#she requested Phantom losing control while protecting Danny | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pitch-pearl-void · 4 years

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A pebble struck Danny's shoulder and he yelped, crashing into Tucker. The two exhausted boys collapsed on the track field. Several of their classmates ran around them, laughing and hurling insults as they passed. One leapt over them, nearly clocking Danny in the head with her foot.

Danny growled and snatched up the pebble, but before he could throw it back at his classmates, the pebble jerked out of his hand. Frustrated, he looked around for a new one, but movement drew his eyes back to the original pebble as it rolled across the bare earth of the track. Danny's eyes widened.

Tucker pushed Danny off his chest. "I know being clumsy is sort of your thing, but--"

"Tucker!" Danny scrambled to his knees, grabbed his friend's shoulder and pointed at the pebble. He didn't need to say anything else. The dim green glow surrounding the pebble said enough.

It was rolling toward the bleachers.

Danny struggled to his feet and chased after it without another word. Tucker followed, though he had plenty of words such as you know not every ghost is friendly like your boyfriend, right? and you know luring targets to a secondary location is kidnapping 101, right? and do we have to run?

Phantom (because of course it was Phantom; he would never allow another ghost to come within miles of the school) smiled up at Danny as soon as he rounded the bleachers. Phantom had tucked himself into the shadows instead of turning himself invisible, but his glow kept him from truly being obscured. If it hadn't been such a bright, sunny day, Danny would have spotted his glow far sooner--as would all the other kids.

The pebble leapt into Phantom's waiting palm, the green energy around both disappearing upon contact. "Sorry," Phantom said, his voice raspy, the word barely distinct. "Had to...get...your attention...somehow."

Bright green ectoplasm saturated the dirt around him.

Danny gasped, "Phantom!" and then banged his head against a metal footrest. He yelped. Tucker actually reached Phantom first, dropping to his hands and knees and crawling forward. Danny quickly followed his example.

"Skulker," Phantom croaked by way of explanation.

"Hey, man, maybe you shouldn't talk right now," Tucker said gently as he stopped beside Phantom's legs.

Danny ignored the ectoplasm on the ground--the cold tingle as his knees entered the puddle, the way it soaked into his gym shorts--and crawled up to Phantom's side. Dutifully and without needing to be asked, Phantom rolled off his elbow and onto his back, stretching out so Danny and Tucker could see the damage.

The most obvious and eye-catching was a slash along his side. Most of the ectoplasm was leaking from there, although Phantom's hand obscured most of the wound. Ectoplasm didn't bleed like blood--it was too thick and wasn't pumped through the body--so to create a puddle like the one Danny was crouched in, Phantom must have been waiting there a while.

Danny swallowed. Waiting for Tuck and me to finally reach the bleachers...

If they weren't such slow runners they would have completed the lap sooner, they would have reached the bleachers sooner, and Phantom wouldn't have needed to suffer as long.

Danny guiltily allowed his gaze to move upward, intent on looking Phantom in the eyes, but he stopped at Phantom's throat. It was shaped oddly. And discolored. Gently, slowly, he reached forward and lightly touched just below Phantom's jaw.

"He crushed your windpipe?" Danny asked in a whisper.

He lifted his eyes to find Phantom watching him. "It's...healing," Phantom rasped.

"Definitely don't want to talk, dude," Tucker said, sounding as stressed as Danny. "We'll get you patched up in no time."

Phantom pinched his eyes shut. "Please. Hurts."

Danny bit his lip. He lifted his hand to Phantom's face and gently brushed his white hair aside. Phantom didn't say anything more or open his eyes, but he turned his head, pressing into Danny's touch.

"Sorry we took so long," Danny said, his voice shaking.

"Yeah," Tucker said, equally guilt-ridden, "maybe you should have tried getting Sam's attention."

"Tried." Phantom's lips twitched. "Too fast. Missed."

Tucker forced a laugh. "Oh, I get it. You could only catch us slowpokes."

"Yes."

Danny turned to Tucker. "Go find Sam and tell her we need the ghost medkit. And get my backpack from my locker in the locker room--I stowed some of those pain blockers Frostbite gave us in there."

Tucker nodded. He grabbed Phantom's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "Hang in there, ghost-dude."

Phantom forced his eyes open and flashed Tucker a grin.

Tucker patted his hand before crawling out from beneath the bleachers and charging onto the track field. Danny watched him go through the gaps in the bleachers. They were close to the school doors and the finish line, which was likely where Sam was waiting for them, so fortunately Tucker didn't look too conspicuous running in a direction opposite to everyone else. He could probably claim he needed to use the bathroom.

Unfortunately, whether they had noticed Tucker leaving the bleachers or noticed Danny and him heading toward them earlier, Dash and several of his football teammates were looking and pointing in Danny's direction. He cringed and ducked down. They were still pretty far away (they had yet to cross the finish line) but given how fast Danny knew they could run, it was only a matter of time before they arrived to investigate.

"What?" Phantom croaked.

"Dash is looking this way." Danny glanced down at Phantom. For all that Phantom was staring up at him, it looked as though he was struggling to keep his eyes open. His gaze, usually so intense, particularly when staring at Danny, lacked the kind of focus Danny was used to. He ran his fingers through Phantom's hair. "It's probably nothing," he said, forcing a smile. "You can rest."

Phantom's eyes slipped closed without argument. "If he...hurts you...I'll kick his...butt."

"Uh-huh," Danny said doubtfully. "Maybe once you're better." He chewed on his lip, looking down at Phantom's wounds. "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" There wasn't much he could do without supplies...

Phantom leaned his head back, encouraging Danny to continue stroking his fingers through his hair.

Danny smiled. He brushed the white hair off Phantom's forehead and leaned down to kiss just below his hairline. As he sat back again, he saw Phantom smiling as well. Shadows passed in front of the bleachers, and Danny bit his lip.

Phantom forced his eyes open. "Danny?"

Danny stroked Phantom's hair until those green eyes closed once more. "We're about to get some extra help, that's all."

Phantom frowned. "Only one...I need."

"Yeah, well--"

"Hey, Fentina, what are you and the techno-geek hiding under--"

Dash's voice cut off in a gasp, echoed by several others. Danny pinched his eyes shut and cringed.

"Danny Phantom!"

"Holy shit, it's really him."

"What's all that green stuff?"

"Oh my god, is that ghost blood?"

A large hand grabbed Danny's shoulder and shoved him to the side, throwing him into the dirt. "Out of the way, Fen-Freak, we have to get him out of here!"

"No!" Danny scrambled onto his knees again and grabbed Dash's arm. "Ghosts need privacy when they're wounded, you can't--"

Dash used the arm Danny was holding to throw him backward. Other hands--Kwan's, he thought--caught him before he could fall into the dirt again. "Get him out of here!" Dash ordered.

Thrown off balance without his legs under him, Kwan easily dragged Danny away from Phantom. He fought, wiggling in Kwan's grasp, trying to free his arms. "I had it under control!" he shouted, frustrated. "You don't need to do this!"

"Yeah right," Kwan said sarcastically, "just let us handle this, Fenton. We've actually dealt with injuries before."

Danny watched, dismayed, as Dash scooped Phantom into his arms. The ghost was wincing in pain, teeth visibly gritted, but soon there were too many jocks between them to see what was happening.

Someone outside the bleachers shouted, "It's Phantom! He's hurt!" a call that was swiftly picked up by others.

Sunlight fell on Danny as they passed from beneath the bleachers. "He's not some football player," he objected to Kwan's previous comment, "he's a ghost. You don't--"

Kwan threw Danny onto the ground. He landed on his front, air woofing from his lungs and sending a puff of dirt to float in front of his face.

"He's a person," Kwan snapped before charging back under the bleachers.

Danny pushed himself onto his knees, coughed, and patted dirt from his gym shirt. "Gee," he muttered darkly to himself, "I hadn't noticed. I'm only dating him..."

He climbed to his feet and turned to face the bleachers. Some of the jocks were pouring out again, and a moment later, Dash carried Phantom out into the sunlight. Phantom was still grimacing, one eye tightly pinched shut, but the remaining eye searched the surrounding humans. When it finally landed on Danny, Phantom's eyes and forehead visibly relaxed, though his jaw remained clenched.

Danny ran forward. Another jock, Brad, stopped him before he could reach Phantom and shoved him back. "Back off!" he shouted.

Danny stumbled backward, tripped over his heel, and fell to the ground again. Phantom opened his mouth--he seemed to be saying something, but either no one heard his butchered voice over the noise they were making or they ignored whatever he was saying.

Danny stood up, but the crowd grew between them, bolstered by those that were leaving the track. Soon it was no longer only Dash and his football friends crowding around Phantom but half their class. Worse, Dash's friends were building a wall around Phantom, forcing the crowd to move back as Dash carried Phantom forward.

Danny, the resident loser on the field, quickly found himself shoved farther and farther away from Phantom.

"Is he okay?"

"What happened?"

"Is he bleeding?"

"Oh my god, oh my god, what do we do?"

"Phantom!"

"Put me down!"

Danny sucked in a breath. For all that the voice sounded like it had been scraped by rocks, it was unmistakably Phantom's. "He shouldn't be yelling," Danny muttered anxiously to himself. "Oh hell, he shouldn't yell..."

Whether he was fit enough to raise his voice, however, Phantom had succeeded in halting the crowd. Danny jumped a few times, trying to see over his classmates. The crowd wasn't moving anymore, so Dash must have stopped. Danny thought he saw Dash kneeling on the ground--obeying Phantom's wishes--but it was difficult to tell with so many people between them.

Danny gritted his teeth. "Right," he muttered. "Time to get obnoxious, Fenton. Make them listen." He raised his voice and shouted, "Excuse me, I actually know how ghosts work!" He began shoving between his classmates, forcing his way through. "I can help him!" He squeezed between Mikey and a cheerleader and then around Kevin. "This isn't how you help ghosts!"

Brad grabbed Danny's arm before he could go farther, halting him at the jock wall. Danny leaned to the side and peered through the gap between Brad and Russel. Phantom had been set on the ground and Dash and Kwan were pressing what looked like someone's gym shirt against the wound, trying to stem bleeding that would have been little more than a trickle if they had only left Phantom under the bleachers instead of making a spectacle of him.

Paulina knelt by Phantom and was pulling his head and shoulders onto her lap, tears overflowing her eyes. Danny would never have dared, given Phantom's injured throat, but Phantom seemed oblivious to the angle Paulina was forcing on him just as he was oblivious to the boys pressing on his wound. Instead, Phantom had both hands clasped over his ears.

His grimace revealed sharpened canines.

Danny sucked in a breath. Phantom often complained human emotions were too "loud" when they got upset. Danny didn't fully understand, but he would be willing to bet a group of exhausted teenagers worrying over their fallen hero counted as more than a little "loud". What kind of mental state that would push Phantom into when he was already weak and injured...

"Dash!" Danny shouted. Dash ignored him. "Dash!"

Dash's head shot up and he glared at Danny.

"You have to get everyone away from him!" Danny shouted, undaunted as Brad squeezed his arm in warning. "With his wound and everyone around him like this, you're going to throw him into an instinctive state. He's--"

"Did your parents teach you that, Fenton?"

Danny froze. That didn't sound like the usual belittling tone Dash used on him. Dash actually sounded angry.

"How do we know your parents weren't the ones who did this to him?" Kwan added.

"Wha--" Danny's word cut off in a hiss as Brad's grip turned suddenly, painfully tight.

The crowd, perhaps sensing the accusation, grew quieter. One by one, faces turned toward Danny.

Dash leapt to his feet. Ectoplasm stained his fingers green. "Is that what happened, Fen-Freak?" He advanced toward Danny. Danny tried to step back, but where before Brad's hand had kept him from moving forward, now it stopped him from going anywhere. "Is that why you're the one that found him? Your parents tipped you off so you could collect their specimen?"

"No!" the word burst out of Danny's mouth with such force he actually recoiled.

Unfortunately, Dash didn't listen and the crowd was beginning to mutter their own accusations. Danny only heard a few, most of which were directed at his parents for attacking Phantom on a near daily basis, but with Danny's parents nowhere in sight and adults besides, his classmates had set their sights on a more easily accessible target.

Him.

Danny tried and failed to take another step back. "Wait! That's not fair, I never--"

"He's friends with that mayor who hates Phantom too!" someone shouted.

"I am not!" Danny objected, offended. He looked around, alarmed to see so many glaring at him, but he squared his shoulders. "Look," he said, "yeah, my parents are ghost hunters, but that just means I actually know what I'm talking about. More so than any of you. And I'm telling you, you all need to--"

A fist struck his cheek, the blow strong enough to wrench his head to the side. Danny cried out and would have fallen to the ground if Brad hadn't been holding onto his arm. As it was, Danny's legs gave out and his arm was wrenched painfully upward as he fell to his knees.

A second later, his arm was released.

Danny would have thought Brad intentionally let him go if someone hadn't screamed, had Paulina not shouted Phantom's name, had Dash not cried out in fear.

Danny pressed a hand to his throbbing eye and scrambled to his feet. His classmates had thrown themselves apart before him, creating a clear path back to the bleachers. Why became clear as Danny's good eye fell on Phantom. For all that green glowing ectoplasm continued to flow from his wound, Phantom had grabbed Dash by his gym shirt and was pinning him to the bleachers. Several yards above ground.

As Danny watched, shocked, Phantom pulled Dash toward himself and then slammed him against the bleachers again. "What did you do?" he roared, his voice deeper, the echo more resonant, distorting the words.

A cold wind blew across the grass, pulling at Danny's shirt.

"Wh-wh-what?" Dash stuttered.

"You hurt him!"

"No! I mean--it's--he's--"

"I heard his pain!" Even several yards away, Danny heard and felt the air vibrate as Phantom growled. The hair on his arms and neck stood on end. Something like a green aura flashed around Phantom. Several of his classmates backed away. "What. Did. You. Do."

Danny ran forward. Someone grabbed his arm, but he shook himself free. "Phantom!" he shouted up at the ghost as he neared. "Phantom, I'm fine!"

Phantom didn't move, but he stopped shouting. He was too high up for Danny to reach. He ran around to the front of the bleachers and began running up the stairs instead.

"It was just a misunderstanding!" he continued. "Right Dash?"

"Uhhhhhh?!" Dash screamed uncertainly back at him.

"Say yes, you idiot!"

"Danny?" Phantom said, his deep voice sounding suddenly lost.

Danny finally reached the highest seat and looked over the side. As if sensing him there, Phantom tilted his head back and looked up at him. His eyes glowed a brilliant green, the whites of his scalera, his pupils, swallowed up in the bright shining light.

Danny forced a shaky smile on his lips, fear for Phantom warring with a wholly inappropriate admiration. "Hey," he said softly. "See? I'm fine."

Phantom floated higher, carrying Dash with him. The jock whimpered in fear and clung to Phantom's forearms. "Are you?" Phantom questioned.

He released Dash's shirt so only one hand was holding him in the air and reached for Danny's face. Dash squawked in fear--he did not let go of Phantom's moving forearm, however. Phantom's fingers pushed beneath the hand Danny had clasped over his eye, forcing him to remove it. Danny didn't know the damage Dash had caused, but he guessed from the throbbing in his cheek and eye, he would have a black eye in a matter of minutes.

Phantom's hand glowed with blue energy, his fingers turning ice cold. Danny sighed and leaned into the touch.

"You're hurt," Phantom said, almost like a reproach.

Danny snorted. "Like you're one to talk." He laid his hand over Phantom's. "It was just a misunderstanding. I'm safe. You don't have to fight anyone."

Phantom's brow furrowed slightly. "But they were so angry. And afraid. You were afraid."

Danny looked past Phantom at the crowd of students gaping up at them and then back at Phantom. "What about now?"

"Worried. Afraid." Phantom's nose wrinkled. "Mostly."

Danny grinned cheekily. "Aww, is your power display turning some of them on?"

"Turning you on more," Phantom muttered, his cheeks gaining a green blush.

Danny cleared his throat. "They're worried for you because you're in no shape to be flying around like this. Get over here and sit down already."

Phantom hesitated. He looked down at Dash. Another growl rumbled in his chest, and this time Danny was close enough to feel the vibration in the air. "He hurt you."

"He's sorry, though, right, Dash?"

Dash nodded furiously.

"He won't do it ever again, right, Dash?"

"No!"

"Not even when I call him a major fucking asshole for not listening to me, right, Dash?"

"Fenton!" Dash cried. "Yes! Fine! You were right!"

Phantom sighed. "I don't feel so good..."

Danny wrapped his fingers around Phantom's wrist and backed away from the bleacher's edge. To maintain contact with him, Phantom dutifully followed him onto the bleachers, turning himself and Dash intangible so they could float through the bars. As soon as Dash's--solid--feet touched the bleachers, they gave out and he collapsed onto a seat. Phantom let go of his shirt and kept floating toward Danny until he landed against his chest.

All at once, Phantom's flight, the green aura, the cold wind, the solid green glow in his eyes winked out. He closed his eyes and fell into Danny's arms, his hand falling from Danny's face. His weight drove Danny to collapse on a bleacher seat himself. He grunted.

He half expected Dash to run to safety but Dash was at his side in a moment, fretting. "Shit, shit," he swore. "Is he okay? What the hell was that all about, Fenton?!"

Danny sighed, Phantom's white hair dancing in front of his mouth. "Hey, Dash, the next time I tell you you're forcing an injured ghost into an instinctual state, maybe you should listen, yeah?"

"Uh..."

Danny sighed again. "Never mind. Just help me--we need to lay him down. He passed out."

"Ghosts do that?"

"When they use too much energy. He...I don't know, he might have drawn some from his core."

Danny looked up as Dash helped spread Phantom out over a bleacher seat. Tucker and Sam were running toward them, the bag with the first aid kit held above Sam's head as she waved her arm. He wanted to sigh in relief, but the crowd--no longer entertained from the side of the bleachers--was making its way to the front. Paulina was already climbing the stairs.

"Fuck," Danny groaned.

"You said he needs privacy before?" Dash asked.

"Um. Yeah. Except for Sam and Tucker--they're bringing the medical supplies that actually work on ghosts."

Dash puffed out his chest. "Right then!" He pounded down the steps of the bleachers, shaking the metal seats. "Back off!" he shouted. "Ghosts need privacy when they're injured, you idiots!"

Danny bit his lip and looked down at Phantom. If Phantom hadn't defended him as he had, if he hadn't reacted to Danny's pain so quickly, Danny would probably have been beaten by the football team--perhaps even his whole gym class. They certainly had no problem doing so when he had filled in for the mascot and they lost their homecoming game during freshman year.

Still...once the crisis of Phantom's injuries passed...how many of them were going to remember Danny had calmed him down? How many would recognize what had happened as something more than just a hero protecting someone? How many would recognize a ghost defending his mate?

Note to self, he thought, brushing his fingers through Phantom's hair, don't underestimate Phantom's protective instincts.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Pitch Pearl #pitchpearl #birthday present for a friend on the discord server #she requested Phantom losing control while protecting Danny #(I actually finished this a month ago but put off posting it until now lol)

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ladylynse · 4 years

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Part 8 [FF | AO3] of Whirlwind: Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny should’ve expected something like this when he got that phone call. (Secret Quartet crossover)

(previous | timeline post)

-|-

7:12 PM

Blood magic.

He hadn’t counted on being lucky enough to find someone with blood magic.

Fortunately, Gabriel didn’t need to recall his akuma to glean information from his champion. He still had all she had given him before she had shut him out. Whether she realized it or not, he had more than enough to discern her identity. He knew exactly what she’d been feeling. He knew precisely why she’d been feeling that way. And that meant that finding her name was as simple as having Nathalie check their records.

“The head caterer is Susan Long,” Nathalie reported at last. “She owns the company. I’m sending you all the information we have on her, but I’m afraid it’s very little.”

That was an understatement; the information was next to nothing. Even her business address was unlisted. Nathalie had told him of her reputation as a caterer, told him that she was in high demand and had handled large, premiere events before. Her food was always impeccable, and she came highly recommended. Still, while he could appreciate that a certain amount of secrecy was necessary in business, particularly where sensitive information was at hand, that didn’t mean he didn’t find this frustrating.

Given what he knew now, however, he didn’t find it unusual.

“Find out more,” Gabriel growled into his headset. “Pull every string you can. I don’t care what it costs in promises or favours.”

“Of course, sir.”

Gabriel knew perfectly well that he was taking Nathalie from other work, and he knew that the excuses she’d given regarding his current preoccupation wouldn’t be enough for long—this was his show, and he was expected to have input on what to do now that it had been ruined—but he wasn’t willing to lose this when it was within his grasp. The meetings to discuss the damage that had been done and setting the contingency plans in motion and even something as simple as crowd control— They didn’t need him for all of that. If they wouldn’t settle for his final word, they could be content with his input at the end, once they’d hashed out all the needless details that had mostly been written out before he’d stepped foot on this side of the ocean anyway. Really, Nathalie could make it so that it didn’t matter when he put in his appearance providing he did put one in. They would easily believe he had important work that demanded privacy, given how much money he’d had to sink into this venture.

It was going to pay off, though. Even if he couldn’t find another Miraculous, he could find power. This wasn’t something he’d trust to Audrey Bourgeois. He’d very pointedly not involved her in any of this and had planned for this trip to neatly coincide with a time when he knew she was elsewhere. She was too prone to go digging for secrets for his taste, especially when she thought she could benefit from the result. The last thing he needed was for her to discover how much power he already had, let alone that he had reason to suspect there was more to be found here.

“Master,” Nooroo said as Gabriel strode back to look out the window of his private suite, “we shouldn’t pursue this.”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion.”

“I’m sorry, Master, but I—”

“Be quiet, Nooroo.”

Gabriel didn’t want to hear Nooroo’s fears again. Vague, dire warnings meant nothing. He was willing to take risks for concrete rewards, to further his ultimate goal. This was why they had come. He needed something to tip the scales in his favour. Something Ladybug and Chat Noir would never expect and wouldn’t be able to counter.

Chat Noir’s appearance here would be much more unsettling if he thought for a moment the heroes actually suspected his identity, but he was certain it was nothing but unlucky coincidence.

Well, perhaps more unlucky for Chat Noir than for him.

He’d been trying to separate Ladybug and Chat Noir for ages. He was hardly blind to the opportunity of defeating Chat Noir now, in a foreign city where he didn’t have the support of the people or his knowledge of the Parisian streets to help him out. Where his only ally was some self-proclaimed ninja from another town as opposed to Ladybug, who knew how he fought and worked altogether too well with him. Success was a tantalizingly real possibility. If he could return to Paris with the Miraculous of the Black Cat….

He still needed the other information he’d requested, and Dracona couldn’t avoid giving it to him forever. But even if she might claim that she couldn’t provide any information about the phantom or the ninja because they didn’t call New York City home any more than Chat Noir did, she had agreed to tell him about those who did.

Even if she didn’t consider herself a hero, it was highly unlikely that she didn’t know any personally. She had magic. He knew how rare that was. And magic that she was born with? Magic that didn’t need to be stolen or harnessed?

She would be able to tell him so much, once he knew enough to nudge her past the point of silence.

Once their connection was re-established and he could talk to her again, if not control her.

If Nooroo’s magic didn’t pose enough of a threat to make her fear him, he could find more mundane ways to turn her to him.

He knew she had a son. Whatever she had felt in the moment that he had been able to akumatize her, he was sure she would still love him, care for him, even with those emotions amplified. She wouldn’t have been so upset if she didn’t. At the very least, the mix of emotions which had been at the forefront would have been different.

And if he could use her family against her, well, perhaps that would be enough to spark her memory. To remind her of whoever truly did seek to protect this city. And if it didn’t, well, he could experiment with harnessing blood magic as easily as he could search for a magical artefact to use in the fight against Ladybug and Chat Noir. As long as his akuma remained in her necklace, he’d still have ties to her, even if he couldn’t make her dance on command.

He could make sure anything was enough.

-|-

7:12 PM

“I don’t know what to do, Plagg,” Adrien admitted once they were back in his hotel room. Getting in hadn’t been as tricky as he’d expected; Nathalie was preoccupied, no doubt in conversation with his father and their contacts over the mess of the launch, and the Gorilla was busy listening to whatever the police were telling the security services. With the way things were going, he’d be lucky if he saw his father even once during the remainder of their trip. The bulk of the organizing might fall on Nathalie’s shoulders, but the ultimate decision-making still rested with Gabriel, and—

One thing at a time. The akuma was more pressing; until Adrien dealt with that, planning for anything else was irrelevant.

Plagg was currently trying to gorge himself on camembert. The concierge had procured an impressive supply to be sent to his room, and Adrien would have to leave him a large tip when he next saw him. As it was, Adrien was talking to Plagg as much out of a desire for advice as a need to slow the kwami down long enough for Adrien to pocket the rest of the cheese before it was completely devoured. “Should I trust these guys?”

Plagg swallowed and zipped over to the last wedge of cheese Adrien had left for him. He picked it up, but before he ate it, he looked at Adrien and asked, “Are you ready to fight Hawk Moth on your own?”

No. He wasn’t. Plagg knew that.

“Maybe I should call Ladybug. Maybe she knows of some way—”

“She doesn’t,” Plagg interrupted, “and even if she did, she’s asleep. If Hawk Moth’s here, no one’s getting akumatized in Paris.”

“Right.” Adrien glanced at the clock on the bedside table; it was past one in the morning in Paris right now. “But these guys…. I don’t know if I can do this. I mean…. It’s not that I didn’t think ghosts might be real or that a different magic than yours could exist. It’s more….” It was more that he couldn’t forget the feeling of falling. The terror that had flooded into him when he had realized he didn’t even have his staff to try to slow himself down. He’d been flung away numerous times in his fights with Ladybug, but this was different. She wasn’t here to watch his back. He couldn’t fight his way back to watch hers.

And there was no distant assurance that if something terrible did happen, something Plagg’s magic couldn’t prevent, Ladybug would be able to restore everything to the way it had been.

“It’s scary,” Plagg said frankly, “but it’s not the first time you’ve been scared.”

No, it wasn’t. But he was usually more terrified of losing Ladybug than he was of anything that might happen to him.

“I never expected that Hawk Moth would be here,” continued Plagg. “No one would. And the fact that you’re here at the same time is lucky. You know how he works and what he wants. You know—”

“He can’t have known that I’d be here,” Adrien interrupted, “which means that what he wants isn’t just my Miraculous. So is…is there a lost Miraculous or something? One that might be here?”

Plagg didn’t answer right away. “There is,” he finally said, “but it’s more likely that Hawk Moth is after something else. Finding a lost Miraculous would be a nearly impossible task, even for someone like Hawk Moth. Like I said before, there’s other magic at work here, and that shop we were in earlier was steeped in it. Rumours of that would be more substantial than anything about the Miraculous.”

“The dragons. You think he wants something they guard?” Adrien didn’t wait for Plagg to answer. “Then I can’t not work with them. I can’t risk Hawk Moth stealing and using something of theirs that I won’t know anything about—that you might not know anything about.” And Phantom had grabbed him after he’d glimpsed the first dragon, so his claim that he was friends with one was more likely truth than a lie. “I need them as much as they need me.”

“So call them. You don’t have to trust them with everything right away.”

That was true enough. Even if he did decide to trust them fully in the end, if only to make things easier, he certainly didn’t have to be the first one to spill all his secrets. Not that there was much they didn’t already know about him, assuming Phantom had talked to the others.

He definitely didn’t need to let them know where he was staying, though. He’d call them once he was back out, meet them somewhere that wasn’t quite the opposite direction of his actual hotel. He didn’t want to head too far away—he didn’t know when the dragon would return—but he didn’t want to pick a spot that would be too crowded if this was somehow a setup and he had to fight.

Then again, he might not have to pick the spot at all. “Plagg,” he whispered, “do you think you’d be able to find them? The dragon from the shop, at least?”

“Can I have more camembert first?”

“Once this is over. I promise.”

Plagg let out a long-suffering sigh but agreed. Adrien didn’t question his luck at the lack of wheedling, instead pulling his hood back up and waiting as Plagg zipped in to hide again. The first step was sneaking back out past Nathalie and the Gorilla. If they caught him and insisted he stay in his hotel room, sneaking out wouldn’t be the difficult part; it would be coming up with some reason that he wasn’t there when someone inevitably checked up on him.

But that would only be a problem if he got caught, and Adrien didn’t intend to get caught.

He cracked his door, listening as much as looking to make sure the coast was clear, and then he slipped into the hallway and headed for the stairwell, quiet as a cat.

-|-

7:16 PM

Rotwood ducked into another alley and ground his teeth. Insolent children! They should not treat him this way. He was their professor. And it wasn’t like he hunted Jake Long at every opportunity. Really, this time, it wouldn’t even be him. He would not be so foolish as to be caught on camera. (Rotwood knew this all too well; he had tried many, many times.) Would it really be so bad if Jake let him have this one moment? This one little tiny moment where he could shine?

Rotwood had already tried offering his expertise on the situation. Called up the local news station the moment he heard. He was still laughed off before he could even make it to the air. It wasn’t his fault Jake had given him a reputation that made it seem like he cried wolf when he didn’t.

How much of a laughingstock had he become that no one listened to him even when the magical creatures he had previously told them about turned up?

It was like no one was taking this seriously. No one except for those who already knew, of course. Why was there all this speculation that the dragon wasn’t real? Of course the dragon was real! Dragons were real! Just like ghosts! And a whole slew of other magical creatures most people hadn’t even imagined, let alone had the chance to meet.

Rotwood waited, hoping to hear the telltale shhhck of skateboard wheels on pavement.

It did not come.

How was he supposed to get closer to his goal—on foot, since some hooligans had let the air out of his tires, including his bicycle tires—when he couldn’t even shake a pair of high schoolers? It would be different if the traffic weren’t generally atrocious and the cab drivers, for some reason, didn’t remember him as ‘that crazy man from TV’. He did not deserve that reputation. Sure, he had made a few mistakes, everyone made mistakes, and maybe he had released some creatures he shouldn’t have in his quest to prove their existence, but it wasn’t like he was trying do that this time.

Really, Jake should thank him. He wasn’t meddling. He wasn’t meddling at all. He was merely trying to document. Would it not be better if someone like him did that, rather than someone Jake didn’t know at all? Certainly better him than someone like Brock, no?

He had tried yelling such arguments at Trixie and Spud, but they of course didn’t listen to a word he said.

He would have been much happier, however, if Trixie had not had a water gun with her. Or if Spud did not manage to play the most incessant earworms at full volume whenever he pulled out his phone to try to call anyone. Or—

“Yo, Rotwood, you ready to give up yet?”

It was, unfortunately, rather unprofessional to murder one’s students. He’d have to lose them. If he kept trying, he’d manage it eventually. He had to.

“Me and Spud, we can do this all night if we have to. But if you give up and go home now, your feet might not even hurt in the morning.”

The stitch in his side hadn’t had nearly enough time to go away, but there was nothing for it. He’d have to run again and hope that, this time, he was able to reach the edge of the crowd. They wouldn’t be able to use their skateboards in a crowd.

Of course, since they were on skateboards, it was increasingly unlikely that he’d make it to the crowd.

“Do we really have to go now?” a man’s voice whined, and Rotwood’s heart leapt when he realized how close it was. A distraction! He could use a distraction.

“Honey, there might not have been an official announcement yet, but the show won’t go on tonight, and I do intend to eat supper,” a woman answered. “It has been rather stressful. A three-course meal—”

The man groaned, and Rotwood moved before they got farther away. He jumped out from his hiding spot behind a dumpster and managed to get past Trixie and Spud, both of whom had quieted their own search while waiting for the couple to pass. They didn’t want witnesses. They didn’t want to explain themselves. Good. He would put himself in a position where they would have to do both if they continued to chase him.

“Excuse me!” he called out, waiving. They’d just passed the alleyway, and they kept walking. The nerve! He expected as much from New Yorkers, who didn’t even blink at things that should catch their attention, but tourists were supposed to be curious. “Yes, hello, behind you!”

They slowed, each of them glancing over their shoulders, but neither stopped.

Rotwood kept waving like a madman. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know he’d see two scowling teenagers. “Could you possibly give me some directions?”

“Oh, we don’t know the area,” the woman said with another quick glance back as she tightened her grip on the man’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”

“But you are dressed for that fashion show gala tonight, no?” He tried to remember the information that had been on the news. “The spring release?” What was the name? “Gabriel’s?”

The couple finally stopped, turning to him as he jogged up. The woman was looking at him with narrowed eyes. The man just looked exhausted.

Rotwood figured his best bet was to keep talking. “I heard what happened. Terrible. These magical creatures—” He broke off, remembering too late that telling the truth wouldn’t win him any favours. “They made a good show, those magical creatures?”

He hadn’t managed to keep the note of desperation out of his voice, but the man at least was looking him over with a more critical eye. “Marci,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet, “why don’t you go on and have dinner without me?”

For the first time, Rotwood noticed the man’s mechanical arm, and he had to make a conscious effort not to stare. He was well acquainted with those with prosthetic limbs, especially in his line of business which really wasn’t the safest, were you to actually find the magical creatures you were searching for, but most did not include features which looked disturbingly like brains. He pointedly raised his eyes to wait for Marci’s reaction. She kept a smile pasted on her face, but its edges were sharper than they should be.

“This isn’t a working vacation,” she said. “We should take our meals together.”

That didn’t stop the man from pressing several hundred-dollar bills into her hand. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, but this man needs help, and I do know the way.”

“No such thing as a free lunch, don’tcha know?” Marci murmured, but she tucked the money into her handbag. “You’ll answer your phone when I call.”

Even Rotwood knew that wasn’t a question.

“Of course, sugar plum,” the man cooed. “You can go and have a nice meal, and I’ll help, uh—”

“Professor Hans Rotwood.”

“—I’ll help Hans here.”

Rotwood knew pleading when he saw it. That was definitely pleading. If Marci said no, the man—presumably her husband—would acquiesce to her wishes. He could not afford for that to happen. Once they left, Ms. Carter and Mr. Spudinski would jump at the opportunity to overwhelm him, most likely quite literally, and he was still sore from his excursions last week trying to get a clear shot of a leprechaun. He didn’t need the added pain of hitting asphalt under the force of two teenaged bodies.

“That really would be most appreciated,” Rotwood added, not sure what he needed to say to sway Marci. “If there’s anything I could do in return….” He trailed off, unable to think of anything to offer someone who could so clearly not only afford to attend such a prestigious event but also to spend so much money on a single meal.

“We can talk about that,” the man said hurriedly.

The woman took a step closer to her husband, half turning away from Rotwood, and hissed words he heard but didn’t understand: “You know the Ninja we saw here can’t be the same one as back home.”

“He might have information,” the man answered in a too-loud whisper. “Please, you know how important this is.”

Marci sighed and stepped back. “Of course I do. If you’re so insistent that your work is more important than I am—”

“It’s not. This is just…. It’s…. You know what it is!”

Rotwood was convinced the argument was lost then and there, but Marci’s face softened and she leaned down to give her husband a quick kiss. “Yes, I do, so if you must do some work, then run along and do it quickly. You are not spoiling this for me.”

Rotwood was still trying to figure out how the man could have possibly gotten his way while the couple said their goodbyes, and it was a moment before he realized the man was staring at him. “Ah, my apologies,” he said. “You were saying?”

“Hannibal McFist,” the man said, offering his hand. As Rotwood shook it, McFist continued, “You said you’re a professor. You don’t have any colleagues at MSU, by any chance? Or attended it for one degree or another?”

MSU? Michigan State University? Rotwood hadn’t pegged McFist’s accent as being from that part of the country, and it certainly hadn’t been his wife’s, though in truth, he really wasn’t that good with accents, especially American ones. “No, my position is, ah, merely at a high school level these days, and my alma mater is in the old country.”

McFist grunted. “Had to ask. You look like the type who’d have been friends with Viceroy. If you didn’t annoy each other to death first.”

Rotwood didn’t ask. The important thing was that McFist was walking with him past the alley containing two teenagers who couldn’t stop him without making fools of themselves and giving away the game. He kept up the conversation instead, trying to get what information he could out of McFist without making it clear what he dearly wanted to know, as that would be the fastest way to find himself abandoned and once again at the mercy of merciless teenagers.

-|-

7:19 PM

Randy was pretty sure Jake was going to drive himself crazy. Or maybe that was just his sister doing it. She seemed nice enough, for a little kid, but she also made him happy that he was an only child. He was pretty sure her supposedly innocent needling was totally intentional.

Judging by Jake’s expression, he figured the same.

“Haley, I told you what’s going on,” Jake said, not attempting to keep the exasperation from his voice. “You know how bad this is, so just…stop. Please.”

Haley’s face transformed into what Randy was sure was a practiced pout. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Yo, stressing me out by pointing out all my failures isn’t helping.”

“Look,” Randy said slowly, figuring he should say something but speaking before he’d entirely decided what that should be, “when I was fighting the dragon, she wasn’t, um, trying to barbecue me. That’s probably a point in her favour. The Critic lady from earlier pulled a lot of shoob moves. She didn’t care if she fought dirty. If Chat Noir and I hadn’t had each other’s backs, she’d have wonked our cheese. But the dragon…. Danny said he thought she was testing me. Teasing out my attacks and strengths and stuff.”

“So?” Haley prompted.

Randy frowned at her. “So that’s more than what the other lady was doing when she got butterflied. She went straight to attack mode.”

“Yeah, but Mom’s had all the training, even if being a dragon skipped her generation,” Haley said. “She knows how to fight. She’s not going to throw strategy out the window, and learning what you can do before fighting you is smart.”

All the training…. No wonder she’d been so good at flying right off the bat. Randy had just assumed it was magic. Maybe it still was, but magic plus lessons made sense.

“So none of that’s from this Hawk Moth person,” Haley continued. “That’s just Mom. I mean, Jake’s not the best example of what we dragons can do, but he should have been able to give you some idea.”

Randy was really getting a good idea of why Jake had told him that Haley was a know-it-all.

“Oh, c’mon, you know I just met this guy tonight,” Jake interjected, gesturing at Randy.

“Yeah, him and this Chat Noir, only you messed that up, too, didn’t you?”

“Haley!”

“Why didn’t you ask me for help earlier?”

“Because you do stuff like this!” snapped Jake. “We both know you’re not perfect, and you’re not better than me at everything, so stop pretending you wouldn’t have made mistakes, too, if you were in my shoes.”

“But you knew this was going to be bad. Sara told you, and Kara said you’d have help.”

“She said from my friends, not my little sister.”

“Being friends doesn’t have to exclude me!”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Yo, you think I—?”

“Hope I’m not interrupting a vital family argument,” a voice said from behind them all.

Randy wasn’t the only one who jumped and spun in a circle before remembering to look up. The voice had come from behind and up. Sure enough, Chat Noir was perched on a pole that jutted out about five feet above their heads from the side of a building and into an alleyway. Randy squinted. That was the staff Chat Noir had fought with earlier. It could do that?

“How did you find us?” Jake asked, and Randy didn’t need to know him well to hear the panic in his voice. “I thought you were gonna call!”

Chat Noir dropped lightly to his feet, one hand reaching out to catch the staff as it fell. He didn’t even need to look at it to catch it, collapse it, and slide it in place on his back. Magic. It must be. Or a lot of practice.

“I have a friend with a good sense of smell,” he said.

“My smoke bombs do not stink that badly,” Randy insisted, forgetting for the moment that he wasn’t currently wearing his suit.

Chat Noir blinked. “Ninja?”

“Randy.” He pointed at the dragon siblings and said, “That’s Jake and Haley.” Jake shot Randy a glare but didn’t say anything, instead tapping his Fenton Phone and letting Danny know that Chat Noir had found them. Ignoring him, Randy continued, “Their mom’s the one who’s been butterflied.”

“Akumatized,” Chat Noir corrected. “And I know. I mean. I guessed. From what Phantom told me and, um….” He trailed off and must have abandoned that thought entirely, since he instead asked, “Where’s the akuma hiding?”

“Her necklace,” Randy said, happy enough to roll with the subject change because it was a pretty important subject change. Even with different names, what was happening to people didn’t seem terribly different than what he was used to dealing with. He knew it wasn’t the same, but the idea of it was similar enough to stanking that it made whatever Chat Noir must do on a regular basis easy for Randy to follow. “It’s still on her, even when she’s a dragon. It just…adjusted with her, I guess? It doesn’t look like she’s being strangled by it.”

Chat Noir was nodding. “Hawk Moth can cause pain to those who disobey him, but he wouldn’t hinder their transformation.”

“What about the person being transformed?” Haley asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Can they do something?”

“We’ve only ever seen Hawk Moth change people who agree to it,” Chat Noir said. Randy almost asked who we was and then remembered that the Critic had taunted him about not having his partner around. “And the transformation…. It’s not something they negotiate. That’s all Hawk Moth’s domain.”

Haley glanced back at Jake, who was still talking to Danny. “But…. My mom’s different.”

“She really…probably…is,” Randy offered. “Me, I just use something that’s magic. Maybe you do, too. These guys are…different.”

“I know,” Chat Noir said quietly as Jake rejoined their circle. “That’s…. That’s why I’m worried. Hawk Moth can’t have known I’d be here. He wants my Miraculous, but that’s not why he’s active. He’s looking for something. Maybe another Miraculous that was lost, maybe something else.”

Jake frowned. “Aren’t there only, like, seven of those?”

Chat Noir didn’t confirm that, and Randy wasn’t great at reading faces, but he was pretty sure that was a no. And that Chat Noir didn’t particularly appreciate Jake’s comment. Maybe he thought Jake was pretending to be an authority on the subject of these Miraculous things? Randy might not know much, but he knew Jake definitely wasn’t.

Or maybe it was just that these guys hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, and that was something Randy could smooth over. “Point is, their mom getting akuma matated or whatever you said is bad, and we could really use your help to fix things.” He bit his lip, already feeling that Chat Noir wouldn’t appreciate his next suggestion, and added, “Even if you don’t wanna tell us your real name, you might wanna lose the suit. Just so we can, y’know, blend in with the crowd when we search. It’s not like we’d tell anyone your identity when we’re all trying to keep the same secret.”

“And I already know what you look like without your mask,” Jake added.

“So does your Phantom friend,” muttered Chat Noir, not quietly enough that he didn’t intend for them to hear it.

“That’s Danny,” Randy said. “He also gets the secret identity thing.”

Chat Noir frowned. “He’s a ghost.”

Randy shrugged. “Only some of the time.”

Haley spun to her brother. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she hissed, and he shushed her. Unsuccessfully. They started arguing again. Randy tuned them out, figuring Danny would show up sooner rather than later anyway, and he could settle things easily enough.

“You’ve gotta admit,” Randy said to Chat Noir, “that you’re not exactly inconspicuous in that getup.”

“I’m not exactly inconspicuous without it, either,” mumbled Chat Noir, though that made no sense to Randy. The Critic lady had said this was a foreign country for him, so it’s not like he’d actually know anyone here or that anyone would know him. Even if he was visiting relatives, chances were they didn’t know his secret, so there was nothing wrong with them seeing him without his mask. He’d be as thoroughly unremarkable to this crowd as Randy was. No one was going to look at him twice. But in that cat getup? After fighting earlier? Someone was bound to look again, even in a city this big.

“C’mon, the others already know what you look like. It’s just me, and I’m not from here, either. If that makes you feel any better. I mean, I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to get home when this is over, so….”

Chat Noir sighed and walked back toward the alley. Randy followed, more to get farther away from the squabbling siblings than anything else. “Claws in,” Randy heard Chat Noir whisper when he was out of easy sight, and the boy tugged the hood of his sweater farther forward before turning around.

Yup.

Unremarkable.

Randy didn’t even need to see his face out of shadow to know that much. “Got a name?” he asked.

Chat Noir hesitated.

Randy didn’t miss Chat Noir’s glance in the direction of Jake and Haley. Quick as it had been, Chat Noir’s continued silence spoke volumes for him. “Just tell me the name of your best friend for now,” Randy suggested, even though it wasn’t like any of them would be able to figure out Chat Noir’s identity from his first name alone even if they wanted to. “That way, you’ll remember what we’re calling you, and you can tell us your real name later if you want.”

Chat Noir smiled. It was small, but it was still a smile, so Randy figured that was a win. “Call me Nino.”

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#secret quartet #miraculous ladybug #adjl #rc9gn #danny phantom #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippets #let's see who's still reading this fic #only 23 notes on my last chapter so it's definitely dropped off #(plus 11 reviews between two sites so not bad)#which is understandable because it's been a while

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