned the tables and got up in his face, those sharp teeth flashing in the light. “I’m not putting up with your bullshit anymore, Dash. So don’t even think of trying that shit again. Got it?”

Dash swallowed thickly, nodding his head. “Y-yeah. I got it.”

“Good,” Fenton growled, finally lowering his arm so that Dash’s feet could touch back down on the ground. Once Dash was standing on his own again, Fenton jerked away, his nails ripping holes in Dash’s shirt as he let go. Fenton spun, his body shaking with barely suppressed fury as he stalked across to the far side of Dash’s room.

Dash watched him with trepidation, waiting for Fenton to turn around and attack him again. His heart was pounding in his chest at a hundred miles an hour, and he could feel how flushed his face must have been. He couldn’t help but stare at Fenton’s back appraisingly, completely baffled that such a skinny little body could be strong enough to hold Dash up against the wall like that so effortlessly. The experience had been absolutely terrifying, of course, but damn if a small part of him hadn’t also found it kind of intriguing as well.

That small part was quickly quashed, however, when Fenton turned back to glare at him again.

“Tell anyone my secret, and I’ll start singing yours from the rooftops, understand?” Fenton demanded.

Dash gave him a dirty look of his own. “Right back at you,” he said with a sneer.

“Awesome,” Fenton bit out. “Great. Glad we’re on the same page. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

There was a flash of light, the rings reappearing and sweeping over Fenton’s body, and then suddenly he was Phantom again. He looked strained, his natural glow much dimmer than usual, but from his furious expression, it looked like he didn’t care.

Caught off guard by Fenton’s change, Dash blinked at him in surprise. “Wait, what about your shoulder?”

“As I told you before, I know how to deal with this myself,” Phantom growled. “Thanks for patching me up, Dash, but I’ll take it from here.”

“W-wait! You shouldn’t — !” Dash tried to call after him, but before he could even take two steps towards Phantom, the ghost suddenly jumped up into the air, his legs fusing together. With a flick of his spectral tail, Phantom shot off straight through Dash’s bedroom wall and disappeared.

Dash stumbled to a stop in the middle of the room, and then threw his head back in frustration. “Fuck!”

Then he turned and spotted his blood and ectoplasm-stained bedsheets and let out an even more exhausted, “Fuuuck.”

He gave himself one minute to just stand there feeling sorry for himself. Then, sighing, he straightened up his spine, rolled his neck to work out the kinks, and then started towards the messed up bed.

He had laundry to do.

Chapter Text

Dash had already been in a bad mood the next day at school thanks to his rough night, and it only got worse when the ghost attack happened.

He’d been in chem when the screaming started, and instinctively he’d rushed to the door to see what was going on, the teacher only a second behind. A quick glance down the hall showed a stampede of students heading their way, eyes wide with fear.

“Ghost dragon!” one of them screamed. “Run for your lives!”

Ghost dragon. Well that was new.

Sighing, the teacher turned back to the class. “Alright, folks, you know the drill. Head to the evacuation points with as little screaming and trampling as possible, please.”

No one needed any further prompting. The sound of every single desk chair being pushed back at once resounded through the room, the class swiftly joining the flood of fleeing students as they headed for the exits. Despite being the closest to the door, Dash hung back a little, making sure everyone else was through first, his eyes focused on the crashing sounds coming from down the hall. He hadn’t seen Manson or Foley yet today — or Fenton for that matter — but he had a feeling that whatever was going on, they were already deep in the thick of it.

“Mr. Baxter!” the teacher suddenly shouted, noticing that Dash was falling behind. “Hurry up!”

“Yes, teach!” Dash called back, glancing between her and the end of the hallway once more. “Uh, just a second though. I think I forgot something.”

“Mr. Baxter!” the teacher cried, but Dash wasn’t listening anymore. Instead, he took off down the hall, heading towards the crashing noises. As much as he wasn’t looking forward to even being in the same room as Fenton at the moment, he couldn’t help but be a little bit worried about him. Dash couldn’t recall anyone ever telling him about Phantom facing a dragon before, and from the crashing sounds that were literally shaking the school’s foundations, Dash suspected Fenton might be in a little over his head.

The din of battle got louder as Dash approached the school gymnasium, the sounds of ectoblasts almost drowned out by a terrifying roar that rattled the nearby windowpanes. It made Dash freeze in his tracks for a moment, his instincts telling him that something big and hungry was responsible for that noise. But then he forced himself to continue, tiptoeing up to the doors that lead into the gym and peeking through the inset window to scope out the situation.

Holy shit. There really was a ghost dragon. What the fuck.

Dash stared in open-mouthed shock at the great scaly beast that was currently snapping its razor sharp fangs at Phantom, its long, black tail thrashing in frustration as Phantom whizzed and darted through the air over its head to avoid its attacks. Dash saw the wings on the dragon’s back twitch and spasm, but further inspection showed that it had somehow gotten them tangled up in the climbing ropes that hung from the gym’s ceiling, making it impossible for the dragon to fly.

Dash just watched for a minute, mesmerized by the artful way that Phantom flew through the air to keep out of the dragon’s reach. But then Phantom’s flight path brought him a bit lower to the ground, and Dash suddenly caught sight of a pair of students that were huddled behind a set of gym mats, trapped and looking terrified out of their minds.

“Shit,” Dash muttered under his breath. Where the fuck were Manson and Foley? Fenton never went anywhere without them, so shouldn’t they have been trying to rescue the trapped students while Phantom kept the dragon busy?

A quick glance around what he could see of the gym showed that the other two members of Team Phantom were nowhere to be found. Cursing under his breath again, Dash glanced back towards the trapped students, before his eyes started tracing along the outside of the room. The gym was a mess — the dragon must have attacked when there was a class in there doing their gymnastics unit — but all of the equipment strewn around the edges of the room meant that, with a bit of caution, Dash might be able to reach the other students without being seen and help them to escape.

For a moment, he seriously wondered if he’d lost his mind. Was he really thinking of going in there and risking getting eaten by a dragon just so save a couple of kids he didn’t even know?!

But upon giving it a little bit of thought, he decided that, yeah, he really was. Even just the idea of leaving them to their fate left his stomach feeling sour, and Dash realized that after spending so much time with Team Phantom, helping them help others, he liked helping people now. It was often hard, and sometimes scary, but he couldn’t just stand by anymore and let people get hurt if he could do something about it

And as scary as the situation was, right now, Dash could do something about it. So he would.

Licking his lips, Dash nervously blew out a breath, waiting for an opening. The moment the dragon turned its back on the doorway, its large triangular head tracking Phantom’s movement, Dash slipped through the doors and immediately ducked behind a pommel horse, his heart in his throat. There he paused, tensed for the sound of the dragon’s roar and the feeling of its hot breath on his neck as it noticed the new intruder.

However, after a few seconds of waiting, nothing happened, and Dash let out a tiny relieved sigh. So far his reckless plan was working. Great. Awesome. He shifted to peek around the edge of the pommel horse, searching for the two trapped students.

Two pairs of wide, terrified eyes met his own, and he knew that the students had spotted him. He waved at them, letting him know he’d seen them as well, and then he started planning his next move to get closer. The balance beam looked close enough, though it wouldn’t provide much cover. He’d have to move again quickly to make sure he wasn’t caught…

The dragon suddenly let out an ear-piercing shriek, and Dash looked up just in time to see it open its mouth and spit out a stream of blue fire, narrowly missing Phantom. The fire attack hit the back wall of the gym instead, the team banners hanging from the walls immediately bursting into flames.

Oh shit. Okay, no more time for careful calculations, Dash needed to move if he wanted to get himself and the trapped students out of here before the dragon burned the damn building down.

He saw Phantom deliver a sharp uppercut to the dragon’s jaw, snapping its mouth shut and cutting off its fire breath, and Dash took the opportunity to bolt out of his hiding place. He charged across the gym, leaping over a discarded set of equipment like a hurdle jumper, and skidded over behind the stacked gym mats where the students were hiding.

“Hey guys, this really isn’t a great place to be right now,” Dash said a little breathlessly as he huddled down alongside them. “What do you say about getting the hell out of here?”

“Are you kidding?” the girl squeaked, glancing between Dash and the chaos of the fight happening just beyond their hiding place. “If we go out there we’re going to die!”

“Nah, I won’t let that happen,” Dash told her with much more bravado than he actually felt, trying to channel the way he’d heard Phantom speak to frightened civilians before. “Besides, we’re running out of time. If the dragon’s starting to breathe fire, this place is going to get real hot real quick. I’m not interested in sticking around for that, are you?”

“N-no,” the girl admitted reluctantly. “But…but Andrew’s got asthma, if he runs too fast he’ll have trouble breathing.”

Dash glanced over at the other student, taking in his ashen expression and laboured breathing. “You know what else causes troubled breathing? Smoke. From a fire. I think it’s worth the risk, here.”

The two students shared an uneasy look. A loud roar from the dragon, followed by a gush of fire, seemed to make their decision for them, because they both turned back to Dash with their faces pale with fear.

“O-okay. We’ll try,” the boy stuttered out.

“Good.” Dash peeked out around the gym mats, checking on the status of the fight. “Alright, when I say go, you guys run like hell for the exit, got it?”

“Got it,” they both whispered.

“Alright. Get ready.”

Dash watched Phantom’s face off against the ghost dragon like he was scoping out the offense on the opposing football team, searching for an opening. His whole body was taut with tension, poised and ready to bolt as soon as the coast was clear. He winced when he saw the dragon whip its tail through the air, smacking Phantom down to crash hard into the gym floor, but within seconds Phantom was airborne again, his teeth grit in determination.

He shot icy blue energy out of his eyes, coating the side of the dragon’s head in thick frost, and Dash finally saw their chance.

“Now!” he hissed, grabbing the boy by the arm and dragging him into motion.

The three of them ran full-tilt across the gymnasium floor, Dash dragging them around the toppled gym equipment and smashed up sections of the floor. The door was twenty feet away, then ten, then five, then one. They were going to make it, the dragon still too busy trying to shake off Phantom’s ice attack to notice the humans running by.

But just as Dash and the boy shoved through the doors and crossed the threshold, he heard a terrified shriek and a thud behind them. He whirled in alarm, quickly spotting the girl sprawled out across the ground. She had already started to scramble back up, but over Dash’s shoulder he could see that it was already too late.

The girl’s scream had alerted the dragon to her presence. Its red slitted eyes stared down at her.

“Well, perhaps this journey hasn’t been in vain after all,” the dragon purred, its head swinging down towards the girl. “A fair maiden is a fair maiden, after all.”

“Stay away from her!” Phantom cried, shooting the dragon in the back of the head with an ectoblast.

The dragon snarled and whirled with unexpected speed. Dash saw Phantom’s eyes go wide in surprise just a second before the dragon’s jaws snapped shut around him.

Dash screamed in denial. “No!”

His head whipped from side to side as he frantically tried to think of something he could do to save Phantom. They landed on a pile of various balls that must have escaped the storage room thanks to the gymnasium’s destruction, and Dash’s eyes lit up when he spotted a football. Acting quickly, he rushed towards it, even as he shouted over his shoulder to the girl, “Get the fuck out of here!”

He heard the gym door slam shut behind her a second later, but he didn’t pause to check and make sure she’d escaped. Instead, he swooped down, scooping up the football into his hand.

“Hey Godzilla!” he yelled up at the dragon. It turned to look at him, its red eyes flashing in fury.

It only took Dash a second to line up the throw, and then the football was sailing through the air like a missile. It slammed into the dragon’s eye dead center.

The dragon jerked back with a roar of pain, its mouth opening wide with its cry, and a very slobbery Phantom took the chance to escape.

“Dash?!” he shouted when he spotted who was standing down below. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Saving your ass, what does it look like?” Dash snapped, even as he grabbed another football out of the pile. “Where the hell are Manson and Foley?”

“Tucker went looking for the thermos after Maleficent here knocked it out of my hands and onto the roof, and Sam’s looking for the cavalry,” Phantom explained quickly. “You need to get out of here.”

“Trust me, I’m trying,” Dash bit out, well aware that he was not capable of fighting a dragon. But the dragon’s thrashing had started knocking down the overhead scaffolding that held up the gym’s lighting and basketball nets, and the closest door had just become blocked by falling debris.

Phantom growled low under his breath, shooting Dash a glare. “Just go — oh shit, look out!”

Dash had been distracted with figuring out a new escape plan, and he hadn’t noticed that the dragon had recovered from his attack. He tried to jump back as the dragon’s claw shot out, but he wasn’t fast enough, and he let out a terrified scream as he found himself abruptly fifteen feet in the air in the unforgiving grip of a furious ghost dragon.

“Insolent fool!” the dragon snarled. “How dare you — !”

The dragon never got a chance to finish its threat. One second Dash had been trapped within its claws, his arms pinned so tightly he couldn’t even twitch his fingers, the next he found himself tumbling through the air, the dragon’s grip falling away. Before he even had a chance to scream again, however, he was caught by a pair of strong arms, and he found himself cradled against Phantom’s chest.

He stared up at Phantom’s darkly determined expression, his heart skipping a beat behind his ribcage. Phantom was singed and scratched, his body covered in tiny scrapes that were leaking ectoplasm, but his hold on Dash was firm, and he showed no sign of fear or exhaustion. He looked every inch the hero, there to slay the dragon and save the day.

As Phantom carefully set him down on the ground near the edge of the gym, Dash could only stumble back, a blush burning high on his cheeks. The moment Dash was settled, Phantom stepped forward to stand in front of him protectively, his hands glowing with ectoenergy.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” Phantom growled, his voice deep and his body tense with barely restrained anger.

The dragon growled right back, flashing its rows of sharp teeth. “Since you’ve sabotaged my quest for a fair maiden, perhaps I’ll take him instead, and keep him as my jester. I could use the entertainment.”

“Don’t you dare,” Phantom roared, and then he launched himself into the air, tackling the dragon around the throat. It fell to the gymnasium floor with a crash that rattled the walls, its tail and legs lashing in surprise at the lightning-fast attack, but Phantom dodged away from its panicked flailing with ease.

Then, in an uncharacteristic show of ruthlessness, Phantom apparently decided that knocking the dragon down and dazing it wasn’t enough. As soon as the dragon’s body hit the ground, he surged forward with a snarl towards the dragon’s face. His fingers lengthened into claws as he struck, slashing across the dragon’s eyes. The dragon screamed in pain, its head and wings thrashing, but Phantom merely grabbed one of the dragon’s horns next, bracing his feet against the back of its head and pulling back on the horn with all of his might until it snapped clean off.

The dragon’s shriek of agony was so loud that Dash was forced to slap his hands over his ears and squeeze his eyes shut.

He ended up huddling against the wall of the gymnasium, crouched down with his arms over his head in an attempt to block out the dragon’s howling. It sounded like Phantom was torturing the damn thing, but Dash didn’t dare raise his head to look. He only stayed in his little ball and prayed that it would all be over soon.

Just when he thought that the cacophony would never end, something heavy slammed down on the ground next to Dash, making the floor shake. He fell over onto his ass with a yelp, his eyes flying open to see that the dragon had been toppled over, its head only a foot or two away. It looked like it had been put through a paper shredder, both of its eyes swollen shut and bleeding, its horns snapped off and several of its fangs broken. Its body only looked slightly better, several holes burnt through its wing membranes and its tail tied in a knot.

Phantom was standing on its back, but Dash had never seen the ghost look so…menacing. His eyes were glowing like hellfire, his jaw full of so many teeth they jutted out of his snarling mouth like bits of broken glass. His posture was hunched like a beast, his talon-like fingers hooked around one of the dragon’s back spikes tightly enough to leave gouges while his hair whipped around his head like flickering white flames.

Dash knew Phantom was a ghost, but this was the first time it had ever really hit him what exactly that meant.

Phantom started stalking along the dragon’s back, dragging his talons along the dragon’s spines as he went and leaving long scratches in his wake. When he reached the top of the dragon’s head, he leaned in close to the dragon’s ear, his lip pulling back in a low growl.

“Get out of my haunt,” Phantom hissed.

“Y-yes, sir,” the dragon whimpered.

The moment Phantom floated off of the dragon’s head, it burst into motion, using its claw to rip off the medallion that had been hanging from its neck. To Dash’s amazement, the dragon swiftly shrunk down into the form of a man, his spiked crown askew and his robes all torn and rumpled. The man shot Phantom a terrified look, and then bolted, running straight through the wall of the gymnasium and out of sight.

As soon as he was gone, Dash turned back to give Phantom a nervous glance. Phantom still looked much more terrifying than usual, but as Dash watched, the more inhuman traits seemed to be fading away. Dash slowly relaxed as Phantom gradually returned to normal — his hair settling, his teeth and talons retracting — until everything was back to what Dash was used to.

But then he went a step further. A flash of light momentarily dazzled Dash’s vision. When the spots cleared, he blinked to see Fenton standing in the middle of the gym, swaying on his feet with exhaustion. Dash stumbled forward just in time to catch Fenton before he hit the ground.

Fenton let out a low groan as Dash slowly guided him down to the floor, his eyelids fluttering.

“Fuck I’m tired,” Fenton mumbled.

“You just fought a dragon,” Dash pointed out. “Are you really that surprised?”

He helped Fenton get settled, and then dropped to a knee next to Fenton’s side, checking him over. Nothing immediately jumped out at him as being super serious, but Fenton was covered in scratches and bruises that probably could use at least a wipe down with some water. Dash glanced around the ruined gym, his eyes landing on the water fountain off in the corner.

“Wait here,” he instructed, before jumping back to his feet. He carefully picked his way through the debris that covered the gymnasium floor, making his way to the water fountain. Once he got there, he realized that he didn’t exactly have any towels on him, so with a growl he grabbed the hem of his shirt and started to pull. Of course, it didn’t rip apart like in the movies, so eventually he had to resort to using a broken piece of metal he’d found on the floor to tear off a chunk of his shirt.

Once he’d managed to soak his makeshift rag in water, he hurried back over to Fenton’s side.

“Here, man, let me take a look at you,” Dash told him, gesturing with the damp rag.

Fenton didn’t answer, but he didn’t object either when Dash began to carefully wipe down the cuts he could see marring Fenton’s arms and hands.

“Am I going to have to do a pat down again?” Dash asked mildly as he worked, “Or are you actually going to be honest about your injuries this time?”

“I’m fine, Dash,” Fenton bit out with surprising venom, his eyes trained on the ground by his feet.

Caught off guard by the vitriol in Fenton’s voice, Dash’s head whipped up to stare at him. “What the hell’s your problem? I’m just asking if you’re okay!”

“Of course I’m okay,” Fenton spat, scowling at Dash now. “I have a healing factor. I can recover from these things, no problem, unlike some dumbass who ran head first into a fight with a goddamned ghost dragon and almost got himself killed!”

“Wait, you’re mad at me?! For helping you?!” Dash demanded.

“I was doing just fine, I had it under control!”

“It ate you!”

“He was about to get a mouthful of ice spikes, before you got involved!” Fenton insisted. “What the hell were you even thinking?!

“I was thinking you were in trouble and I wanted to help!” Dash retorted, scrubbing Fenton’s wounds perhaps a bit more harshly than he should have. If Fenton was uncomfortable with how much pressure Dash was using though, he didn’t show it. “Besides, I didn’t come here looking to fight a goddamned dragon, I just saw there were some kids who got stuck and I wanted to get them out of trouble before they ended up getting squashed! I had a plan, alright?! I was just trying to help! Do you give Manson and Foley this shit every time they get involved as well?”

“I — !” Fenton started to say something, but then he cut himself off, his jaw snapping shut. He abruptly looked away from Dash, twin pink spots growing high on his cheeks. “...no.”

“If you don’t give them a hard time, then why the hell are you up my ass about it?!” Dash demanded.

“They have been doing this with me long enough to know how to defend themselves, and when to get out of the way and just let me handle it,” Fenton hissed, giving Dash a glare.

“So you can get your ass eaten by a dragon?!” Dash stared at Fenton incredulously, the rag in his hand forgotten. “Are you seriously telling me that I should have just sat back and done nothing and let the fucking dragon eat you?!”

“Better me than you! I can handle it! I heal! You don’t!”

“Just because you can handle getting hurt doesn’t mean you should!”

“Oh now you care about me getting hurt?” Fenton asked with a short, humorless huff of laughter. He shook his head, a nasty grin spreading across his face. “Funny, pretty sure you were saying the exact opposite last night.”

The second the words were out of his mouth, Fenton winced like he regretted saying it, but at that point the damage was done. Dash flinched back like Fenton had slapped him, his eyes going wide and the blood draining from his face. His body felt numb all over, pins and needles dancing across his skin as Fenton’s accusation circled around Dash’s mind, bringing up memories of the night before, as well as every other time Dash had ever hurt or bullied Fenton in the past. Dash curled in on himself, feeling sick.

The damp rag started slipping through his lax fingers, and he had to scramble to catch it before it hit the dusty floor. He stood up, jumping to his feet so fast that it made him feel dizzy, but before he’d even regained his balance he was already spinning on his heel and striding back over to the water fountain.

“Gotta go rinse the rag,” he mumbled under his breath, not caring if Fenton actually heard him or not. If Fenton replied, Dash couldn’t hear it past the ringing in his ears.

He spent longer running the strip of fabric under the sluggish flow of water than he probably needed to, soaking it long past the worst of the blood and dirt had been washed off. But it gave him time to calm down a little bit. He felt hot and cold simultaneously all over his body, and his hands were clumsy as they handled the rag between them. They may have even been shaking a little bit, it was hard to tell. The longer he waited, though, the more his body seemed to settle. He still felt numb all over, but at least he didn’t feel like he was going to puke anymore.

Well, not as much, at least.

Eventually he knew that he couldn’t stall any longer. He wrung the cloth out, and then headed back over to Fenton who was still sitting on the gym floor where Dash had left him. He looked up at Dash with a guarded expression, watching as Dash dropped back down beside him.

“Shirt off,” Dash instructed quietly, his voice hoarse.

Fenton thankfully did as he was asked without complaint. As soon as the shirt came off, Dash spotted the long cut extending down Fenton’s back, from his left shoulder blade almost down to the opposite hip. It had either not been very deep to begin with or his healing powers had taken care of most of it, because there were only a few spots along its length where blood was still beading up, but the skin around the wound looked red and raw, and Dash imagined it was quite painful. He began to gently dab at the wound, wiping away any dirt that might have gotten inside.

After a few minutes of cleaning in silence, Dash cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. He kept his eyes trained on Fenton’s back, the rag working across Fenton’s pale skin. “About what I said last night. I wish I could say I didn’t mean it, or that it won’t happen again, but…I don’t want to lie to you either. Seeing as how lying was kind of the problem.”

Fenton twitched a little under his ministrations, but otherwise didn’t seem to react to Dash’s words. For a second, Dash faltered, wondering if he was wasting his breath trying to apologize, but then he remembered what Kwan had told him.

Apologize. Admit what you did wrong. Try to do better.

“I’m…I’m trying to be better,” Dash continued haltingly. “I know that I’ve been a total asshole in the past, and that I’ve been really, really mean to you, but I swear I’m trying. I guess it’s just…even though I’m trying my best…sometimes it’s just easier to act the way I used to. It’s habit.”

Fenton’s head turned just enough that Dash could see him looking back at Dash out of the corner of his eye. Seeing that Fenton seemed to be listening after all, Dash forced himself to finish.

“The more I try, the easier it’ll be to be a better person,” he said. “But it’s…it’s like football. I didn’t just become the best quarterback in the league overnight. Sure, I’m a natural at it, but raw talent isn’t enough. I had to practice day in and day out for years to get where I am, and sometimes I still fuck up. I figure…it’s like that, right? At least, that’s what Kwan said.”

Fenton still wasn’t speaking, so Dash sighed, his eyes slipping shut for a moment and his hand stilling against Fenton’s back. “Just…I’m sorry about what I said last night and I’m sorry about all the shit I’ve put you through over the years and I’m sorry that I’m probably going to slip up and be a dick again sometimes. But I’m not sorry I tried to help you. And I’m not going to stop trying to help you.”

Finally, Fenton spoke, his voice cracking. “You could get hurt.”

“Pretty sure you wouldn’t let that happen,” Dash said with a huff, thinking back to how scary Fenton had gotten when the dragon had grabbed him. “Thanks for saving me, by the way.”

Fenton started to turn, and Dash automatically shifted back to give him space. He stiffened when he saw the way Fenton was looking at him, something like wonder and disbelief in his eyes.

“You really have changed, haven’t you?” Fenton breathed, shaking his head. “Like, this isn’t just a game, or a phase or something. You…you’re really trying.”

Feeling bashful, Dash could only give a half-hearted shrug. “I mean. Yeah?”

Fenton stared at him for a moment longer, and then his gaze dropped down to his lap. He licked his lips nervously, his fingers twisting and untwisting in his lap.

“I owe you an apology too, Dash,” Fenton told him, his eyes still locked on his hands.

Dash gave him a funny look. “What? No, no you don’t.”

“I really do,” Fenton insisted. “I…haven’t always been the nicest to you either. I’ll admit, I’ve used my powers on you in the past to embarrass you or to…get even with you.”

“You have?” Dash blinked, trying to recall anything that had happened to him in the past that might have secretly been Fenton using his ghost powers on him. “Like what?”

“Stuffing your locker full of your teddy bear collection, for one,” Fenton said with a weak smirk.

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that one.”

“It’s not just that, though,” Fenton continued, the smile dropping off of his face just as quickly as it had appeared. “You weren’t the only one tossing around threats last night. I was out of line too.”

Dash squirmed at the reminder of how easily Fenton had lifted him up and pinned him against the wall. “I mean…you were just defending yourself, right?”

“Dash.” Fenton gave him a sharp look. “I had you in a chokehold. I think that might be a bit hard to claim as self-defense.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“And, most importantly…” Fenton faltered for a moment, swaying in place as he stumbled over his words. After a quick pause and a short inhale to gather his thoughts, he continued. “Most importantly, I was still assuming the worst of you. I was keeping you in the dark and at arms length because I assumed that all of your attempts to change were just temporary. I figured eventually you’d get bored, or one of the other guys on the team would say something, and suddenly things would go right back to the way they were before.”

He shifted then, moving onto his knees so that he could face Dash fully, an earnest expression growing on his face. “But that’s not the case, is it? You’re…you’re really trying, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize that.”

Dash felt himself slowly starting to relax for the first time since he’d heard the students screaming in the halls. “Maybe we should just…start over?” he suggested. “Start fresh?”

Fenton’s lips twitched with a smile, and he reached out one of his hands. “Hi. I’m Danny Fenton, nice to meet you.”

“Dash Baxter,” Dash replied with a grin, taking Fenton’s hand in his own and giving it a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Fenton.”

“You know…” Fenton’s expression turned thoughtful. “Given everything we’ve been through lately…you know you can call me Danny, right?”

Dash’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, but then he found his grin growing even larger. “Alright. I think I can handle that…Danny.”

Danny’s answering smile was bright enough to light up the room.

When Manson and Foley rushed into the gym a few minutes later, it was to find Dash and Danny laughing and joking with each other, Dash guffawing so hard that tears sprang to the corners of his eyes as Danny filled him in on one of his misadventures from before Dash had joined the team.

“Uh…what the heck is happening here?” Manson asked, looking stunned.

“We got the thermos,” Foley said faintly, holding up said thermos even as he stared at Dash and Danny in slack-jawed amazement. “...what happened to Prince Aragoof?”

Dash managed to get his laughter under control just long enough to jerk his thumb over at Danny and report. “Danny here chased him off. Dude ran for the hills!”

“He ran away?”

“Danny?!”

Foley’s squeak made Danny duck his head bashfully. “Yeah. Dash and I agreed to start over. He’s a part of Team Phantom, right? Time to actually treat it that way.”

“Wait,” Manson narrowed her eyes at them. “Wait, he knows? About you and…Phantom?”

“Found out last night,” Dash admitted with a shrug. “Wish I could say I took it well.”

“Could have gone worse,” Danny offered.

“Not by much.”

“Heh, true.”

“Oh man, that’s such a relief!” Foley groaned.

Manson did a double-take, staring at Foley. “What?”

“Come on, Sam. It’s been such a pain trying to hide Danny’s secret when half the time Dash is there patching him up right before he transforms! This is going to be way easier now!”

Her expression turned thoughtful, and she hummed under her breath. “I suppose…”

“And hey, now that you and Dash are friends again, maybe we can hang out with Dale again!” Foley cheered. “I’ve got this new beef jerky I’ve been wanting to test out with him!”

Dash burst out laughing, drowning out Manson’s groan of annoyance. “Pretty sure Dale’s got a bottle of hot sauce with your name on it, Foley. He’s been hanging onto it for weeks.”

Foley’s nose wrinkled. “Hey, if Danny gets to be Danny, can you call us by our actual names now too?”

Dash straightened, and then gave a nod of acknowledgement. “Alright, Tucker. I think that’s fair. What do you say, Sam?”

She looked like she’d just taken a sip of spoiled milk. “That sounds so weird, coming from you. But…” She then gave him a small smile, reaching out to punch him lightly on the shoulder. “I guess I can get used to it.”

“Sweet! Team Phantom has leveled up!” Tucker cheered.

“Ugh, guess I gotta get used to all this nerd crap, huh,” Dash teased them good-naturedly.

He went stiff when Danny suddenly slung an arm around Dash’s shoulder, pulling him tight against Danny’s side.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Danny told him with a cheeky grin that made Dash’s heart flutter in his chest and his cheeks go pink.

“Boys,” Sam muttered with a roll of her eyes, but from the way the corners of her lips were twitching upward, Dash knew that she was just as happy about this turn of events as the rest of them.

Chapter Text

Dinner that night had been a quiet affair, as usual. His mom had prepared some over-the-top complicated casserole dish with three different sides as a trial for her next cooking show episode, ladling large helpings onto Dash and his dad’s plates and giving them the stink eye when they both tried to ask for less. Once she’d finished serving up the meal, she took her own seat at the end of the table opposite his dad, smoothing out her skirt as she settled, and then picked up her glass of wine.

“So, Dashie,” she began, looking at him over the rim of her glass. “I hear there was another ghost attack at school today.”

“Uh, yeah?” Dash replied, stabbing a few green beans onto his fork. “I mean, it’s Tuesday, so…”

“I also got a call from your principal,” she continued, as if Dash hadn’t even said anything. “She said that you did something very heroic today.”

Dash frowned, looking up at her. “I did?”

“Yes! She said a couple of younger students got trapped in the gymnasium during the attack, and that you helped them get to safety!”

For a moment, Dash felt his insides turn to ice. How had the principal known that? Had there been cameras in the gym somewhere? Dash had assumed any security cameras that might have been there would have been destroyed during the dragon’s rampage, but what if one of them survived? What if it caught Danny’s transformation on camera?!

“O-oh? What else did she say?” Dash asked as casually as he could, hoping his voice didn’t sound as squeaky to his mom as it did to him.

“The students apparently told everyone about what you did for them,” his mom gushed, taking a sip of her wine before leaning across the table closer to Dash, as if she was sharing a secret. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, hun, but I did ask if the school might consider giving you some sort of award for your heroism, and the principal didn’t exactly say no!”

“That’s my boy!” his dad cheered around a mouthful of chicken. “A real American hero!”

Dash tried to smile, to bask in their pride, but deep inside he felt his stomach sinking. While it was good that it sounded like there was no risk of Danny's secret getting leaked, Dash kept thinking about how scratched up and bruised Danny had looked at the end of the battle, after fighting off a dragon to defend the school. Danny had saved way more than just two people. Danny had saved everyone, but he wasn’t going to get an award for it. All he’d gotten was a bunch of new injuries that he’d have to lie about until his powers healed them.

In fact, Danny had been busting his ass for years protecting all of Amity Park, but not once had he ever been able to receive any recognition for it. The thought made the food in Dash’s stomach turn to lead, and he slowly put his fork down, his appetite gone.

“I’m so proud of you, Dashie!” his mom cooed, reaching across the table to pat him on the arm. “The second I heard the news, I knew just the thing to celebrate, and I whipped it up straight away!”

She got up from the table and headed over to the kitchen. The sour feeling in Dash’s gut only grew as she walked away; they hadn’t even asked him if he’d been hurt during the ghost attack. All they cared about was that he had played the golden boy, had made himself look good so that they could look good. He still had a huge gash on his shoulder from where the dragon’s scales had scraped him, and neither of them had asked about it once.

When his mom swept back into the room carrying the cake platter with a two-layer cake on it beautifully decorated in buttercream rosettes, Dash had to hide his grimace behind wiping his face with his napkin. That was way too much cake for three people to eat, what the heck was she thinking?

“I made your favourite, Dashie!” his mom declared. “Chocolate Oreo!”

Chocolate Oreo hadn’t been his favourite since he was twelve.

“Thanks, mom,” Dash said with a pasted on smile. “It looks amazing.”

She set the cake tray down in the middle of the table with a flourish, before sitting back down and smoothing her skirts once more. “Make sure you finish your dinner, then, and I’ll cut you a big slice. You deserve it for being such a hero!”

Dash had been just about to take another bite of his dinner to appease her, but her words made him freeze with his fork halfway up to his lips. Before he could think better of it, he suddenly blurted out, “You know, Danny Fenton was way more of a hero than me today. Pretty sure I saw him rescuing, like, half the class.”

Then he shut his mouth so fast his teeth clicked together. What the hell had he been thinking? Why had he just said that?!

The sounds of clinking cutlery and slow chewing cut off. His mom’s grin looked fixed in place, but his dad didn’t bother hiding his disdain.

“The Fenton boy?” his dad grunted, giving Dash an incredulous look. “I find that hard to believe. The kid weighs fifty pounds soaking wet!”

“Oh, Brad,” his mom scolded, daintily cutting herself another portion of her chicken. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“Me? I’m exaggerating?” Dash’s dad said with a laugh. “Listen to Dashie, here! Please, the Fenton kid, saving anybody? Good one, son!”

“I’m not kidding,” Dash said quietly, glaring down at his plate.

“I mean, I’m not going to lie, I’ve always suspected something was up with that kid,” his dad continued, gesturing with his fork. “His parents are just completely bonkers, and you know the apple probably doesn’t fall far from the tree in that household. Honestly, the fact that their daughter is the black sheep of the family is just tragic, she’s so…put together!”

“She seems lovely, yes,” his mom agreed, taking a demure sip of her wine. “The Fenton boy though…you’re right. Something about him always struck me as a bit…off.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Danny,” Dash growled, his grip on his fork tightening.

“Oh honey, I know you want to see the best in everyone,” his mom simpered, reaching across the table to rest a hand on his arm. “That’s so noble of you. But honey, you also have to remember that not everyone is as kind as you are. There are some not-so-nice folk out there, and you need to keep your distance from them so they don’t take advantage of you.”

Dash could only gape at his mother. How could she have it so twisted up? How had he never noticed how terrible her advice was?

“Danny doesn’t take advantage of me,” Dash insisted, shrugging her hand off. “Danny’s a good guy, you have it all wrong.”

Her expression soured like she’d just sucked on a lemon. “Dash, honey. You’re not…spending time with the Fenton boy, are you?”

“What if I am?” Dash demanded.

“What about your other friends?” his dad asked, confused. “What about Kwan?”

“I still hang out with Kwan too,” Dash told them. “I just also hang out with Danny now.”

“Dash, you know we’re happy that you’re making friends,” his mom told him gently as she toyed with the stem of her wine glass. “We just want to make sure that your friends are a positive influence on you. That they’re there to support you and help you grow. I’m sure…Danny seems nice to you, but you need to be careful. I don’t want him taking advantage of you.”

“Taking advantage of me?” Dash repeated incredulously. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? This isn’t one of your stupid period drama shows mom! I’m not going to the ball to marry the princess or whatever.”

“Yeah, Sharon, you make it sound like the Fenton kid might be making eyes at our son or something.” His dad had said it with a bit of a smirk, trying to play it off as a joke, but Dash could see that the humor didn’t reach his eyes.

She shot him a poisonous smile over the rim of her wine glass. “Well, Brad, you would be the expert, wouldn’t you?”

His dad’s smile fell and his expression darkened.

Sniffing haughtily, his mom took a little sip of her wine, before setting it back down on the table. “To be fair, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that the Fenton boy was…gay. He has that air about him, after all. Such a shame, at least his parents had one child to be proud of. Imagine how awful it would be to find out that one of your family members was a homosexual.” She gave his dad a nasty, pointed look.

Dash stared at his mom in disbelief. He looked to his dad next, but his dad was glaring down at his dinner plate, fuming. He didn’t say a word to defend himself, and when Dash looked back over at his mom, he could see the way she was helping herself to another morsel of food with a pleased smile playing around the edges of her lips. She’d struck a blow, and she knew it.

Only, she didn’t know who exactly she’d hit.

“I’m gay.”

His mom’s knife screeched across her plate, the sound loud and piercing. His dad had been in the middle of picking up his fork to eat again, but it clattered back against his plate. Both of them turned to look at him with shellshocked expressions.

Dash froze. He couldn’t believe that had just slipped out. He’d been thinking of saying it, of course, thinking of how he might wipe the smug look off of his mom’s face, but he didn’t mean to actually do it!

He opened his mouth, ready to take it all back, when something made him pause. No. No, he wasn’t going to deny it. His parents were accusing Danny of being the very thing that Dash was, like it was something awful or horrible. But Danny wasn’t horrible. Danny was good, Danny was so good and so brave and so selfless, and maybe this time Dash would actually try to be like that, to be strong like him.

His mom cleared her throat, drawing Dash’s attention to her, and he watched as she pasted a wide smile on her face. “Sorry, honey, I think I missed that.”

This was it. He was going to do it.

“I’m gay,” Dash repeated, loudly enough this time that there was no way she could claim to mishear him.

The smile dropped off of her face just as fast as it had appeared. “Dash. That’s not funny.”

His pulse was so loud in his ears, Dash almost couldn’t hear her clearly. His heart was racing and he could feel the sweat beading up on his forehead, but he was just so furious, he couldn’t stop the words that kept spewing out of his mouth. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

“Dash,” his dad cut in sharply, giving Dash a warning look. “Don’t antagonize your mother. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but we don’t joke about these things.”

“I’m not joking,” Dash growled, shoving his chair back so he could stand with his hands braced on the table. “I’m gay. I like boys. I want to kiss a boy. Maybe even marry a boy someday if I’m lucky. Because I. Am. Gay.”

There was a long silence. Dash’s heart continued to race in his chest, his breathing heavy as he waited and waited for their reactions, but both of them seemed frozen in place, just staring at him.

And then his mom picked up her mostly finished wine glass, and threw the wine in his dad’s face.

“What the fuck, Sharon!” his dad gasped.

“This is your fault!” she hissed, slamming the wine glass back down on the table.

“My fault?!”

“You, and your sick, fucked up — !” She seemed to struggle for words for a moment, gesturing to Dash’s dad with her hands like that explained what she was trying to convey.

“How the fuck could this be my fault when you barely let me speak to the damn boy?!” his dad roared, pounding his fist on the table. “You always said I’d be a bad influence, so I’ve barely spent five goddamned minutes with my own son one on one since he was five!”

“Well clearly you still managed it somehow!”

“How the hell do we know that you’re not the one to blame, huh?” his dad demanded, an unpleasant smile on his face. He waved towards the elaborate dinner spread on the table, and the cake at its center. “I mean, he spends so much time with you and your goddamned cooking show, instead of spending time with real men, of course he was going to turn out to be a fucking fruit like me!”

“Don’t you dare blame me for this, Brad!”

Dash couldn't take it anymore. He didn’t want to hear them say these horrible things anymore. Neither one of them was even looking his way now, too busy trying to verbally tear each other apart, and Dash knew from experience that in a few minutes the glassware would be flying. Fed up, he abruptly spun around and ran from the table, leaving their argument behind. He thought he heard one of them call his name, but the ringing in his ears was so loud that it drowned out everything else. He didn’t look back.

He took the stairs two at a time, rushing into his room and slamming the door behind him as loudly as he could. He turned the lock on the door, and then shoved his desk chair underneath the handle just in case. The last thing he wanted right now was for his parents to burst in on him. Once that was settled, Dash sat down heavily on his bed, breathing hard. His vision was blurry and he was pretty sure he was shaking as his mind tried its best to process what had just happened.

He’d told his parents that he was gay. Holy shit he’d told them. What the fuck had he been thinking?! He was so fucked!

He sat there for a moment, choking down big gulps of air as his panicked mind tried to sort itself out. Okay. Okay, calm down. Think of a plan. What would Phantom do in this situation? Fuck, what would Danny do?

Thinking about Danny made Dash’s breathing grow more ragged again. He couldn’t believe he’d just outed himself to his parents because they’d been badmouthing Danny. Fuck, some of the shit he himself had said about Danny before had been worse! But they’d been shitting on Danny. Danny, who was a goddamned hero and a good guy who had done so much for everyone as Phantom, only to never get properly recognized for it. Meanwhile Dash had been an ass his whole life and received nothing but praise! He didn’t deserve it, Danny did! But Danny was the one who got kicked around and badmouthed. Danny fought so hard to protect everyone, and they treated him like shit! It just wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair!

That frustration had built up into this perfect storm that had sent Dash over the edge, and just like always, he’d lost control of his temper. Only this time the consequences were going to be way worse than being forced to serve detention or run some extra laps. Fuck, his parents were going to disown him, weren’t they? As soon as they finished fighting they were going to come straight up here and tell Dash to pack his bags.

Well, fuck ‘em. Dash would already have his shit packed when they got here.

A shaky plan in place, Dash stomped over to his closet and dug out the biggest suitcase he owned. He threw it down heavily on the bed, and started gathering up clothes, textbooks, and personal items that he thought he’d need. At first it was easy to pick what he should bring, but when he went back into his closet to grab some more clothes and spotted his teddy bear collection, he suddenly drew up short. For a long moment, he just stared at the bins, his breath hitching in his chest.

Slowly he started to turn in place, looking around his bedroom and cataloguing all of the things that he’d have to leave behind. His books, his CDs, his video games. His baseball bat and glove from his little league days. The corkboard full of polaroids on his wall that had gone up the summer after Paulina had gotten her first camera so that he could display all the photos she’d taken. So many things that he couldn’t bring with him. He wouldn’t be able to fit any of them in his suitcase.

It hit him all of the sudden that he was about to lose everything he’d ever known, and he couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. He turned back to reach into the closet and picked up one particularly threadbare stuffy, a teddy that had once been a brilliant white with a blue belly, but had now dulled to mostly dirty grey with age. It had been his favourite stuffed animal growing up, and had been the first bear he’d considered a part of his collection. He stared into the bear’s chipped plastic eyes, and the tears began to run freely down his cheeks.

“Fuck,” he repeated more vehemently, and then he buried his face in the teddy’s tummy and started to sob.

He didn’t know how long he cried into his old bear, but the sound of breaking glass echoing from downstairs made him look up. It was a reminder that he was running out of time.

With a sniff, he tucked the teddy carefully away in his suitcase, before turning to look around the rest of his room. He didn’t have a lot of space left in the suitcase for much else after all of his clothes, but after thinking hard about it for a moment, he decided there wasn’t really that much more he wanted to take, besides the pictures of him and his friends. The sports trophies and awards had always meant more to his parents than they had to him, just another way of making the family look good, and the rest of the stuff was all stuff his parents thought he should like, not necessarily stuff he was actually interested in. Sniffing again, he gathered up his photos, hiding them in the folds of one of his t-shirts.

And then that was it. His entire life, everything he’d have to call his own going forward, was now packed away in a single suitcase.

Now what?

Even though he’d originally planned to be sitting here with his shit packed when his parents came up to kick him out, now that he wasn’t rushing around anymore, the idea made him want to throw up. He didn’t want to face them, he didn’t want to see the hate and disgust in their eyes. And besides, even if he did stand up to them and walk past them out the door with his suitcase under his arm and his head held high, what was he supposed to do after? Where could he even go?

His eyes swept the room, and landed on his letterman hanging off the hook on his wall. The sight of it made him think of the team, and then the one person he had always been able to turn to whenever he needed to get away from home.

Two seconds later his phone was pressed against his ear and ringing.

Three rings in, and the call connected. “Hello?”

“Kwan,” Dash breathed.

“Dash? Hey man, how’s it going?”

“Kwan, man. I…I need to ask a big favour.” Dash nervously ran his free hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face.

Kwan must have been able to hear the tremor in Dash’s voice, because his own grew more serious, the earlier cheer fading. “Yeah, man, of course. Anything you need. What’s up?”

“I…need a place to stay? For a while?” Dash scrubbed at his cheeks, feeling a fresh wave of tears building up.

“...How long?”

Dash managed to choke back a sob, but he couldn’t stop his sniffles. “I don’t know,” he admitted in a small voice.

“Doesn’t matter. The answer is yes,” Kwan told him firmly. “Hang on, I gotta go let my dad know.”

Kwan’s side of the conversation grew muffled, but Dash could still make out the sound of stomping footsteps, followed by a door opening.

“Dad! Dash is coming over to stay for a while, okay?”

“Okay?” Kwan’s dad said, sounding confused. “Today, you mean?”

“Yeah. Right now.”

There was a short, thoughtful pause, and then Kwan’s dad asked, “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll fill you in on what’s happening in a sec, dad, kay?”

“...Alright. I’ll get the air mattress out.”

“Thanks dad!”

There were a few more scuffling sounds, and then Kwan’s voice came back loud and clear. “I’m going to get my room set up for you. Are you driving over now?”

Dash winced, realizing the huge flaw in his plan. He couldn’t take the car, it belonged to his parents, even if they let him drive it. And Kwan’s house was all the way across town, it would take hours to walk over.

“Actually, can I get a ride?” he asked reluctantly. He heard the sound of more glass breaking downstairs, and he instinctively flinched. Was it just him, or did that sound closer than before?

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” Kwan replied sadly, drawing Dash’s attention away from the sounds of fighting going on downstairs and back to the conversation. “My dad’s car’s in the shop, and my mom won’t be home from work for another hour at least. Can you wait until then?”

Absolutely not. Dash wasn’t spending one extra minute in this house if he could help it.

“I’ll figure something out,” he told Kwan, even as his mind raced over possibilities. He’d never really taken the bus before, but surely it couldn’t be that hard to figure out, right? Shit, did they even run this late? Whatever, if he had to walk across town dragging his suitcase the whole way he’d do it. He just couldn’t stay here any longer. “Don’t worry, man.”

“Of course I’m going to worry,” Kwan objected. “I don’t know what’s going on, man, but you don’t sound good.”

“I just…need to get out of here,” Dash sighed.

“Well, you’ve got a place to stay with us,” Kwan promised him. “So come on over.”

“Thanks, Kwan. You’re honestly a lifesaver. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Please let me know when you figure out your ride. If I don’t hear from you in the next twenty minutes, I’m going to call you myself, okay? And if you don’t pick up, I’m calling the cops.”

“Please don’t,” Dash begged, his face going pale at the idea. If he thought his parents were angry now, he didn’t even want to think about how furious they’d be if someone called the cops on them. “That would make everything so much worse.”

“...fine. But you better call me, then.”

“I will, I promise,” Dash assured him. “I’ll talk to you soon, buddy.”

“Talk to you soon, Dash.”

Dash ended the call with a press of the button. Once that was done, he let out a shaky breath, feeling his nerves starting to settle a little bit. Okay. Alright. He had a place to stay now. He wasn’t going to be spending the night on the street. That was good. But how was he supposed to get there?

As he stared down at his phone, one of his contacts caught his eye. He’d saved the number on a whim after that night in the park, and now his thumb hovered over the button for it, his resolve wavering. He could try calling them, right? He’d been there to help them out in emergencies so many times, surely they’d be willing to return the favour, wouldn’t they? And hey, all he was asking for was a ride. Friends bummed rides off of each other all the time, and they were friends now, weren’t they? They’d all asked him to call them by their first names, surely that meant they were friends.

He pressed the button before he could think better of it, bringing the phone back up to his ear with trembling fingers.

She picked up on the first ring. “Dash? What’s up?”

“H-hey Manso — I mean, Sam,” Dash choked out. “Look, I, uh. Was wondering if I could ask a favour?”

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, her tone firm.

“Nothing!” Dash lied, feeling panicked. They might have been friends now, but they weren’t that close yet. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “Nothing. I just…really need a ride to Kwan’s house. You’ve got a driver or something, right? Can he give me a lift?”

“Dash, you wouldn’t be calling me out of the blue like this if it was nothing,” Sam pointed out. In the background, Dash thought he could make out Danny and Tucker asking her something, but he couldn’t hear the words clearly.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, okay?” Dash bit out.

“Whatever’s going on right now, Dash, we — hey!”

The phone call dissolved into a bunch of crackles and rustling sounds. Dash thought he heard Sam swearing at someone, but then the call quieted, and a new voice suddenly came through the line.

“Dash?”

Despite how stressed out he was right now, Dash couldn’t help but perk up a little at the sound of Danny’s voice. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but...are you okay?”

Dash hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the concern in Danny’s voice. He took in a deep, shaky breath, and then let out a noise that was both a sob and a laugh. “Honestly? Not really, but that doesn’t matter right now. I just need to know if I can catch a ride, okay? That’s all I need right now.”

“Where are you?”

“At h-home,” Dash told him, stumbling over the word. Was it really home anymore? He shook his head, deciding that was a crisis he could save for later.

“...we’ll be there in five minutes.”

Dash heard a click of the call disconnecting, and he flipped his phone shut and shoved it into his pocket. Danny had said five minutes, but if Dash remembered what the rumors had said, Manson lived closer to the edge of the city. Unless the trio happened to be out and about near Dash’s neck of the woods, he highly doubted that they’d make it over here that quickly. He decided to do a second pass through his room, see if there was anything else he missed while he was waiting.

Five minutes later on the dot, however, he was startled by Danny, Sam, and Tucker suddenly appearing in his bedroom, Danny in his ghost form phasing them straight through the wall. Dash yelped and jumped in the air when he caught sight of them, crashing back against his bedroom wall and knocking one of the picture frames down.

“Hey, sorry to pop in like this,” Danny apologized as he helped Sam and Tucker land on Dash’s bedroom rug. “We heard some sort of…commotion going on downstairs and we figured it was better to avoid the front door.”

Dash had been planning to escape out the window, so this actually worked out just as well. “T-that’s fine,” he told them. “T-thanks for coming.”

“What do you need?” Sam asked, looking around the room with her hands on her hips. Her eyes landed on Dash’s lone suitcase, and her nose wrinkled. “That’s not all you’re taking, is it?”

Dash flushed in embarrassment. She hadn’t asked why he’d needed to pack a whole suitcase just to go over to Kwan’s house, which meant she probably already suspected what was going on. To be fair, it probably wasn’t hard to guess what the situation was if they’d heard his parents fighting.

“I don’t want to bring too much stuff,” Dash replied a bit defensively. “Not sure how much space I’ll have.”

She gave him a searching look, and then turned back to the rest of the room. “If there’s something you need stored, my house has, like, fifteen guest rooms. I don’t mind holding onto things for you, if you have stuff you want…kept safe, or whatever.”

He blinked at her. “Are you serious?”

“It’s no biggie,” she said with a dismissive shrug.

Dash bit his lip, looking around his room with a more critical eye now. If she was willing to keep some of his belongings safe, maybe there were a few more things he could hold onto…

“You’re not leaving your CD collection, are you?” Tucker asked as he perused the bookshelf Dash used to store all of his CDs. “Dude, you’ve got the movie soundtrack for Pretty Woman? Nice! My mom loves that movie.”

Dash’s hackles automatically went up before he registered that Tucker’s tone was completely non-judgemental. He slowly forced himself to relax. “Yeah, I, uh. Didn’t think I’d be able to take all of them. That would be pretty heavy.”

“Nah, man, you gotta take them,” Tucker insisted. “There’s so many good ones here!”

“Do you have another suitcase we can use to pack them in?” Sam asked.

Dash shook his head. “There might be some old milk crates in the garage we could use, but…I don’t really want to go down there.”

“That’s okay, I’ll go,” Danny said, before he abruptly vanished from view.

“Grab a couple!” Sam called after him, before she made her way over to Dash’s closet. “Here, Dash, do you think you’re going to need any more clothes?”

“I should have enough,” he told her, trailing after her. She made to grab the door handle, and he automatically cut her off, blocking her from being able to open it.

“What’s wrong? You got porn in there you don’t want me to see?” she asked with a smirk.

Dash had already been blushing, but the casual way she’d said the word ‘porn’ just made him flush even harder. “What? No!”

“Then what’s wrong?”

He stood in front of the door, hemming and hawing for a moment, before ultimately deciding that he’d have to let her see. After all, if there was one thing he would want her to hang onto and keep safe, it was his most prized possessions.

“It’s…my teddy bear collection,” he admitted with a sigh. “I don’t like people knowing about it.”

She smirked. “I wish I could say this was unexpected, but honestly, the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more this seems perfectly in character.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dash demanded with a frown.

Her smirk softened. “It means you act tough, but you’re actually kind of a sweetheart under it all,” she told him frankly. “And Dash, that’s not a bad thing.”

He squirmed under her knowing gaze, looking away when it became too much. His parents had always insisted that his collection was sissy and childish, to the point that he had been forced to hide it from them at the back of his closet. Although Sam was teasing him about it, it felt more friendly than the snide comments his mom would toss around.

“Just…promise not to laugh?” he muttered.

“Of course,” she told him solemnly, thankfully picking up on his mood and dropping her joking attitude.

Dash pulled open his closet, and started bringing out the bins he used to store his teddies. There were actually quite a few, and he watched as Sam’s eyes grew wider and wider with each bin.

“Wow, Dash, when you said a collection, I thought you meant like, just a couple,” she said, reaching into one of the bins to pull out a teddy that was dressed like Elvis. “These are, like, actual collectibles.”

“Is it too much?” he asked.

She looked up, caught sight of his worried expression, and immediately scoffed. “No way, this won’t even take up a corner of the room. Bring it on.”

His shoulders sagged in relief. “Oh good. Hang on, there’s two more bins.”

The two of them started stacking the bins close to the bedroom window just as Danny rematerialized in the middle of the room, an old milk crate in hand. “Sorry that took a bit, I was having trouble finding an empty one.”

“Bring it over here, man, and we can start loading it up,” Tucker said.

The four of them set to quickly packing up the rest of Dash’s room, gathering up a few more things that Dash hadn’t thought he’d be able to keep. By the time they were done, there was a pile of belongings against the wall, the room looking completely trashed.

“Alright, I’ll start flying this down to the car,” Danny said, picking up the suitcase and Dash’s backpack to start. “Once you’re done doing your last walk-around, Dash, I’ll bring you down too.”

“Is this all going to fit?” Dash asked, starting at all of his stuff with a pained expression. “How much trunk space does a limo even have?”

“We didn’t bring the limo,” Sam told him.

“Yeah, it would have taken too long to come get you,” Danny agreed, crouching down so that Tucker could hop up onto his back and cling like a Koala while Danny’s hands were full. He stood back up smoothly, showing no signs of struggling with all of weight, Dash couldn’t help but notice. “My sister was closer, so we called her instead.”

Dash’s eyes widened. “You called Jazz?! Wait, did she see you like this?!”

“Don’t worry, she knows,” Danny quickly reassured him. “About me, that is. She doesn’t know anything about what’s going on here, but she’s willing to help be our getaway driver. She’s got the GAV parked around the corner, plenty of space for all of your stuff.”

“I…shit.” Dash felt his throat closing up again as it hit him how ready and willing everyone had been to help him, even when they didn’t know the full story. “I’ll have to thank her.”

“Do your circle check,” Danny said knowingly. “I’ll be right back.”

He hopped into the air, and then he and Tucker vanished through the wall, disappearing from sight. Sam watched them go, and then turned to face Dash’s bedroom door with a frown. She stalked over, pressing her ear to the door to listen.

“Anything?” Dash asked her, too scared to approach.

From the look on her face, Dash could tell that whatever she was hearing wasn’t pleasant. She growled low in her throat and shot the door a disgusted look. “Nana would wash my mouth out with soap if I ever said half of that stuff.”

A second later, Danny reappeared. “Here for the next load, did you guys grab anything else?”

He wished that Sam hadn’t heard his parents fighting, but Dash tried his best to shake off the sorrow and focus on more important things. “The only other thing I need is my jacket.”

“Alright. I’ll take some more stuff,” Danny said with a nod, before turning to Sam. “You ready to head down?”

To Dash’s surprise, she quickly glanced his way, and then turned back to Danny and shook her head. “If you’re not carrying me, you should be able to take the rest of the stuff all at once, right?”

Danny blinked at her. “Uh, I mean…”

“Here, I’ll help you load it all up, just hold out your arms.”

Dash watched in amazement as Sam managed to settle the rest of Dash’s things in Danny’s arms in such a way that he was able to carry it all, despite the fact that the stack was almost brushing the ceiling by the time she was done. She’d left a small gap in the middle for Danny to see through, but otherwise the ghost was completely buried in bins and bags, only his legs poking out.

“Freeze it together if you have to,” Sam instructed, stepping back to observe her work. “But that should be good. Now hurry up and get it to the GAV, Danny, chop chop!”

Danny muttered something under his breath about slave drivers, but he took off again, somehow managing to keep all of Dash’s belongings perfectly balanced in his arms.

Once he was gone, Dash looked at Sam and frowned. “Why didn’t you want to go with him?” he asked.

“Didn’t want to leave you alone,” she admitted without looking his way.

“...thanks.”

Dash’s heart was pounding in his chest as the two of them stood there in the middle of his room, waiting. Now that his stuff was gone, he had nothing to distract him from the fear that his parents would be storming up the stairs any second to come after him. Every little noise coming from downstairs made him flinch, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

Sam surprised him again, then. She shuffled over to his side, still pretending to find one of the football posters on his wall absolutely fascinating, and took his hand in her own. She gave it a comforting squeeze. It wasn’t much, but the reminder that Dash wasn’t alone, that an honest to god super hero was literally just outside the house on his way to help Dash escape, helped calm his nerves just the tiniest bit.

It felt like forever and like no time at all before Danny reappeared in Dash’s room for the last time. His green eyes flicked between Dash and Sam, before he held out his hands. “Ready to go?”

Dash took one last long look around the room, taking in the familiar walls and furnishings that he’d have to leave behind. With a painful sigh, he grabbed his letterman off of the hook and threw it on, coming back to face Danny.

“Yeah. I’m…I’m ready.”

Danny was gentle as he grabbed Dash around the middle, tucking him in close to Danny’s side while on the opposite side he did the same for Sam. Once he seemed to have a firm grip, he shifted, and Dash let out a little gasp as the feeling of ice water rushed over his body.

“You get used to it,” Sam told him with a laugh.

Dash didn’t have a chance to reply, though, because all of the sudden they were airborne. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open as he found himself looking down on his backyard from two stories up, nothing between him and the ground. He was flying.

“Hooooly shit,” he groaned.

“Hang on,” Danny told him with a soft chuckle. That was all the warning he gave before the three of them were abruptly zooming through the air, over the rooftops and headed towards the next street over. Dash gasped out loud, his heart in his throat, and instinctively clutched at the arm locked around his waist for dear life.

Thankfully the flight was short, and all too soon Dash was being gently set down on the sidewalk next to the monstrosity that the Fentons called a vehicle. Tucker popped out of the back as soon as they arrived, waving.

“Hey guys!” he greeted them.

A flash of red hair leaning out the driver’s side window caught Dash’s eye, and he looked over to spot Jasmine Fenton poking her head out. She caught Dash’s eye and gave him an encouraging smile.

“I gotta say, I was expecting some sort of adventure when I decided to come home for reading week,” she said with a laugh. “But I don’t think I could have predicted helping with moving.”

“Thanks, Jazz,” Dash said quietly, unsure where he stood with the older Fenton sibling. The last time she had seen him before she’d gone off to college, he’d still been making her brother’s life a living hell.

“Any friend of Danny’s is a friend of mine,” she replied, which helped loosen the nervous knot in Dash’s stomach. Danny must have filled her in on more than he’d said.

“Still, I appreciate the lift.”

“Hop on in,” she instructed them, jerking her thumb towards the back. “And hang on. I’m out of practice with driving this thing.”

“Better you than me,” Danny joked, sliding into the passenger seat next to her while Sam and Tucker helped Dash find a seat in the back.

“No kidding.”

She turned the key, and the GAV jumped to life with a rumble. A moment later she eased out onto the road and started driving, heading away from Dash’s neighborhood and out towards the highway. As the familiar houses of his neighbours slipped away, Dash let his eyes flutter closed, exhaustion tugging at his limbs as the adrenaline rush finally started to subside.

He must have fallen asleep, because it felt like only five minutes had passed before he felt someone start shaking his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open to find Danny hovering over him, a concerned look in his blue eyes. He’d changed back to his human form at some point during the drive.

“Hey, Dash. We’re here,” Danny said softly, his hand still resting on Dash’s shoulder.

Dash got out of his seat and followed Danny out of the back of the vehicle. When his feet hit the ground, he looked up and spotted Kwan standing in the doorway to his house, watching them. The moment Kwan spotted Dash, he visibly slumped in relief, before starting down the front walkway towards them. As he got closer, Dash abruptly remembered his promise, and he smacked himself in the forehead in dismay.

“Shit, man, I’m so sorry. I forgot to call.” Dash bit his lip, almost afraid to ask. “You didn’t actually call the cops, did you?”

“Don’t worry,” Kwan quickly assured him. “Tucker called me and filled me in. It’s fine.”

Dash looked back over his shoulder at Tucker, who noticed him looking and gave him a thumbs up. He, Sam, and Danny were pulling Dash’s suitcase and backpack out of the GAV, making sure the rest of Dash’s stuff was still secure, Jazz keeping an eye on everything from the driver’s seat. Once the suitcase and backpack were retrieved, the trio brought them over to Dash.

“Thanks, guys,” Dash told them, taking his stuff from their hands.

“Anytime, man,” Tucker said.

“Seriously. Call us if you need anything,” Sam insisted. She jerked her thumb back towards the GAV. “And don’t worry about the rest of your stuff. I’ll make sure it’s kept safe.”

“Thank you,” he said again, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his voice. Then he looked to Danny, who had hung back a little behind the others. “You guys are seriously lifesavers.”

“Like they said,” Danny murmured, holding Dash’s gaze without looking away. “Anything you need, we’ll be there. You’d do the same for us.”

“Yeah,” Dash agreed, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. “I would.”

The three at last said their goodbyes after extracting a promise from Dash that he would see them all tomorrow, and then with great reluctance they all headed back to the GAV. Dash watched as the hulking vehicle pulled out of Kwan’s driveway, Danny leaning out the window to wave at him as they peeled away. Only when its tail lights disappeared around the bend did Dash finally look away, turning to face Kwan.

As soon as he caught sight of Kwan’s face, though, he froze. Kwan’s expression was full of pain and understanding, and just like that Dash knew that Kwan knew.

He’d managed to keep it together this long, but as he stood there on his best friend’s front lawn, Dash could feel the tears returning with a vengeance.

“I told them,” he choked out. “I told them that I’m…that I’m gay. And they — shit!”

Kwan didn’t wait for another second, reaching out and pulling Dash into his arms. Dash’s suitcase and backpack dropped to the ground as he grabbed onto Kwan, clutching the back of his shirt like a lifeline while he buried his face into Kwan’s shoulder. Kwan didn’t say a thing as Dash broke down against him, merely shushed him gently while rubbing his back.

“It’s okay, Dash. It’s okay,” Kwan murmured. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to stay with me for as long as you need. You’re going to be just fine.”

Kwan’s soft reassurances weren’t enough to stop Dash’s tears, but they went a long way towards making him feel like he might just make it through this after all.

Chapter Text

Despite everything that had happened, the sun still rose the next day. And the next day. And the day after that. Coming out to his parents probably couldn’t have gone much worse than it had, but to Dash’s amazement, the world didn’t end. Fire didn’t rain down from the sky, animals didn’t start speaking in tongues. His whole life had irrevocably changed, but the planet kept right on spinning.

Kwan’s parents had been incredibly accommodating. Dash wasn’t sure what Kwan had told them, but they didn’t ask him many questions, and they didn’t press him for details. They just helped settle Dash into the guest room, and then welcomed him into their home like he’d always been there.

A few days later Dash was still kind of reeling a bit from being so suddenly uprooted, but he was starting to feel like he might actually be okay.

He’d been on his way to lunch on the third day after he’d left home, when he heard someone running towards him.

“Dash! Hey, Dash, wait up!”

Dash stopped mid-step and turned, already feeling a little bit lighter as he saw Danny hurrying down the hall in his direction. He waited until Danny caught up, snorting a little when Danny had to pause and catch his breath after his incredibly short jog. Danny might have had ghost powers, but he had the physical fitness level of a potato.

“Dude, I really gotta get you into the gym,” Dash joked.

Danny grimaced. “Didn’t we establish what a bad idea that is last time?”

“I never actually got you into the gym because I was being a giant dick, remember?” Dash said with a little smirk. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll take good care of you. You’ll be bench pressing a hundred pounds in no time.”

Danny’s breathing stuttered for a minute, before he gave his head a shake. “I mean, I can lift a bus as Phantom, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re not always Phantom, now are you?” Dash pointed out. He waited until Danny had recovered enough to straighten up, and then Dash threw an arm over Danny’s shoulder, pulling him towards the cafeteria. “Come on, man. I know my first attempt was a bit of a shit show, but you do really need to start eating better. I’ll help you pick out your lunch.”

“O-oh. Uh. Thanks, Dash,” Danny stuttered. He still looked flushed from his jog, and Dash shook his head at the reminder that Danny was really out of shape.

“Don’t mention it,” Dash said graciously. “Someone’s gotta look out for you, and as your unofficial medic, I guess that’s me.”

“With how many times you’ve patched me up now, pretty sure you’re officially my medic,” Danny laughed. The sound was warm and pleasant, and it made Dash feel all bubbly inside. He accidentally tightened his hold on Danny’s shoulders for just a second before he remembered himself and relaxed, reluctantly letting his arm drop away just as the two of them reached the cafeteria.

He thought he saw Danny giving him an odd look out of the corner of his eye, but Dash was too busy pushing the door open, and by the time he looked back, Danny had already glanced away.

The two of them picked out their meals, Danny insisting on grabbing a pudding cup despite Dash’s protests but agreeing to try the club sandwich instead of pizza, and then headed out to find their seats. As soon as they started walking, Dash saw Paulina waving at them from their usual table, Kwan looking up from beside her and giving them a big grin.

“Come on,” Dash told Danny, bumping him lightly with his shoulder.

They made their way to the table. As soon as they arrived, Marco moved over to give them some space to sit, acknowledging them with a raise of his water bottle. Dash dropped down across from Kwan, while Danny sat down beside him, across from Sam.

Dash glanced over to Dale who was sitting on the very end of the bench, talking animatedly with Tucker. He was holding a pouch of something in his hand and gesturing to it while he and Tucker talked, but aside from spotting a bunch of flames on the packaging, Dash had no idea what was inside.

“What are they taste-testing today?” he asked Sam with mild curiosity.

“Ghost pepper popcorn,” she reported, resting her hand on her chin. “Apparently they both thought the jalapeño flavour was too tame, so they’re ramping it up today.”

As soon as she finished speaking, both Tucker and Dale simultaneously popped a handful of popcorn into their mouths. The entire table table turned to watch as the two stared each other down, their faces slowly growing more red and their eyes watering as they waited for the other to crack first.

Just when Dash was seriously starting to think that they were both about to keel over with spice-induced heart attacks, Dale suddenly let out a loud gasp and frantically grabbed for the carton of milk that had been sitting ready next to his tray. He started chugging the whole thing down in one pull, tears streaming down his face.

“Yes!” Tucker wheezed, throwing his hands up into the air in victory, before he, too, grabbed his milk and gulped it down.

“Idiots,” Sam and Paulina both said simultaneously in the exact same tone, before looking at each other in surprise.

Dash shook his head. Entertainment over, he tucked into his meal.

“So how are you doing today, Dash?” Sam asked him a while later, toying with her fork as she looked over at him.

Dash paused mid-chew, thinking over the question. She’d asked that every single day so far this week, and while it had been a bit weird at first that she had seemed so invested in his life now, Danny had helpfully pointed out that Sam being overbearing was just the way she showed affection. Knowing that Sam actually did like him now, rather than just tolerate him, was kind of nice, and Dash found he didn’t mind her probing questions as much anymore.

He finished chewing the bite in his mouth, and then swallowed. “Eh, I can’t say I’m great, but I’m doing better. Each day seems to be a little bit easier, at least.”

“Have you…gone back at all?” Star asked, giving Dash a worried look, like she was afraid she’d bring up something painful and upset him.

And to be fair, her worry wasn’t exactly unfounded.

It had been incredibly difficult to tell the rest of his friends what had happened. They’d gathered together that first day after school — Dash, Kwan, and the group of A-listers he considered himself closest to — and it had all come spilling out. Kwan had ended up doing most of the talking, but Dash had admitted that he was gay after some careful encouragement from Kwan.

Their reactions had been…mixed at first. Some of them had taken it in stride, others had recoiled or reacted with uncertainty. Star had immediately thrown her arms around him in support, while Dale had punched him in the arm and told him that Dash still owed him a few sessions of spotting in the gym. Duke had been more wary, squirming with discomfort, but he still thanked Dash for being honest with them.

Paulina had been the most nerve-wracking one, and Dash had watched her face carefully as he made his confession. Her expression had remained smooth and blank throughout the entire story, and when it finished, her only reaction had been a slight twitch of her lips. She hung back when the rest of Dash’s friends had spoken to him, offering their support and friendship, until it was only her left, standing off to the side next to Marco.

Dash met her calculating gaze, and gave her a helpless shrug to try to hide his nerves. “Well?”

She pursed her lips and rested one of her hands on her cocked hip, looking him over. “So you’re a fruit now?”

Dash fought the urge to wince at the word. “I’m, uh. Gay. Yeah. A-always have been.”

“Huh.” She studied him critically for another moment, and then huffed and tossed her hair. “Whatever, you’re still coming with me to the mall on Saturday. Farah’s boutique is having a sale, and you’ll need to carry my bags.”

Just like that, Dash felt the anxiety rush out of him like water down the drain, his shoulders slumping in relief. If Paulina had accepted him, then he knew the rest of the school would eventually follow suit. She was the most popular girl in school for a reason; she knew how to make people follow her lead.

“Of course, Paulie,” Dash told her gratefully. “I’ll carry as much as you want.”

She smirked, and then reached up to pat him on the face. “You sure will. Daddy just gave me a new credit card. Be good, and I’ll get you a treat.”

Dash snorted. It had been a running joke between him and Paulina for years that she was his sugar momma, and the fact that she was still willing to act like nothing had changed was incredibly comforting.

He gave her a warm smile. “Thanks, Paulina.”

Her smirk softened, and the hand patting his face cupped his cheek instead. “Of course, Dashie. What are friends for?”

She’d been true to her word and thrown her whole support behind Dash, even when the rumors about his sexuality started to make their rounds through the school. A couple of the guys on the football team had grumbled and given Dash the stink eye, but Paulina had turned every single one of the cheerleaders onto Dash’s side, and no one was willing to mess with him when it would result in pretty much all of their girlfriends being furious. Dash was well aware that if not for her, he could have kissed his popularity and status goodbye, but he was relieved to see that their years of friendship hadn’t been superficial. The A-listers had stuck by him, and he was incredibly thankful for all of their support.

All of this passed through Dash’s mind as he considered how to answer Star’s question.

“Yeah, I snuck back home last night,” he confessed after a moment’s pause. “I wanted to grab a couple of books, and I wanted to visit Pookie.”

“Aww, how’s Pookie doing?” Star cooed, resting her chin on her hands.

“He looked okay when I saw him,” Dash replied. “God I miss him. He was so excited to see me, too; his tail was wagging so hard he couldn’t even walk straight.”

“Aww, sweetie!”

“Were…were your parents home?” Sam asked tentatively, expression grim.

Dash let out a big, gusty sigh. “No, I made sure they wouldn’t be before I snuck in. I…don’t think I’m ready to see them yet.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “But have they reached out to you at all?”

“Not yet,” Dash said with a shrug. “But I can’t say I’m surprised. We’re in this, like, stalemate.”

“Oh?” It was Danny’s turn to give Dash a concerned look. “What do you mean by that?”

“I just…I know them.” Dash’s eyes dropped to the remains of his lunch as he started poking at it with his fork. It was a good thing that he was pretty much done, because he’d just lost his appetite. “I know they’re both too proud to reach out to me first. They’ll probably wait until I go groveling back to them to even acknowledge that I’m gone.”

“But do they even know where you are?” Sam demanded, growing more upset on Dash’s behalf. “Aren’t they worried about you at all?”

Dash shrugged again. “They know I usually go hang out with Kwan when they’re fighting, so they probably can guess that’s where I’m staying. And no one has called them to tell them I’m missing from school, so they know I’m alive. At this point I think they’re just going to try to save face by pretending nothing ever happened.”

“That’s awful, though,” Star told him mournfully. “Dashie, I’m so sorry, hun.”

“It’s okay, Star,” Dash quickly reassured her, giving her a small smile. “It’s not all that bad, really. Getting to stay with Kwan has been pretty cool, and you guys have all been awesome.”

Star smiled and reached across the table to grab Dash’s hand and give it a little squeeze. “I’m so happy we’ve been able to help you out, Dashie.”

“Yeah, you really have,” he agreed. And then something else occurred to him, and he brightened up a little bit. “Actually, you want to know what the nice part of all this is?”

“What’s that?”

“I made it.” He gave Star a wild grin, full of teeth. “I made it through the worst of it, and I survived. I got kicked out of my home and my parents hate me now, but at least they know. I don’t have to hide it anymore. And even though I’m…y’know…I still have people who like me. I’m not all on my own.”

Star smiled back just as brightly. “That’s right! We’ve got your back now, hun!”

Shortly after, Star got sucked back into a discussion with Tanya about her new pet rabbit, and Dash was allowed to just take a moment to fall back out of the spotlight. He grabbed his water bottle and took a sip, but as he tilted his head back, he noticed Danny watching him out of the corner of his eye.

As he finished taking his drink, his cheeks still full of water, he turned to Danny and raised his eyebrow questioningly.

Danny jumped when he noticed he’d been caught, and then he gave Dash a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I just, uh…was thinking that you look really h-happy right now.”

Dash swallowed his water down, using the pause where he couldn’t speak out loud as a chance to gather his thoughts. He’d been doing that a lot recently; taking his time and trying to think first before speaking, rather than reacting off the cuff like he’d used to. Seeing as spitting out the first words that came to his head was what had landed him in this whole mess in the first place, he figured it was probably a good idea to try to break the habit.

His thirst quenched, Dash let out a satisfied noise, and then gave Danny a little grin. “Yeah, actually. I am happy, as weird as that sounds. Like, yeah, the whole thing with my parents sucked, but I’m actually feeling so much better, now that I don’t have all this shit weighing me down, you know?”

“That’s good,” Danny told him warmly. “I’m really glad to hear it, Dash. You deserve to have nice things happen to you.”

Later, as everyone split up to head to their next classes after lunch, Dash found himself once again walking down the mostly empty hallways with Danny at his side, the two of them heading to bio together. As they kept pace side-by-side, Dash looked over at Danny and gave him a conspiratory smile.

“You know, I can kinda thank you for all of this too,” he admitted to Danny, rubbing at the back of his neck, “in a weird way.”

“Huh?” Danny looked over at him in confusion, his head tilting in a totally adorable way, but then he seemed to remember what they’d been talking about at lunch. “Oh! You mean feeling better?”

Dash nodded. “Yeah, heh. I mean, the whole reason I even snapped and came out to my parents was because they were badmouthing you, and I kept thinking how much it sucks that you do so much for everyone but you never get any recognition. It just pissed me off so much, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”

“Y-you were…defending me?” Danny asked incredulously.

“Of course. You were in my mind basically the whole time,” Dash told him with a bright smile. “I mean, literally the moment it happened, I was thinking that I wanted to be brave like you for once.”

Danny didn’t respond to that; he just stared at Dash with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open a little, like he was surprised that Dash had thought so highly of him.

He seemed so distracted by Dash’s confession, that he’d stopped paying attention to where they were going, and he walked face-first into the doorframe to their classroom.

“Oh shit!” Dash yelped, catching Danny before he could fall over from the impact. “Geez, dude, you okay?”

“Yep! Fine! Totally fine!” Danny quickly declared, rubbing at his nose. “Nothing to see here!”

“Do I need to send you to the nurse, Mr. Fenton?” the biology teacher asked, watching them from inside the class.

“No, no! I’m alright!”

“Alright. Then would you boys kindly take your seats so I can start class?”

“Yes ma’am,” both Dash and Danny responded, heading into the class and sitting down at their respective desks. Danny sat behind Dash, so he wasn’t able to look back to check on him for the first few minutes, but once the teacher turned her back, Dash glanced over his shoulder.

Danny’s eyes were locked onto his notebook, one hand pushing his bangs up out of his face and supporting his head while the other hand tapped his pencil against his notebook in a nervous rhythm. His face was still flushed red, his expression troubled. As Dash watched, Danny glanced up in his direction, caught Dash looking, and immediately startled, his face going even redder as he quickly glanced away.

Unfortunately Dash didn’t have time to figure out what that had all been about, because the teacher finished drawing her diagram and began to lecture again. Dash turned back around to face the front, but at the back of his mind, he made a note to ask Danny later if he was feeling okay.

Things settled down for a bit. Dash got used to staying with Kwan, and slowly grew more comfortable in his own skin as he finally got the chance to be open about who he was rather than hiding it all the time. He managed to get into a routine again, similar enough to the way things had been before, but with a few positive changes.

Sam was now one of his regular workout buddies. It was actually kind of great having her around in the gym with the rest of the team, because she introduced so many new exercises that they’d never really tried before, freshening up their workouts. It meant that Dash had to do leg day more frequently, much to his chagrin. But despite her constant ribbing about his weak ankles, Dash found he enjoyed her company, and he made a point of returning the favour by making sure that she got first dibs on the equipment.

The best part was when they managed to drag Danny along with them; while they guided him through the exercises, they’d both take turns good-naturedly teasing him about his lack of regular exercise while they all worked out together. Danny usually left the gym complaining that they were trying to kill him all the way, but only a few weeks in, Dash had already noticed some improvements in Danny’s strength and stamina.

He’d even started talking to Jazz now, with the two of them having a standing weekly phone call session. Dash would spend his time filling Jazz in on all of the trouble Danny had gotten into over the course of the week, with reassurances that Dash had made sure to take care of him after, and then he’d get a chance for a free therapy session as Jazz used what psychology she’d been picking up from her college courses to help him sort through his troubled thoughts. She’d mentioned a few times how grateful she was for the calls, and it had made Dash feel great to have another chance to help people.

Ghosts still attacked on the regular, of course. That wasn’t about to change any time soon. Dash still occasionally got called in to help out with actually fighting them off, but his main role with the team remained playing medic after the fight. He’d been in and out of the local pharmacy so many times to restock his first aid kit that the staff all knew him by name at this point. Kwan was starting to wonder what exactly was going on with Dash and the others, but thankfully he’d been willing to let Dash fill him in on his own time. Still, Dash knew sooner or later he’d have to ask Danny if he was comfortable bringing Kwan into the loop. Seeing as now that they were living together, Kwan noticed when Dash was out late.

Overall, things had vastly improved for Dash, for the most part. But there was one thing that had changed a bit for the worse, and Dash wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it anymore.

Danny was avoiding him again.

Not completely, not like back when Dash had threatened him in the locker room. They still sat together at lunch, still worked together to protect Amity park from ghosts, still all hung out together as a big group. But the second Dash and Danny were ever alone in the same room? Somehow Danny either clammed up completely and stopped talking to him, or he found an excuse to quickly leave. It was like he couldn’t stand to be within ten feet of Dash without someone else there acting like a barrier.

The worst part was that, no matter how hard Dash wracked his mind, he couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong recently to upset Danny. At first he’d thought maybe Danny was grumpy about being dragged to the gym to work out, but then Danny kept showing up for their workouts. And he wasn’t mad at Sam, who was a big part of those gym sessions, so that couldn’t be it. Then he thought maybe he’d been too rough one of the times Danny had needed stitches. But Danny came straight to him without complaint the next time he needed a gash sewn up, so that couldn’t have been it either. Maybe he was cranky that Dash wasn’t making him smoothies anymore?!

The problem had been stewing at the back of Dash’s mind for a while, but it came creeping back to the forefront the next time he and Danny were alone together. Danny had just finished tangling with Spectra, stopping her from weaseling her way back into the school faculty via mind control. Sam and Tucker had left to go clean up the mess that they’d created in the school’s office before the teachers came back tomorrow and found it, while Dash had taken Danny into one of the school’s empty classrooms to patch him up. Danny had been quiet and withdrawn ever since the end of the fight, and his blue eyes were dull as Dash led him into the room and helped him hop up to sit on one of the desks.

Dash pulled out his kit and set to work, starting with the bleeding gash on the back of Danny’s head. But as the silence stretched, Dash’s worries chewed at him and chewed at him until he couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

“Hey Danny. I, uh. I was wondering…” he said tentatively, nibbling on his bottom lip as he cleaned Danny’s scalp with a bit of saline spray. “Did I…do something wrong recently? Or say something?”

Danny shifted a little, like he was going to turn back and look at Dash, but Dash put a bit of gentle pressure on Danny’s skull to keep him still, and he stopped. Still, he could hear the caution in Danny’s voice. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“I just…noticed that you seemed kind of…uncomfortable around me right now,” Dash admitted carefully, wiping away the last of the blood from the wound with a gauze pad. He inspected the cut critically, before deciding that despite how much it seemed to be bleeding, it would likely stop soon and wouldn’t need any bandages or glue. “I was wondering if I did something wrong.”

“...no, Dash. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Dash hesitated, his hands pausing their work. “Then…I said something?”

“No.”

Danny didn’t elaborate beyond that, and from the way his shoulders had gone stiff and tight, Dash figured any more questions would just make things worse. So he focused back on his first aid tasks, finishing up with Danny’s head before moving onto the next area of concern.

“Alright,” he said as he stepped around the desk to stand in front of Danny again, changing out his bloody gloves for clean ones. He snapped the band around his wrist, and then gave Danny a tight smile. “Pretty sure I saw her scratch you with her nails across your stomach, right? Shirt off, let’s see if you need stitches.”

To his surprise, Danny actually flinched and turned his head away. “She didn’t get me that bad,” he mumbled.

“Dude, I know for a fact she did. I saw the ectoplasm.”

“It’s already healing.”

“Dude. Danny.” Dash frowned. Danny hadn’t been this resistant to Dash patching him up since before Dash had known about his true identity. “What’s going on, man?”

“I…” Danny seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, before he ultimately caved with a sigh. “God, I don’t know. Sorry, I’m just…being stupid. Forget it.”

“...are you sure?” Dash asked, growing more worried by the minute.

“...yeah. Sorry. I’m just…I don’t know. Not thinking straight.”

“Happens to me all the time,” Dash joked, unable to resist.

To his delight, the terrible joke made Danny crack a smile, and he finally looked Dash in the eye for the first time in what felt like weeks. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I’d been…avoiding you,” he apologized. “I swear, it was nothing you did. I’m just, I dunno. Off, I guess.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“...not really.”

“That’s fine. Let’s just focus on your body, then. Can you take your shirt off for me, now?”

Danny’s face looked oddly red, but he finally did as Dash asked and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. “You just want to see me shirtless,” he grumbled.

Dash gave him a pleased grin. “Nah, that’s just a bonus,” he said, letting his eyes playfully rake over Danny’s bare chest.

Danny stared at him with his mouth hanging open for a moment, before he abruptly made a strangled noise and buried his face in his hands.

“Whoa.” Dash reared back, not expecting such a strong reaction to his teasing. “Dude, are you — ?”

“Dash,” Danny cut him off, raising his head to reveal that his blush now extended all the way to his ears. “Dash, you’re killing me. Are you — are you actually flirting with me? Like, for real? Because you’ve been saying stuff like that all the time now and I’m not sure if you mean it and it’s kind of driving me insane?”

“Wait, what?” Dash choked out. “Doing what? Flirting? I-I’m not…have I?”

Despite his red face, Danny gave Dash a completely unimpressed look. “Dude. You just said, and I quote, ‘let’s just focus on your body’ to me with a completely straight face. And last week you told me that my eyes when I’m human remind you of the sky but my eyes when I’m a ghost make you think of emeralds. You told me I was on your mind the whole time when you were coming out to your parents! A-and every time we’re working out, you-you keep making comments about my arms?! And how good they’re looking now?!”

“Well, I mean, they are already starting to look more toned.”

“That’s not the point!” Danny exploded. “The point is you’ve been saying all this stuff and, like, being so gentle with me and looking at me with these, like, soft looks, and I’m just…I’m really confused? You’re making me feel all funny inside and all of the sudden I can’t stop noticing how much you smile now and how much better you look now that you’re not staying with your parents and I’m dying inside because you keep flirting with me and I don’t know if you actually mean any of it or not!”

“What do you mean, whether I mean it or not?” Dash asked, feeling totally lost. “I mean, I didn’t realize how some of the stuff I was saying might actually sound, but when I’m complimenting you, I definitely mean it.”

“But…” Danny bit his lip and turned away. “Do you mean it as like, just…friend stuff? Or…?”

He couldn’t seem to finish his sentence, but he didn’t need to; Dash had caught his meaning anyways. It was Dash’s turn to gape at Danny in disbelief.

“Danny,” he began, shaking his head incredulously. “Dude. You have literally known longer than anyone that I like you. You were there when I figured it out myself!”

“Yeah, but…” Danny shrugged helplessly, still looking at anything but Dash. “That was before…before I shoved you around and threatened to, like, murder you in your sleep.”

“What?!”

“When you first found out about me being Phantom,” Danny clarified, his eyes dropping to his hands in his lap. “You seemed so pissed off that I’d known, I thought maybe something had changed, that…maybe I scared you off, or something, since you never really said anything about it after that.”

Dash thought back to just how much Danny pinning him against the wall hadn’t scared him, and fought down a blush of his own. “No, you…you startled me a little bit, but that’s all.”

Danny glanced up at him from beneath his bangs. “So…then why…?”

Dash just gave Danny a helpless shrug. “You knew the whole time I had a crush on you and you never said anything about it either. I kind of assumed that meant you weren’t interested, man.”

“Oh. I…guess that makes sense,” Danny agreed reluctantly. “I mean…I wasn’t.”

Dash couldn’t help but perk up a little at Danny’s use of past tense. “...wasn’t?”

“I mean, I didn’t think so,” Danny confessed, his arms coming up to clutch himself around his middle. “Only…like I said, you’ve been saying all these things and doing all this stuff and just — just smiling all the time, and it’s making me all twisted up inside and now I’m just really confused.”

“So…you…you might…” Dash had to pause for a moment to lick his lips, anxiety and excitement both building in his chest so quickly he was struggling to find his words. “You think you might…like me too?”

Danny just gave him a pained look. “I don’t…know? I don't…not like you.”

Wow. That was confidence inspiring.

Letting out a frustrated breath, Dash ran a hand through his hair. A part of him wanted to snap and demand Danny just explain himself already. But a bigger part of him, one that had been growing over the past few months as he tried his best to stop always acting on his first instincts, told him to take a second and think. Danny was clearly nervous, and blowing up at him would probably just ruin the moment. And if what Dash thought might be happening right now was actually happening, that was the last thing he wanted.

“Okay. Okay,” Dash said slowly, giving himself a chance to gather his thoughts. “So you don’t not like me. That’s…good.”

Danny let out a little huff of laughter that made Dash’s heart flutter in his chest. God, he loved that sound. He loved it even more when he was the one who caused it.

“I know, I know,” Danny said with a nervous smile. “It sounds so stupid when I say it like that. But what I mean is…ugh. I don’t know. This is…really new for me. I feel like my head’s a mess and I can’t tell what I’m thinking anymore.”

“Well, then. Uh.” Dash gave his lips another nervous lick, the anticipation growing as an idea occurred to him. “Maybe I could. Uh. Kiss you?”

Danny let out a flustered squeak. “K-kiss me?”

“Yeah. If…if you don’t want me to, then that means you don’t actually like me, right? And…and if I kiss you and you don’t like it, it means the same thing, right?”

“I…guess,” Danny agreed cautiously. “I mean, I think that makes sense.”

“Okay, so. Just. I’m going to kiss you now, then. Okay? And then we can just…see what you think.”

“Okay,” Danny breathed, his eyes wide and his cheeks red.

Dash’s face felt just as hot as he slowly leaned into Danny’s personal space, giving Danny plenty of time to tell him to stop or push him away. Danny did no such thing however, and Dash was soon standing between Danny’s legs as they hung off the edge of the desk, his hands coming up to cradle Danny’s face between his palms. Danny’s breath hitched a little as soon as Dash touched him, but he didn’t recoil. Instead he leaned into the touch just the tiniest bit.

Still, Dash hesitated, searching Danny’s eyes for any sign of apprehension or rejection. He knew damn well that if he did this, if he kissed Danny now, that something was going to change between them forever. He hoped it was for the better, but he just couldn’t be sure. What if this was all a mistake? What if Danny didn’t like the kiss after all?

What if he did?

But then Dash watched Danny’s eyes flutter closed, his lips parting just the tiniest bit in invitation, and Dash found that he couldn’t resist any longer. He leaned in, his own eyes slipping shut, and finally pressed their lips together.

It was a gentle kiss, the kind first kisses were meant to be. Just a soft brush of lips, barely long enough to be felt, and then Dash pulled away, his eyes slowly opening to look down at Danny’s face still inches away from his own.

“There,” he murmured, his palms still cupping Danny’s chin. “How was that?”

Danny made a wordless hum, his eyes still closed. “I…don’t think I know yet. Maybe you…should do it again? Just to be sure.”

Fighting back a grin, Dash did as requested, diving back in to press a second kiss to Danny’s lips, more firmly this time. Danny made a soft noise, and Dash felt Danny’s hands come up to tentatively rest on Dash’s arms, but Dash was more concerned with making this kiss much better than the first. His hands slipped up into Danny’s hair, cradling the back of his head and tilting it back so that Dash could deepen the kiss.

This time when he pulled back, Danny’s eyes opened as well.

“How was — ?”

“More,” Danny immediately demanded, reaching up to grab Dash’s face between his own hands and pull Dash back down.

Dash gasped in surprise against Danny’s lips, but then melted into it. His hands drifted down to clutch at Danny’s back while Danny’s started to make a mess out of Dash’s hair, grabbing the short blonde strands near the back and tugging lightly. Dash retaliated by tightening his grip on Danny’s waist, pulling him closer to the edge of the desk until their bodies were flush, pressed tightly together. The sudden contact made Danny groan, and Dash took advantage of his parted lips to slip his tongue into Danny’s mouth.

Their kissing only grew more heated after that. Danny’s hands were everywhere; in Dash’s hair, clinging to his shoulders, running up and down his back. Dash, on the other hand, was more focused on the kiss itself, licking into Danny’s mouth over and over to explore. Their breathing grew more ragged until the point they were practically panting against each other between kisses, their hearts racing in tandem as they grasped at each other.

And then Dash’s hands slipped into the back of Danny’s pants, his hands groping Danny’s ass, and Danny jerked back with a startled yelp.

“Shit, sorry!” Dash recoiled, immediately drawing back. “Sorry, that was too much. Sorry.”

“N-no, that’s…that’s okay!” Danny reassured him, reaching out to grab the edge of Dash’s letterman before he could get too far. “I just…oh man, I don’t think anyone’s ever grabbed me like that before.”

“S-sorry.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Danny objected. “But uh…maybe that’s a sign we should, uh. Stop. For now.” He shifted awkwardly on the desk, the bulge in his jeans obviously giving him some trouble.

“Y-yeah,” Dash breathed, his own pants feeling a bit tight. He bashfully looked away, suddenly feeling too shy to look at Danny directly. “We were, uh. Getting a bit carried away there, weren’t we?”

“Y-yeah…”

Dash couldn’t help but study Danny out of the corner of his eye. Danny looked absolutely wrecked, his hair a mess, his lips shiny and red. His face was the same colour as Tucker’s hat, and he had an obvious tent in his jeans. Dash was sure he didn’t look much better, to be fair. It was hot as hell seeing Danny all disheveled like this, but it was also painfully obvious what they’d been up to. Sam and Tucker would take one look at them and just know.

“Here, let’s…just finish what we started here,” Dash eventually suggested, turning to his first aid kit to dig through his supplies and give himself a chance to calm down. “Stitches, stitches, I need to do stitches.”

“It really wasn’t that bad,” Danny quietly insisted from behind him. “Look, it’s already mostly healed.”

Dash turned to look, and sure enough Danny was right. What had once been three long gashes across his stomach had become nothing more than a couple of thin scabs, the wounds already looking almost completely healed.

“Huh.” Dash tilted his head, studying Danny’s mostly unblemished skin. “I could have sworn those ones would need stitches.”

“I told you they weren’t that bad.”

Dash rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, I should have listened to you, Mr. I-tried-to-walk-off-a-broken-leg.”

Danny spluttered. “It was one time!”

Dash turned his attention back to actually doing his job and making sure Danny was okay. Thankfully the head wound had apparently been the worst injury Danny had sustained, and a quick check confirmed that it was already well on its way to scabbing over. Satisfied that there wasn’t much more that Dash could handle that Danny’s healing factor wouldn’t take care of on its own, Dash began cleaning up the room, gathering up the trash and closing up his kit.

“So…now what?” Danny asked as Dash tossed his kit back into his backpack and threw the strap over his shoulder.

“We should probably go see if Sam and Tucker need help in the office,” Dash suggested.

“No, I mean…with…us?” Danny explained, his voice growing quieter with each word. “What happens with us?”

“Well, did you like the kiss?” Dash asked with a smirk. “You never actually said.”

Danny’s tentative expression morphed into annoyance. “You know I did.”

Dash snorted. “Well, then. I guess the question is…do you want to do it again?”

“Yes,” Danny admitted, blushing. “Yeah, I would.”

“Then…how about we do that, then?” Dash suggested casually, despite the way his heart was beating rapidly in his chest. “You can kiss me whenever you want.”

“So like…just kissing? Or…”

With a frustrated sigh, Dash realized that for once, Danny was the one out of his depth and Dash was going to have to lead the way here. It wasn’t like Dash had ever dated a guy before, but between the two of them, he definitely had more relationship experience, so it made sense.

“Hey Danny, do you want to be my boyfriend?” Dash asked point-blank, foregoing beating around the bush.

Danny made a choked sound, caught off guard by Dash’s bluntness, but then he started nodding his head. “Y-yeah. I’d…like that.”

“Awesome,” Dash grinned, before swooping in and pressing a quick kiss to Danny’s cheek. When Danny squeaked in surprise, Dash laughed. “I’m a pretty affectionate boyfriend, you’re going to have to get used to that.”

“Oooooh boy,” Danny said shakily, his eyes wide.

Still chuckling, Dash snatched Danny’s shirt up and tossed it into his face. “Come on, man. Finished getting dressed, and then let’s go find the others before Sam finds us first and chews us out for leaving them with all the work.”

Chapter Text

The next day at school, Dash was standing at his locker chatting with Kwan and Paulina when he suddenly heard someone calling his name from down the hall. He turned and spotted Danny hurrying over, Tucker and Sam not far behind, and his face split into a wide grin. He waved, letting Danny know that he’d seen him.

To Dash’s pleasant surprise, as soon as Danny was close enough, he reached up and grabbed Dash’s cheeks, pulling him into a quick kiss.

“Morning,” Danny greeted him brightly.

“Hey, babe,” Dash said right back, unable to fight down a dopey grin as he heard the rest of their friends gasping loudly.

“Oh my god, did you guys finally figure it out?!” Tucker demanded, looking rapidly between Dash and Danny.

“Finally!” Sam said in exasperation, throwing her hands up in relief.

“It’s about damn time,” Paulina agreed with a smirk.

“Seriously?” Danny squawked, turning to look at them with a betrayed expression. “None of you are surprised at all?”

Kwan was the one to answer, the rest too busy laughing. “Sorry Danny, but you guys have been looking at each other like you want to eat each other for at least a month. We all figured it was just a matter of time.”

Huffing, Danny grumpily crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. “Well I’m glad you all had it figured out, at least. I thought I was going nuts!”

“We’re just really happy for you guys,” Tucker told him warmly, reaching out to squeeze Danny’s shoulder. “Honest.”

Danny’s face softened, and he gave Tucker a happy smile. “Thanks, man.”

The group chatted for a few more minutes before it was time to head to class. But as they started walking towards their first period, Dash’s phone suddenly started ringing. He looked down and saw the name flashing across the screen, and felt his face go pale.

“Uh, you guys go on ahead,” he forced out, his eyes locked on the phone in his hands. “I just need to take this.”

The rest of his friends all exchanged looks, before turning back to him in concern.

“Do you want one of us to wait with you?” Danny offered with a worried frown.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Dash reassured him, making eye contact with Kwan. He saw understanding flash across Kwan’s face. “I’ll catch up.”

“Come on, Danny, you’ve got enough tardy slips,” Kwan told Danny, gently nudging him back into motion. “Let’s not get another one today, okay?”

Danny hesitated another moment, but when Dash just gave him a tight smile, he eventually allowed himself to be led away. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you in class, Dash.”

“See you there,” Dash replied even as he hit the button to accept the call and brought the phone up to his ear. He saw Sam toss one last glance over her shoulder at him, and he nodded at her in acknowledgement. Then the group disappeared around the corner and Dash was alone with his phone call.

Taking in a deep fortifying breath, Dash forced himself to speak. “Hello?”

“...Dashie?”

He’d never heard his mom sound so subdued, her voice hoarse and quiet. If his phone hadn’t shown him exactly who was calling, he might not have recognized her at all. “...hey mom.”

“H-hey, sweetie. How…how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, leaning back against the lockers to get more comfortable. There was a pause where she waited for him to continue, but he refused to say more, and eventually she seemed to catch on.

“T-that’s…that’s good.” He heard her taking a few deep breaths of her own. “I’m sorry to call you now, I know you have class, but I…I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to work up the nerve again to —”

“What do you want, mom?” Dash cut her off, perhaps a bit more harshly than he’d meant to, but he did have class to get to.

“Right. Right, sorry. I just…I wanted to let you know that your father and I have been…have been talking.”

“Talking?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow.

She must have heard the sarcasm in his voice. “Yes. Actually talking, instead of just fighting. We…I know that we’ve…really screwed up. I know that our relationship isn’t perfect and that we…we haven’t been model parents. But Dash…Dashie, you’re still our son. We still love you so much. And we…and I want to try to understand.”

It was simultaneously everything Dash had ever wanted and not enough. He’d wanted to hear those words from her so badly, to hear them and know that she meant them. But now that he’d gotten out of their house, now that he’d had a chance to see what normal parents actually looked like while Kwan’s family had taken him in, he knew that he didn't want to go back to living in that home and pretending that everything was fine and perfect when it really wasn't.

Still, she was his mom. As awful as their relationship had become, she was the woman who had loved him and raised him for seventeen years, and that still stayed with him. He felt his eyes growing damp. “I love you too, mom.”

“I just…will you please…please come home?” she begged. “I promise I will listen. I will hear you out. I won’t say anything. I just want to understand what this all means.”

As she spoke, Dash was already shaking his head. “No,” he choked out, then gathered himself and tried again. “No, no, I’m not ready to come home yet.”

“Please, Dashie.”

“No,” he repeated more firmly.

“I….” There was a pause as she struggled to regain her composure, and he heard her sniff loudly. “Alright, honey. If…if that’s what you want. Can you…can you at least tell me…are you safe? Where you’re staying?”

“Yes, mom. I’m safe.”

“That’s — that’s good. That’s — I’m glad to hear it.” She sniffed again. “I just…I just want you to be happy and safe, honey. That’s…you’re my son. That’s all I want.”

Dash squeezed his eyes shut, a tear running down his cheek. He could hear how hard it was for her to accept his rejection, but he was so grateful that she wasn’t pressing the issue. He’d half expected her to snap at him the second he’d said the word no, but so far this conversation had been more awkward than painful.

Dash ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m not ready to come home yet, but I’d be open to just…talking. If that’s really what you want to do.”

“Of course, Dashie,” she agreed easily, sounding hurt that he’d thought otherwise. “Of course I want to talk to you. I’m…I’m upset that you ran away, but I’m more upset with myself. That I’ve screwed up enough that I made you feel unsafe in your own home. You are my son, Dash. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I lost sight of that. I’m so sorry. So sorry, Dash.”

Dash knew he was full-on crying now, but he did nothing more than swipe his hand across his jaw to wipe away the worst of the tears, uncaring of the way they flowed freely. “I just…the things you said…I’m going to need a lot of time, mom.”

“I…I understand,” she said sadly. “I’ve hurt you. Badly. I still don’t…get it. I still don’t understand how you can…like boys like that, but…Dash, please. Just let me try.”

“Have you talked to dad about it at all?” Dash asked her wetly. “You said you talked.”

He could hear the way her voice soured. “Yes, we did. Mostly about…getting a divorce, unfortunately. But…I’m realizing that the conversation was well overdue. I’m so sorry, Dashie.”

He wished he could say he was surprised, but she was right. This was a long time coming. It still didn’t stop his heart from aching. “I’m sorry, too, mom. That must have been rough.”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me, Dash, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” she insisted.

Feeling like he owed her at least a small overture of his own, Dash bit his lip. “I’m not ready to come home, but…I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to meet up somewhere. Maybe a restaurant? I-I’d probably bring a friend, just…I don’t think I’m ready for one-on-one, but…”

“That would be lovely, Dash. I’ll speak to your dad about it. You just let us know the time and place, and we’ll make it work.”

“Great. That…actually sounds kind of nice.”

There was a brief pause where Dash tried to get his hitched breathing under control while his mom did the same on the other end of the line, and then Dash pointedly cleared his throat. “Anyways. I really do need to get to class.”

“Of course Dash. Have a good day at school,” she told him, only sounding a little choked up.

“I will. And I’ll talk to you later?”

“Absolutely.”

“...love you, mom.”

“I love you too, Dash,” she said.

They finished their goodbyes, and Dash hit the button to end the call. He then had to tilt his head back and squeeze his eyes shut as he leaned heavily against the lockers and tried to get himself back under control.

By the time he made his way over to first period, he was at least ten minutes late and pretty much everyone was already in their classrooms. Still, Dash was surprised to see when he arrived at his room that Danny was still standing just outside waiting for him. He took in Dash’s puffy red eyes and damp cheeks and gave him a questioning look.

“I’ll fill you in later,” Dash told him.

“Are you okay, at least?” Danny asked, holding out his hand.

Dash took it gratefully, lacing their fingers together. “I will be.”

Danny’s expression softened, and he gave their joined hands a gentle tug, pulling Dash into the classroom. Dash followed, feeling like a weight was lifting off of his shoulders as he squeezed Danny’s hand and felt Danny squeeze back in return. Things weren’t perfect, not by a long shot, and Dash was sure there would be many more ups and downs in his future. But for now he had people who loved him and supported him, and he was finally on the road to becoming the best version of himself, hand in hand with his new boyfriend.

Outside, through the classroom windows, he spotted a robin land on the branch of one of the trees in the yard, its leaves just starting to open up, and he couldn't help but smile.

It looked like it was going to be a beautiful spring.