Smells Like Team Spirit
Phic phight 2020
Submitted by @phantomphangphucker: Danny Fenton seeming creepy, unnatural, predatory, etcetera to the general population of Amity Park. Or only seeming creepy, unnatural, predatory, etcetera to tourists, while Amity Park locals are confused by anyone finding Fenton ‘creepy/intimidating’.
Summary: Some mascots are great at pumping up a crowd. As Casper High's mascot, Danny has only one job: strike fear into the hearts of their opponents. This is the story of how Danny becomes the famed Mascot of Fear.
Word count: 9268
Tucker witnesses it first. His cousin from another state is visiting for the weekend and Danny comes over to hang out. Ozzy has met Danny before, a few times, so Tucker thinks they won't mind if Danny joins them for a little while. He arrives while Ozzy is in the bathroom, and Tucker gets a three-player game of the new Doomed: IV console game set up.
Danny lounges on a beanbag chair, leaving the couch to the Foley cousins. Clutching his controller, he plays with the controls, watching his character jump, roll, punch, and shoot, trying to get a feel for the different set up.
"I think they took out the high jump," Danny says. He spams the jump button while tapping various others across the controller, testing different combos.
"What?" Tucker lunges for the game case, taking out the pamphlet tucked inside the cover. He flips through, looking for the controls.
"Yeah, it doesn't seem to—oh damn that's fun."
"What? What?" Tucker scrambles up, throwing the pamphlet aside, and watches Danny's avatar leap into the air, then sprint forward.
"Air-dashing," Danny says with a grin.
"Sweet." The boys bump fists.
Danny, kneeling on his beanbag, keeps air-dashing across the screen, whipping the controller back and forth emphatically. The action does nothing to improve the gameplay, but at the same time, it just wouldn't be as enjoyable without it. Tucker lays upside down on the couch, hands braced on the floor, cheering Danny on. "Go, go, go!"
It's stupid and fun. They haven't even started playing the game yet, but this is the most they'll enjoy themselves all afternoon. And that's the scene Ozzy walks in on.
They remember Tucker's best friend, although they hadn't seen him since coming out. Ozzy's not sure what to expect from him, but it certainly isn't this. And by this they don't mean the raw enthusiasm for a simple game mechanic. They mean the shiver that crawls up their spine the second they lay eyes on Danny. They feel cold, like they've stepped in a bath of ice-water rather than their cousin's living room.
Danny turns his head toward Tucker and sees Ozzy standing in the doorway. Both of them freeze. Ozzy's heart beats fast and heavy in their chest. Their pupils dilate, stretching wide, and sweat beads on their forehead. They can't look away. If they do, then they're dead. If they let Danny out of their sight, they're dead.
Danny gaze slides away, back to the TV, and Ozzy can breathe again.
"Ozzy's here," Danny says.
"Oh!" Tucker's head swivels toward them. He hadn't noticed Ozzy and Danny's little staring contest. It had only lasted a second, but to Ozzy, it felt like an hour.
"Check it out!" Tucker says. He kicks off the back of the couch, flipping forward. His knees hit the carpet hard, making a loud thud, which earns him a shout from the dining room.
"Don't bother the neighbours!" Tucker's mom, Angela, says.
"Okay, Mom!" Tucker calls back, without much conviction in his voice. He beckons Ozzy forward and points to the TV. "They replaced the double jump with air-dashing! Which seems stupid at first, 'cause jumping forward isn't the same as jumping higher. But it looks like if you air-dash into something, you can climb up it!"
Tucker talks fast, making lots of vague gestures with his hands, not really looking at Ozzy. He grabs his own controller off the couch and swivels toward his cousin. "Here's how you do it."
Tucker looks up at Ozzy and pauses. "Hey," he says, tilting his head. "You okay?"
Ozzy is not okay, but they can't really explain it. Danny glances there way again, just for a second, and a shudder passes through them. Something about Danny is off, but Ozzy can't really explain it. He looks the exact same as he did the last time Ozzy saw him, even wearing the same damn t-shirt. But when Ozzy looks at him, and Danny looks back, their brain starts screaming not right, not right, NOT RIGHT!
"I'm, uh, I'm good, yeah," Ozzy says. They shuffle into the room, casting nervous glances Danny's way, and sit down on the couch, taking the farthest spot from Danny. Ozzy leans up against the armrest, taking the controller Tucker passes them, and looks forward. They think that, maybe, if they look ahead instead, if they just don't look at Danny, they won't feel so weird, and whatever this is will pass.
But oh, god, this is so much worse, because now they can't see Danny, and that makes their heart pound. An image of Danny suddenly lunging from his seat bursts into their mind and Ozzy stiffens. Hands tightening around the controller, they glance out of the corner of their eye.
Danny hasn't moved. Danny isn't even looking at them. It doesn't make them feel better.
"Seriously, are you good?" Tucker asks. He sits down to Ozzy's left, blocking their view of Danny.
"Let's just play," Ozzy says.
Tucker shrugs and starts the game. As they play, he keeps looking over at Ozzy, wondering why they're acting so strange. They were just fine half an hour ago, but now they're stiff, and kind of pale, and they keep looking away from the screen, even when they're in the middle of a fight. Ozzy's always been better than Tucker at Doomed, but today they're at the bottom of the scoreboard.
Tucker racks his brain, trying to come up with a reason for the strange behaviour. A bad phone call, maybe? Ozzy's mom has been in and out of the hospital for a while. He hopes it's not that. He wants to ask them what's wrong, but he doesn't want to push it. And they might not be comfortable talking about it with Danny there, either. So, Tucker decides to wait until they're alone.
His chance comes sooner than expected, when Danny says he has to go.
"Aw, really?" Tucker asks. He droops, shoulders slumping. "You've only been here an hour."
"Yeah." Danny nods. "I just remembered that physics assignment. I haven't finished yet."
"I thought you finished that?"
"Uh, so did I. But Jazz just texted me. She found the sheet and apparently, I left a few questions blank. I should go home and finish before she really gets on my case." Danny stands up and stretches his arms above his head. "Sorry. We can make up for it next time."
Before Tucker can protest further, Danny leaves, casting one last furtive glance in Ozzy's direction. Ozzy doesn't relax until they hear the front door close.
"What did he even check his phone?" Tucker mutters. Thinking back, he can't even remember Danny looking down at his pocket. It bothers him, but he knows Danny wouldn't lie without a good reason, so he'll leave it for now.
He pounces on Ozzy instead
"What's wrong?" Tucker asks.
"You're a worse liar than Danny. Is it... is it your mom?"
"What? No." Ozzy shakes their head. "Mom's fine. She's doing really good, actually."
"But there is something wrong," Tucker presses.
Ozzy groans. They reach up to run their fingers through their hair, faltering when they touch their shoulder instead. Moving their hand up, they touched their buzzed head. "I don't know. Danny, he–" Ozzy cuts themself off.
"Danny? What'd he do? Did he say something while I wasn't looking? I'll kick his ass," Tucker says, leaping to his feet.
"No, don't!" Ozzy grabs Tucker's belt and yanks him back down. "It's nothing, okay? He didn’t do anything. It's stupid."
Tucker stares intently at them, then sighs and backs off. "Okay. It's okay if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. But if you do want to talk about whatever it is, I'm right here."
"Yeah, okay," Ozzy says.
Valerie sees it next. She invites Danny over for a study session at her new place in Elmerton. People say Elmerton is a neighbourhood at the edge of Amity Park, but as someone who now lives there, Valerie knows it's its own town. The people in Elmerton aren't like the people Amity. They don't have the same mannerisms. They don't have the same slang. They don't even have the same ghosts.
In fact, Elmerton has no ghosts. Which makes it a pretty poor place for a ghost hunter to live, but the apartments are cheap, and it's all her dad can afford right now.
They take the bus after school. It's an inter-city bus, because none of the school buses go out that far. The ride is more than hour. Plenty of people get on and off the bus in that time. Valerie likes to watch them. She can tell exactly when the last person from Amity Park steps off.
Valerie doesn't know how she could explain it to an outsider, but people from Amity can recognize each other at a moment's glance. It's something about the way they hold themselves, how they react to things. When your life gets threatened every day by ghosts from another realm, you look at things a little differently. It's like one day everyone from Amity Park collectively decided to stop giving a damn about anything that didn't immediately threaten to kill them.
"Huh," Valerie says as she looks over the bus. She and Danny sit at the very back, in Valerie's usual seat. After her first few times taking the bus, she learned it was just polite to sit further back when you had a longer ride. It also gives her a good view of the whole bus.
"What is it?" Danny asks, looking away from the window. So far, he has been spending most of the ride staring out at the passing scenery, watching as things got dirtier and poor run down the closer they got to Elmerton.
Instead of answering, Valerie leans over Danny.
"Hey!" He presses himself back against his seat, raising his arms, a scarlet blush creeping across his cheeks.
Valerie ignores him in favour of scanning the skies. "You don't see any ghosts or anything, do you?"
"What? No. Why? Why would there be a ghost here? I mean, it's Elmerton, right?" Danny says. He laughs and looks away, tugging the collar of his shirt. Is it just him or is it a little hot in here all of a sudden?
"Yeah, I guess so," Valerie says, pulling back. Her frown stays settled on her face.
There are only a few people on the bus with them, besides the driver. At the very front, a woman with weathered skin and greying hair, who got on at the last stop. Even though the bus is already moving again, she still hasn't taken her seat. Instead, she stands straight, facing the back of the bus.
By the middle doors is a young woman and teenage girl, their backs to Valerie and Danny. The woman has her arm around the girl's shoulder. Every once in a while, she cranes her neck and looks in their direction.
A man in a rumpled suit sits closest to them. Valerie sees him on the bus every day. They've chatted a few times, and he's nice enough. They usually say hi to each other. Today, he had started down the aisle toward them, giving a cheery wave. But the moment his gaze slipped from Valerie to Danny, he paled, dropping into the nearest seat. He clutches his briefcase tightly, holding it like a shield.
Valerie knows instantly that none of these people are from Amity Park because they all look afraid and she has no idea why. She stares at them a moment longer, glaring at the young woman when she peeks over her shoulder again.
It takes Valerie a minute to realize it, but she finally notices the one thing all of them are doing.
"Are they... staring at you?" Valerie whispers to Danny.
He shifts uncomfortably, tucking his hands under his arms, and leans his head against hers to whisper back. "Yeah."
Danny shrugs. "It's just a thing people do sometimes."
"People sometimes stare at you like you're about to, I don't know, pounce on them?"
Danny shrugs again.
"That's... really weird."
"Maybe they've heard of my parents," he says, grinning sardonically.
Valerie rolls her eyes and pushes his shoulder. He laughs, and Valerie does her best to ignore the tense atmosphere for the rest of the ride. She ignores it, but she doesn't forget it.
Valerie finds Tucker in the gym sound booth after school one day and corners him there. She locks the door behind her and pins him against the sound board. "What's up with Danny?" she asks accusingly.
Both Tucker and Sam have the annoying habit of dancing around Valerie's words whenever she tries to approach them cautiously. She's learned, from experience, that being direct and forceful is the only way to get information out of them. Getting Tucker alone with no back up also helps.
"I don't know! He's not a ghost!" Tucker blurts out, raising his arms defensively.
"I mean, nothing. Nothing's up with Danny. He's so great. You know how great he is. You dated him for a little bit, luck you."
Valerie stares at him, wondering for a moment if this is Tucker's way of confessing that he has a crush on his best friend. She shakes her head, casting that thought aside for now. Grabbing Tucker's collar, she pulls him forward until they're nose to nose.
"You mean you've never seen how odd people get around him?"
"What, no?" Tucker's genuinely confused by the question. His face screws up as he thinks, trying to figure out what the hell Valerie is talking about. He needs to tread lightly, so he doesn't accidentally spill Danny's secret. He doesn't think she knows, despite how weird her question is.
"Just think about it for a minute, okay?" Valerie says. She releases Tucker and steps back, crossing her arms.
Tucker composes himself, smoothing out his shirt, and gives her a dirty look. He decides to indulge her anyway. With a great, dramatic sigh, Tucker taps his chin, looking up at the ceiling, then down at the floor. He hums and haws, making a great show of how terrible and strenuous thinking about this is, and then he shrugs.
"Nope, can't say I know what you mean." Brushing past Valerie, he heads for the door.
She reaches out and grabs his collar again, yanking him back.
"Come on, you're gonna stretch it!" Tucker whines, batting Valerie's hand off.
"I'm being serious here, Tucker. You've never seen anyone looking, I don't know, afraid of Danny? Kind of wary?"
"Afraid? Of Danny? You can't be serious, he's not–" Tucker freezes.
"What is it?" Valerie reaches out for him again.
Tucker smacks her hands away and skips out of her reach. "A couple months ago. I had my cousin over, and Danny hung out with us for a bit. They were acting really weird. I thought it was about their mom. And then I thought it was because they weren't out the last time they saw Danny, but they said it wasn't either of those and told me to drop it."
"Danny came over to my place to work on our history project last week. On the bus, people wouldn't stop looking at him. He brushed it off, but that's weird, right?" Valerie asks. "They looked like... like they were afraid."
Tucker laughs. "So weird. Can you imagine people being scared of Danny?"
It's the most ridiculous thing either of them has heard all year. They break down into a fit of laughter, falling against each other. It's so outlandish and absurd that you couldn't make it up if you tried.
Which is why Star, who has her ear pressed against the sound booth door, grins and takes off the moment the conversation dissolves into laughter. She has only one thought in mind: Paulina has got to hear about this.
"Yeah!" Star nods enthusiastically. "I swear that's what they said."
"Afraid of Fenton?" Paulina asks. Star's already said it three times, but it's so unbelievable she has to hear it again.
"Afraid of Fenton," Star repeats. "Foley's cousin and some," she waves her had dismissively, "Elmertonites."
"Who's Foley's cousin?" Paulina asks. She can't remember if Foley has any other family in the city, but Star would. Star's the only person who knows this town, and it's people, better than Paulina. They are the gossip queens and they make everybody's business their own. Knowing a little extra something about a certain somebody could always come in handy somewhere down the line.
"An out-of-towner," Star says.
"Interesting." Paulina closes her locker and leans against. She waves at a few boys walking by, giving them a disarming smile. They crane their necks around to keep looking at her for as long as they can. As soon as they're around the corner, Paulina's smile drops and she turns back to Star. "You know, I think now's a great time for my friend from New York to come visit!"
Star grins. "Oh, great idea, Paulie. Amity is so great this time of year."
They walk down the hall, arm in arm, giggling and conspiring.
Everyone knows about Paulina's New York friend. Theirs is a friendship built not out of love but a mutual desire to constantly get one up on each other. Which means they aren't friends at all. But, their dads are business partners, so the two girls often find themselves forced together. These occasions are typically full of sweet smiles and sweeter words. Which everyone knows is a clever rich girls choice weapon in any circumstance.
When Paulina invites Whitney van der Bloom to Amity Park for the weekend, Whitney answers with a cheerful, "Sweetie, do you even need to ask?"
Which really means, "Sweetie, why on Earth would I want to go?" Sweetie, in both cases, is not a complement.
Whitney goes, of course. With a slew of backhanded complements tucked in her pocket. The battle begins the moment her plane touches down and she is determined to come out of this weekend as the undisputed victor. Paulina may have a home advantage, but Whitney was born into this kind of conflict. New money always flounders around a bit before learning how to properly navigate the delicate social rules of high society, and she can tell Paulina is still getting her sea legs.
Whitney finds it adorable, like watching a baby toddle through their first steps.
On her walk through the airport, Whitney touches as little as possible. She left New York in a private plane, from a private airstrip, where every surface was clean and shiny. Amity Park was neither of those things.
By the main entrance, she finds Paulina's driver holding a sign with Whitney's name on it. She passes him her luggage, a single Gucci bag, and follows him outside to the waiting car. She's impressed by Paulina's power play, although she would never say it out loud. Staying in the car while sending her driver out to collect Whitney, like a nanny picking up a child from daycare, is a bold move.
It's fine. Whitney will let her have the lead, for now. She won't have it for long.
The driver opens the back door. Whitney slides inside like she owns the car, tossing her hair over her shoulder, giving the driver a sugary smile. When she turns and gets her first good look at the inside, she freezes.
Rather than sitting on the other side of the car, at a respectful distance, Paulina is right beside her in the middle seat. And there are four other people with her. Paulina's little satellite—Whitney thinks her name is Sun—sits to her left. And across from them are two boys she doesn't know—and doesn't want to, based on how they're dressed—plus a girl she does know.
"Sammy?" Whitney asks, looking across the car at the Sam Manson, heir to the Manson fortune.
"Bloom," Sam greets her coolly. Sam doesn't even twitch at the nickname she loathes. Because that would be a sign of weakness, and she knows that if there's one thing you never want to do, it's look weak in front of Whitney van der Bloom. The girl may only be fifteen but she's a menace.
"Hi." Whitney drags out the "i," her voice rising and falling. "Oh. My. God. I haven't seen you since the Cabo retreat! What are the chances of seeing you here?"
Sam grins wickedly. "Pretty high, actually."
"Oh?" Witney doesn't have a response for that. Sam has always thrown her off, purely because she refuses to play the same games Whitney and Paulina do. It's infuriating.
She turns to the two strangers instead, looking them up and down. The boy on Sam's right makes her cringe. A turtleneck and cargo pants? Whitney would give him points for boldness if the colours weren't so garish. When she meets his eyes, he wiggles his eyebrows at her.
Whitney immediately decides she wants nothing to do with him.
The other boy, sitting right across from her, isn't much better. Worn out jeans that are actually worn out and weren't just made to be like that, and a ratty old t-shirt with a flaming green "F" on it. Gross. Resisting the urge to curl her lip, she lifts her eyes to his face.
He's not looking at her. He's looking down and away, his stare so intense it should be burning a hole in the carpet. Little does she know, it could, with very little effort on his part.
Normally, Whitney takes that kind of gesture as a sign of submission. Instant victory. Right now, something about this boy makes her think she doesn't want his eyes on her.
"Whit! I'm so happy you could come!" Paulina throws her arms around Whitney's shoulders and pulls her in for a hug, kissing Whitney's cheeks twice.
Whitney snaps out of her daze, although not fast enough to return the kisses. Another victory for Paulina.
"Of course, Lina!" Whitney says. She sees the boy in the turtleneck mouth "Lina" at Sam. She wonders what their relationship is. "There's no way I would pass up the chance to visit somewhere as quaint as Amity Park. It's nice to get a break from the lavish lifestyle, you know?"
"Oh, I know. You look like you need a nice rest." Paulina smiles widely.
Whitney's eye twitches. "So, Lina, who are your friends?"
"Well, you already know Sam. I didn't realize you ran in such high circles," Paulina said, earning another twitch. Before she can say anything back, Paulina moves on. "And these two are her friends. Tucker." The boy in the turtleneck, "and Danny." The boy that Whitney does not want to look at her.
Paulina leans forward and grabs Danny's arm, pulling him right out of his seat. He yelps and stumbles, bumping his head on the top of the car. Tucker reaches out to stop him, but Sam holds her arm out and keeps him back, wearing that same fiendish smirk. Before Whitney can figure out what's happening, Star's moved to take Danny's place, and Paulina has slid over to the other side of the car. She drags Danny down and sits him right next to Whitney.
"Danny's such a good friend, I can't believe I haven't introduced you to him sooner," Paulina says. She's still hugging his arm, pushing him forward a little more so Whitney has no choice but to squeeze up against the door to avoid touching him.
She doesn't want to touch him. She doesn't want to be next to him. She doesn't even want to be in the same car as him. Whitney unconsciously reaches for the door handle, but the car's already moving. She's trapped.
"Don't be rude, Danny. Say hi to Whitney," Sam says. She looks like the cat that ate the canary. And Whitney feels like the bird.
Danny gives Sam a disgruntled look before turning to Whitney. "Uh, hey, Whitney," he says.
Whitney tenses. The sound of his voice sends shivers down her spine. It washes over her, raising goosebumps along her arms. The cold certainly doesn't help. She thinks it's the AC in the car, until Danny's arm brushes against hers and she flinches away. His skin is icy to the touch.
"Sorry," Danny mutters. He finally looks at her.
Whitney wilts under his stare. Looking into his eyes is like looking into an endless expanse. Her own gaze jumps around, searching, but Danny's holds steady. Not even a twitch. Whitney's not even sure if he's blinked since she got in the car. When he looks away, his eyes slide off her.
"You– you're very," she stammers. For once, her words are lost to her.
Paulina's smile is bright as the sun. She leans back, giving Danny the space to do the same, and Whitney quickly tries to compose herself. She steadies her breathing, checking the other occupants of the car to see how they reacted. Tucker looks curious. Sam looks smug. Star looks delightfully vapid, eyes wide and smile wider.
"They're going to be with us all day, I hope you don't mine," Paulina says. "Danny knows the city really well, and Sam. Well, like I said. She's a Manson."
Whitney, still at a loss for words, nods numbly.
"This will be so much fun!" Star says, clapping her hands together.
Whitney doesn't think so.
Whitney lasts for four hours, which is far longer than anyone expected.
"I'm almost impressed," Star says, waving at Whitney's private jet as it takes off. "She's very good at faking important phone calls."
"Just never tell her that to her face," Paulina says. Hand on her hip, she eyes Sam, Tucker, and Danny. "I guess we can give you all rides home. But I hope you know this was a one-time thing. Mostly because Whitney probably won't come back after that."
"Uh." Danny raises his hand. "How do you know the phone call wasn't important? Why won't she be back? She's your friend, isn't she?"
"Oh, Danny. You're so sweet, you know that?" Paulina pats his cheek and pivots. Swaying her hips, she starts walking back toward the car. It's not even an insult this time.
"Thank you? I guess?" Danny says.
"Come on, Fenton. I might even help you with your math for what you did today." Star grabs his wrist and drags him after Paulina.
"I didn't do anything!"
Sam and Tucker linger a moment longer, watching Whitney's plane disappear into the sky. Tucker turns to Sam and says, "I'm so confused. Why did you even agree to this?"
Sam shrugs. "Whitney van der Bloom sucks."
"Yeah. Yeah, she does."
Paulina and Star eagerly spread the word: Danny Fenton scares outsiders. The rumour spreads quickly throughout Casper High, although everyone is careful never to mention it while Danny himself is around. Not even Sam and Tucker tell him. It's one of those rumours you don't want getting back to the person it's about. Not because it's bad, but because it's a hell of a lot more fun when they don’t know.
Nobody really gets the "why," except those who know Danny best. To everyone else, he's a scrawny kid with eccentric parents, and he wouldn't hurt a fly. Most of them decide outsiders are just weird like that and put it out of mind. But Mikey, clever kid that he is, decides to put Danny's mysterious ability to work.
"I'll help you with your physics homework if you cheer us on at the decathlon," Mikey says. He leans across the aisle between their desk, whispering low enough that the teacher won't hear them.
"You do sports?" Danny asks, raising on eyebrow.
"No, it's academic. Don't be ridiculous."
On the edge of his seat, Mikey waits for Danny's reply. The decathlon is tomorrow, which may have been short notice, but Mikey isn't a fool. He knows academics bore the hell out of Danny and the only way he will go is with incentive. Mikey waited until they got their most recent test back. Peeking at Danny's paper, he can see his classmate failed, which is good news for him.
One decathlon is a small price to pay for a passing grade.
Danny looks down at the big red F on his test. He whispers back, "Sure. When is it? Do people have to dress nice for these things?"
"Tomorrow. And," Mikey pauses a moment to consider, "yes. I mean, no. Not nice, but there's this thing we do. It's okay, I'll have you covered. Just wear what you usually do."
Danny looks uncertain, but Mikey knows he'll accept. He gave Danny no other choice.
Mikey tries to gauge Danny's reaction when he passes over the hoodie. It's ten minutes to the start of the competition. They're backstage getting ready for the judge to call them out. At the moment, they're separated from the other team, but there's no rule against some friendly banter before things get going, so Mikey has a plan. A plan that needs Danny to wear this hoodie.
Danny holds it up, frowning at the design on the front. A fierce raven with bright green eyes carrying a bloodied snake in its beak; they're competing with Silver Valley today whose mascot is a snake. He picks up the hood, inspecting the mask sewn into it. It's a simple black masquerade mask with a long, beak-like nose.
"And this is... standard?" Danny asks, lowering the hoodie so he can look Mikey in the eyes.
Mikey nods emphatically. "Yeah. I know decathlons don't seem exciting, but we get really into it. Lots of people do this."
"And you just had a hoodie with this exact picture lying around?" Danny turns the hoodie around, displaying the graphic image on the front.
"Yeah. Lester wore it last time. He's let me borrow it for you today," Mikey lies. It actually cost him thirty bucks to get custom made, but the mask was cheap. Besides, the competition today has a cash prize, which will more than make up for it when his team wins.
"If you say so," Danny says. He shucks off his button up and pulls the hoodie on instead, pushing the hood down to rest at the back of his neck.
Mikey immediately pulls it back up and lowers the mask over Danny's eyes. "It's part of the school spirit," Mikey says.
"Riiight." Danny adjusts the mask, but he doesn't take it down. "Shouldn't I be sitting in the audience?"
"You will. But I wanted to introduce you to the other team first. It's a sportsmanship thing," Mikey explains. He beckons Danny forward, leading him down a long hall behind the stage. As the hall opens up into the wings of the stage, the other team comes into view.
Like Mikey and the other decathlon members, they wear matching jackets. Although where Casper's jackets are red, Silver Valley wears grey.
Danny stops just before stepping into their line of sight. "Mikey," he hisses. "I don't see anyone dressed like a snake over here."
"Just trust me. You want that physics help, right?" Mikey only feels a little guilty about tricking Danny like this. Mikey's not actually hurting him, and they aren't breaking any competition rules, so it's fine.
Danny shuffles his feet, giving the other team a solid once through, and nods.
"Hi, everyone!" Mikey says, drawing the team's attention. "We just wanted to come over and wish you good luck! Friendly competition and all that."
Watching them closely, Mikey catches the exact moment they lay eyes on Danny, and it is so much better than he could have hoped. The whole team freezes. Mikey can see their eyes dilating, like they've been shot with a burst of adrenaline, a little kick-starter in their fight-or-flight response. Judging by the way a few of them shuffle back, they're leaning toward flight.
Mikey revels in the fear in their eyes. "Good luck!" he says.
"Yeah." Mikey turns at Danny's voice. For a second, he thinks he sees something in Danny's eyes, something swirling and green. But in a blink, it's gone. Danny smiles brightly, but with the mask it looks downright villainous. "Good luck. I think you'll need it."
The Silver Valley team pales. Casper High wins by a landslide that day.
The story of Casper High's raven boy spreads from Silver Valley out to other schools. Most of them think it's just a rumour, but enough people pass it along that it eventually works its way back to Casper and into the ears of one Dash Baxter. Dash, being the proud jock he is, can't let himself be one-upped by a nerd.
"Hey, Fenton!" he calls out to Danny at lunch hour. Shoving his way between Sam and Tucker, Dash slams his hands down on the table. Danny flinches. "Relax, I'm not here to wail on you. For once."
Sam shoves Dash's hand off the table. "Great, then get the hell out of here," she says.
"Shut up, Manson. I ain't talking to you." Dash sneers. He turns his focus back to Danny. "I got a proposition for you."
"I can't believe he knows the word proposition," Tucker whispers.
"I said shut it!" Dash raises his hand to smack Foley upside the head. Halfway through the swing, Danny lurches forward and snatches Dash's wrist.
"Dash, if you want to make a deal or something, I don't think hitting my best friend is the right way to start," Danny says.
Dash scowls at him. He jerks his hand out of Danny's grip and steps back, rubbing his wrist. He won't say it out loud, but Danny's got a pretty good grip. "Yeah, whatever. He's not worth it anyway."
People are staring at them now. Most of them looking for a show Dash isn't going to give, at least not today. Eager to get this over with fast, Dash leans over until he's so close there's no way anyone could overhear them.
"Listen. You do one thing for me, and maybe I won't wail on you for a week," he says.
Danny shoots him a deadpan stare. "Maybe?"
"Fine," Dash relents. "I definitely won't."
"What do I have to do?"
"Come to our next football game."
"Are you deaf, Fenton? Come. To. The. Game." Dash enunciates carefully, slapping his palms down with each word, leaning closer in. Danny reels back so far that he has to grab the table to keep from slipping off the bench. "And wear the sweater."
Dash saunters away before Danny has a chance to respond. The prying eyes turn away then, more than a few disappointed by the turn of events. Danny ignores them in favour of turning to his friends.
"Do you guys know what sweater he's talking about?" he asks.
"Probably the one Mikey had you wear," Tucker says. "Because it's so s–" Sam kicks him under the table. "–exy! It's uh... it's a sexy sweater."
"Oh, my god." Sam drops her face into her hands.
Danny doesn't know it's not standard practice to shake hands with the opposing team's quarterback, and their backup quarterback, and their backup backup quarter back before a football game. But he is pretty sure it's weird for him, a random student, to be doing it instead of someone from the actual team.
"Just stand in front of 'em until they shake your hand, that's it," Dash says, shoving Danny toward the Waterford Heights Weasels. He waves impatiently, motioning Danny forward. Dash personally doesn't see what's so scary about the getup. A sweat with a bird and a mask, big whoop. But he's willing to try it, anyway.
"Think it'll work?" Kwan asks. They stand side-by-side, arms crossed, elbows brushing. The rest of the team mills about behind them, some of them spying on Fenton, others getting in the right headspace for the game. It's only a couple minutes to kickoff.
Dash shrugs. "Worth a shot."
It's a great night for a game. The sky is clear. It's not too chilly. There's still an hour before the sun will set. It means they'll have the light in their eyes for half the game, but if this works, that won't even matter.
Dash and Kwan watch Danny approach the first player. They made sure to give him the jersey numbers beforehand. Kwan, who has neater penmanship, wrote them down on Danny's palm. Their original idea was to have him greet the whole team but that would take too long. They settled for the key players instead.
Danny plants himself in front of the star quarterback and sticks his hand out. Dash snickers when the guy tries to step around Danny, and Danny sidesteps right back into his path. He says something and shoves his hand in the quarterback's direction again.
"You think Fenton's playing along?" Kwan asks.
"Nah. As if he even knows what's up. Did you see the blank look he gave me in the cafeteria? Besides, I upped the 'no-beating' time to two weeks if he did the handshakes."
Kwan touches his fingers as he silently counts the dates in his head. "That's the next home game."
"Yep. If this works tonight, I might just give him the offer again then."
The Waterford's quarterback eventually shakes Danny's hand, scurrying away as soon as he's released. Danny moves on to the next one.
That night, the Waterford Weasels don't get a single touchdown.
Danny is suddenly the most popular kid at school, at least amongst the jocks. Considering how much weight Casper High puts behind their athletic programs, that makes him pretty damn high on the food chain. Not that he seems to realize.
The basketball team, the volleyball team, even the cheerleaders. They drag a confused Danny along whenever they can and set him lose on the opposing team. There's always a bribe, of course. Everybody knows Danny isn't big into school spirit. He'd never gone to a single game before all this, after all.
At first, they're just using him. He freaks out the competition so much it throws them off their game, which means a lot more trophies to fill up Casper High's dusty case in the near future. Eventually, though, it becomes something else. There's still the raw, primal joy of seeing Danny scare the hell out of some outsiders, but they start inviting him to the after parties, too. They let Danny's friends tag along. Dash even gives him a friendly slap on the back one day when they're passing in the hall.
Three months ago, nothing like that would have happened. Three months ago, Dash would have stuffed you in a locker for even suggesting it.
By some miracle, they manage to keep the teachers out of the loop. If any of them asks, the students either answer with a shrug, or suggest that Fenton's turned a new leaf and he's really into school spirit now. Most of them go for the shrug.
It doesn't last forever, though. The students get bolder, inviting Danny to away games outside the city. He rejects most of them, no matter how sweet the bribe, with a number of excuses.
"I have homework."
"I've got some extracurricular stuff to work on."
"I don't have a car."
"You don't need a car, we've got a bus!" Dash says.
Danny, already turning to walk away, stops. "What?"
"You can ride on the team bus with us," Dash says. It's not exactly conventional, but they've got the room for it. All they have to do is sneak Danny past Tetslaff and keep him out of sight until they're on the road. There's not much she can do about it once they've already set out.
"Are you serious?" Danny asks.
Dash rolls his eyes, not even deigning Danny with a proper response. Fishing his notebook out his backpack, Dash quickly scribbles out the time and date of the away game, plus when the team bus is going to leave.
Danny eyes the piece of paper, frowning as he tries to decipher Dash's cramped handwriting.. "You don't even know if I'll show up."
"You'll show up."
"I doubt it."
Danny shows up. He meets Dash by the back door, already donning the sweater he's now permanently borrowed from Mikey. He asked Mikey if Lester would ever want it back, but Mikey assured him his debt is settled. Whatever that means.
"Tetslaff usually waits until all the equipment is loaded up before getting on. We just have to sneak you by her, which won't be too hard," Dash says.
"You realize I'm not shorter than you anymore, right?" Danny asks.
Dash squints. No, he hadn't, actually. Even though they see each other every day, Dash still pictures Danny as the same wimpy kid from freshman year. But Danny's right. He has a few inches on Dash, now that they're a couple years older, although he's still got nothing in terms of muscle mass. Just looking at him, Dash is pretty sure Mikey has more muscle than Danny does.
"Whatever, let's just go." Dash leads Danny over to the bus.
Tetself stands with her back to them. She oversees the rest of the team as they throw their equipment bags into the storage compartment at the bottom of the bus. She's completely oblivious to the two rule breakers heading her way.
But Kwan and Dale see coming from afar and jog over to join them. They fall into step on Dash's left, making a little wall between Danny and Tetslaff. If Danny ducks his head, he's completely out of view. They're almost home free, a few feet from the bus, when Danny's foot slips into a rut in the grass he careens forward.
He cries out in shock, throwing his arms out to catch himself. Dash manages to snag his arm before he hits the ground, jerking Danny to a stop. He hangs there a moment, body limp, blinking at the grass and wondering if that really just happened.
"Daniel Fenton, what are you doing?" Tetslaff asks.
Dash jostles Danny out of his daze. He scrambles upright, brushing himself off as Tetslaff approaches. She stops right in front of him, fists on her hip, her glare stern.
"Getting on the bus?" Danny says.
Behind Tetslaff, Dash slaps a hand against his face.
"Only team members are allowed on the team bus. Those are the rules."
"But coach, he's out lucky charm!" Dash protests.
Tetslaff turns, squinting at Dash. Crossing her arms, she leans toward him. "Oh, yeah? How so?"
Dash, Kwan, and Dale share a long, considering look. Kwan shrugs. Dale tilts his head back. Shooting Danny a wary glance, Dash beckons Tetslaff over, out of earshot. She stays rooted to the spot.
Normally, a little something like saying please wouldn't do a lick of help in swaying Tetslaff. She's as stubborn as her arms are thick. But today, she feels a little indulgent. The team's being doing great, both in practice and on field. She's willing to give a little, if only for all the effort they're giving her back.
With a sigh, Tetslaff follows Dash.
"He scares the hell out of the other players so that they mess up and we win," Dash confesses once they're out of earshot.
Tetslaff's eyebrows shoot up her forehead. "Fear tactics, huh? Didn't want to rely on you own skill?"
"That's not it! I know we're a great team. We don't need Fenton. But he makes us work harder for it. He's kind of motivating, you know?"
Tetslaff looks at Dash and says nothing. With a shake of her head, she marches back to Danny. "Mr. Fenton, you're coming with me."
Danny gives the team a helpless look, a weak shrug, and follows their coach back into the school.
"Damn," Kwan says. "Almost had it."
"Did you mean what you said about Fenton, Dash?" Dale asks.
"I think I did?" Dash watches Danny and Tetslaff until they disappear through the doors. "I don't know about you guys, but whenever he scares the other team, I kind of want to earn that."
Dale nods. "Man, I wanted to see the fear in their eyes.
"Huh." Kwan taps his chin, deep in thought. "Does anyone else think we should be concerned about the fact that we enjoy that so much?"
All at once, more than half the team drones, "Nah."
"I think you're right, though," Kwan says to Dash. "Having Danny around is kind of fun."
"Today's game is gonna be so boring." Dale moans in disappointed. He boards the bus, quickly followed by his teammates. Soon enough, everyone is on and in their seats. All they need is for Tetslaff to return. She's gone for a solid ten minutes. There are still a few hours before the game starts, but it makes the players antsy. Dash keeps checking out the window for any sign of her.
The school's back door opens. Dash perks up, leaning toward the glass as Tetslaff steps out. She holds the door open. Danny comes out after her. And he's wearing the official Casper High Raven costume.
"Boys!" Tetslaff says when she climbs back on the boss. "Say hello to our new mascot!"
Her declaration is met with a round of cheers.
It's two hours before the game. Danny sits on a bench outside the locker rooms, the raven head resting beside him. When Tetslaff offered to make him the mascot, he admittedly hesitated. In the past, he didn't have time for stuff like this. But things are a little easier now, ghost-wise. His parents are better hunters. Valerie proves time and again how capable she is. The ghosts themselves have even backed off a little since Danny started junior year.
For the first time since starting high school, he actually has the time to do high school things outside of homework. It won't be his first time acting as the official mascot, either. He used to fill in for the mascot in freshman year, before things got too much for Danny to handle and he had to drop it.
He wishes Tetslaff let him keep wearing his hoodie, though. The raven costume isn't that comfortable.
The door to the locker rooms opens. Paulina steps through, already in her cheerleading outfit even though there's still an hour before she needs to be on the field. She takes one look at Danny and says, "Oh, hell no."
Danny recoils, offended. He thought they were on sort of good terms after everything with Whitney, but apparently, he was wrong.
"Tetslaff already made me the mascot, Paulina. I'm here whether you like it or not," he says.
"No, duh. I'm pretty sure you two were the only ones who didn't know you're are mascot." Paulina flicks the shoulder of the raven suit. It makes a dull thunk. The plastic feathers barely twitch. "But you're not scaring anyone in that thing. What are you gonna do, say 'boo?'"
Danny thinks about all the little tricks he has up his sleeve and grins. "I think you'd be surprise."
The costume may be bulky and round, with a wide friendly smile that gives one of those "huggable mascot" looks, but Danny's a ghost. If anybody can do scary, it's him. The past few months have proved that nicely.
"Wait, wait, wait," Paulina says, holding up her hands. She pivots in front of Danny and grabs his shoulders. "You know that you scare people?"
"I mean, yeah? It's kind of hard not to." Danny shakes his head. After the fifth time some stranger flinches away from your touch, you start piecing things together.
"And you never said anything?"
Danny honestly didn't think he had to. Did everyone just expect him not to catch on? Yes. Yes, they did. But that's not the point right now. Danny rubs the back of his neck and chuckles nervously. "I don't really care much about being popular anymore, but it's kind of nice to be invited to stuff, you know?"
Paulina doesn't believe him for a second. She crosses her arms and gives him a critical star. "And?" she asks.
Danny looks at her, looks away. Kicks the grass with his foot. He knows exactly what she wants to hear. He wants to deny it, but he can't. Sheepishly, he admits, "And it's kind of fun."
"Perfect. Then you won't mind what I'm about to do to you."
"Wait, what? Paulina, I– ah!" Paulina grabs his arm and drags him into the girl's locker room.
Danny holds himself perfectly still, arms out from his body. "Paulina, I don't think–"
"Ah, ah, ah! I'm almost done! No moving. And make sure you don't lean back against things too much, or else you'll smudge it." Paulina peers under Danny's arm, holding a paintbrush slathered in blue body paint so dark it's almost black.
"Aren't our team colours red and white?" Danny asks. Turning his arms over, he scans the parts of his skin Paulina has already finished painting. Bold feathers cover most of his upper arm, going up his shoulder and, from what Danny could feel as Paulina worked, down his back. She won't let him see what she's doing, though. He hopes it's cool.
"You mean the most boring colours in team colour history?" Paulina scoffs. She steps back, admiring her work for a moment, and drops her brush in the can of body paint. "I've been trying to get Ishiyama to change the school colours for years. Maybe with this, she will."
"Are you don’t yet?"
"Boy, I worked hard on this, let me breathe it in before you go out there and ruin it."
"Mikey's hoodie was scarier."
"Mikey's hoodie was garish. This is a work of art."
Danny picks at his new pants, heavy things made of a thick material and covered in a generous layer of black feathers. At least his legs will be warm tonight.
"You think I'm scarier without a shirt on? Gee, thanks." Danny rolls his eyes. He's not as offended as he sounds, though. Being a half ghost has led to some physical qualities he would rather do without, but can't do anything to change. Like an incredibly fast metabolism that burns through everything he eats before he even has a chance to taste it. Jazz keeps telling him he has to start making health choices, so he doesn't pass out or keel over from hunger.
He tries, but there's only so much he can do, and his ribs seem to be permanently on display. Danny pokes them now, scowling at how they press against his skin. That is so not healthy. He lets his hand drop back to the feathered pants.
"Where did you even get this on such short notice?" he asks. All Paulina did was make a phone call, then someone came buy and dropped off a paper bag with the pants, body paint, and a smaller plastic bag inside.
"I already had it made, silly. I told you, that sweater was so ugly. I couldn't let you keep repping Casper High in something like that." The noise Paulina makes is nothing short of disgusted. She really hates Mikey's sweater, effective as it was. But this is going to be glorious.
Danny peeks over his shoulder, trying to catch his reflection in the mirror, but he can't get a good view.
"Look straight," Paulina commands, pushing Danny's cheek. She raises his arms. "Hold them out like this, perfectly still. Perfect."
She takes out her phone and snaps a few photos of Danny's back. Flicking through them, she chooses the best one, posting it to the Casper Ravens twitter page with the caption "new mascot unveiling tonight." Once she's done, she passes her phone to Danny to show him her handiwork.
"Whoa." Danny stares down at the delicately painted wings on his back. Paulina made them just right so that when he raises his arms, it looks like the wings are unfurling. "Okay, that's a lot cooler than Mikey's hoodie. A shirt would still be nice, though."
"It'd take away from the look. You're practically a skeleton. What'll freak people out more than that?"
"Really feeling the love, Paulie."
"No using my nickname for her!" Star shouts from behind a row of lockers.
Paulina shooed the other girls to the other side of the room when she brought Danny in to give him his new look. By now, they are all changed into their uniforms and ready to show they're spirit.
"Okay. I'll just call her Lina instead."
"Please, god, no." Paulina groans. "That name is so stupid."
The other cheerleaders giggle as they join Danny and Paulina in the main room. They look nice, wearing their matching pleated skirts and crop tops. With their hands on their hips, the pom-poms give their steps a little extra bounce.
"We know you haven't choreographed anything. Just do your think, and we'll do ours. I know you aren't as clumsy as people think," Star says. She gives Danny an encouraging pat on his cheek. It is not as motivating as she thinks it is.
The girls start lining up by the door, doing a few small jumps to get their blood pumping. Danny does the same, shaking out his arms and hopping from foot to foot. He moves to take his place at the end of the line.
"Oh, what now?" Danny groans, slumping over. Paulina's shoes invade his vision. She sticks a plastic bag under his nose, holding it out for him to take. "What's this?"
"The last piece of your costume. It's my favourite."
Danny removes the piece from the bag. He grins wickedly.
Balmoral High, as the home team, runs onto the field first. Having heard of Caspers' unusual intimidation tactics, they came prepared. The players run onto the field amidst a burst of sparklers and strobe lights flashing their team colours. It pumps up the crowd, just as it's meant to, and the team is met with a roar of approval.
They pump their fists, leaping and bounding across the field. Cheerleaders in short skirts and shorter tops wave their pom-poms, do cartwheels and flips, and spur the crowd on. Their mascot runs on last. A guy in a bear costume, his raises his arms and roars, slashing his paws through the air.
It's all very cute.
Casper High comes in with far less fanfare. The cheerleaders are first, swishing their hips and blowing kisses at the crowd. Raising their voices, they cry out to the crowd. "We're the corvid to your carrion! We're here to fight to the break of dawn!" The few people from Amity Park who could make the trek to the neighbouring city cheer back, cranking their noise makers and stomping their feet. The players charge in next, thrusting their helmets in the air. They have feathers paint on their cheeks.
A few Balmoral players snort, bumping elbows and pointing to the face paint. When the last Casper student runs onto the field, all of Balmoral turns to watch for the infamous mascot. No one comes.
"Ha!" Balmoral's linebacker, in the middle of the team huddle, shouts. It would seem that Casper's reputation isn't all it's cracked up to be.
The linebacker freezes, feeling a tap on his shoulder. He turns, slowly, and sees a boy wearing raven skull mask and a devilish grin.
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Look in the Mirror
Summary: As soon as Dan saw the mirrored ceiling in the back lounge of the tour bus, he knew he was in trouble.
Word Count: 3378
Warnings: smut, barebacking
A/N: Thanks to tumblr user, @7randomwords for the prompt! I suddenly got the urge to write this fic and ended up writing it in two hours which is a miracle considering I've been having writer's block! This is literally just an excuse to write shameless smut.
Read it on AO3
As soon as Dan saw the mirrored ceiling in the back lounge of the tour bus, he knew he was in trouble.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop thinking about lying on his back, head thrown back, eyes cast to the ceiling as Phil pounded him to oblivion into the seat cushions. There was something wrong with him. Phil was going to judge him so hard when he found out, would probably tease him for the rest of their lives.
But that wouldn’t stop him from trying, of course. The one thing that he’s learnt from being in a relationship with Phil was that hiding his ideas would get him nowhere, and would most likely upset Phil if he found out Dan was hiding information. On rare occasions, Phil may even have the same idea as he did.
He waited until they were on the road, the stars twinkling in the night sky from outside the windows. Phil was sat beside him, a notebook opened in front of him. He was writing something, his glasses perched on his nose, eyebrows cocked adorably. Dan always loved when Phil wore his glasses, giving him a sophisticated look that made Dan weak at the knees.
He turned to Phil, kissing down the side of his neck sweetly, in a questioning way that told Phil he could push him away if he wasn’t in the mood. But he didn’t do so, instead just cocked his head to the side and smiled, settling his notebook to the side. His fingers came up to caress Dan’s chin, tilting his head up so he could press their lips together.
“Someone’s being clingy,” Phil mused, his breath fanning over Dan’s lips and making him whine. He didn’t want to stop kissing, almost like Phil was a drug to him.
Thankfully, Phil let him kiss him some more, sliding their lips together until Dan was pushing Phil against the back of the couch and seating himself on his lap. Phil’s hands squeezed his hips and Dan’s own fingers curled into the hair at the base of Phil’s neck. His toes curled as Phil licked into his mouth, nipping at his lower lip.
Phil softened the kisses, could probably feel how Dan was already growing hard in his jeans, and then he was smiling against his lips. “Dan,” he murmured, nuzzling their noses together. He was probably looking at Dan from under his eyelashes, his eyes glittering like diamonds, but Dan wouldn’t know because his eyes felt like they were glued shut. His chest was pressing desperately into Phil’s, like he could explain what he wanted just by actions alone. “What got you all riled up? What do you want?”
He trailed his fingers up Dan’s shirt, his touch burning, and it took everything inside of Dan not to keen loudly. He had to remind himself that he couldn’t be loud, just in case the tour bus driver heard them. While they didn’t really try to hide their relationship around him, they didn’t exactly want him to hear something like this.
Dan groaned low in his throat, embarrassed that he was going to have to say it. He hid his face in Phil’s shoulder when he muttered, “want to look at the mirror when you fuck me.”
Phil chuckled, his hands soft as he trailed them down Dan’s back. “In the ceiling?” he asked. Dan hummed in agreement and Phil kissed the side of his head, fingers trailing lower until he was gripping Dan’s ass tightly, kneading his fingers into his cheeks. “You’d really like that?”
And who was Dan to deny just how much he’d like that? “Please,” he whispered, lifting his head and pressing their lips back together hotly. “Please, please, please.” He had no shame already, and it made Phil laugh, pulling away for a minute.
It seemed like he was trying to pull himself together, running a hand through his hair that was messy from Dan’s own hands. He looked intently at Dan, his eyes dark, cheeks pink, lips red and wet from kissing. His hair was swept off of his forehead and Dan was already a panting mess, even though they had barely even kissed yet. Phil had that effect on him, he always had, and he ended up deaging a bit, becoming that eighteen year old once more who would practically cum as soon as Phil got his hands on him.
Suddenly, Dan was being flipped, his world turning upside down, and then he was staring in shock at that very mirrored ceiling that he’d been daydreaming about for days. Phil was leaning over him, kissing over his neck, pushing his shirt off his collarbones so he could bite into them. Dan could feel his weight pressing into him, how Phil’s thigh was between Dan’s legs, rubbing against his aching dick.
Dan’s eyes fluttered as Phil pressed his thigh down, grinding it into Dan’s crotch and making him squeak a little. He clenched his teeth, trying to pull himself together and focus on how Phil was stripping him of his shirt, his hands running over the softness of his tummy, his tongue lapping at his skin as he went down, down, until he was encircling a nipple between his pretty pink lips.
The feeling made Dan lurch, arching off the couch to press closer to Phil’s blessed mouth. His dick pulsed with pleasure as Phil rolled the nub between his teeth, and he bit harshly on his lip to hold in his moans of pleasure.
He couldn’t stay quiet for long though, that was one of his downfalls. Dan had always been loud, outside of bed and in bed, and asking him to stay completely silent was like taking away his entire personality. “Please,” he whispered again, because apparently that was all that his mouth could conjure up anymore.
Phil’s lips came off of Dan’s nipple, and lapped over the other one quickly. “You’re so impatient,” he sighed, like he was dealing with a giant child. Maybe he was. “Good thing you’re so fucking cute.” He pecked Dan’s lips, his nose, his forehead, and Dan was going to murder him.
“If you don’t get your hands on me right now,” Dan growled, clawing at Phil’s shoulder blades, “I will murder you in your fucking sleep.”
Truth be told, he was all talk and no bite. He couldn’t even get the room to stop spinning from pleasure if he even wanted to. Phil knew that, which is why Dan wasn’t the least bit surprised when he opened his eyes to find Phil grinning cheekily above him.
“Is that so?” Phil asked, starting to settle back into the couch, away from Dan. Dan made a panicked noise and reached for him, making grabbing hands, and then Phil was back on him, licking into his mouth and unbuttoning his own shirt. “That’s what I thought.”
The shirt fell away from Phil’s shoulders, and Dan was finally able to run his hands down his smooth skin, could finally feel his bare chest pressed to his own. There was no other feeling better than naked skin against naked skin, in Dan’s opinion. So soft and warm, like a giant, sexual hug. Or something.
Sadly, Phil didn’t stay hovered over him for long. He started to shimmy down Dan’s body, kissing down his chest, biting at his stomach, and then he was unzipping Dan’s jeans and pushing them and his boxers past his hips (with some help from Dan, because they could never remove those suckers very easily).
Phil started to mouth at the crease of his hip, which made Dan scrunch his eyes shut and squirm a bit. His hands were exploring Dan’s thighs, pulling them apart further, until he was completely sat between them, his thumbs pressing into Dan’s skin everywhere that he could reach. His thumbs pressed down on the inside of his thighs, close to Dan’s painfully hard dick, and it made Dan’s breath hitch, a bead of precum glistening at the head.
“You’re so beautiful,” Phil breathed, and his mouth was so close to Dan’s cock that his brain completely short-circuited for a moment. His hips bucked, catching Phil’s bottom lip, smearing the precum there, and then Phil was tsking, holding his hips down and glaring at him as if he could look intimidating with a dick in front of his face. “Don’t be greedy, Dan. Be a good boy.”
The words sent a chill down Dan’s spine and he whimpered again, trying to buck up once more, but Phil’s hands pressed him into the couch, not letting him go anywhere. For a moment, they just stared at each other, Dan breathing hard as he laid there, completely helpless, and Phil with his thumbs pressing to the dip of Phil’s hips, breath hot against his length.
And then, Phil’s tongue was lapping at the tip, sucking off any precum that dripped down his length. It was like all of the breath punched out of Dan and he suddenly ascended straight to Heaven. Or Hell. Depends on how you look at it. Phil’s tongue definitely was a gift from the heavens, in Dan’s opinion. He took Dan’s length into his mouth, all hot and wet, his tongue licking along the veins in Dan’s cock. After dating for so long, Phil knew all of Dan’s weak spots, including the way it made his toes curl when Phil sucked particularly hard at the head, his finger rubbing at Dan’s hole. He didn’t do anything other than rub at the skin there, knowing that it could potentially hurt Dan if he tried to finger him like that, and he knew how much Dan liked the dry drag of his finger against his rim.
When he pulled off of Dan, there was a string of spit connecting them, and Phil’s lips were slightly puffy and cherry red. It was possibly the hottest thing Dan had ever seen.
“I need to get the lube,” Phil told him quietly, and Dan whined and squirmed, muttering something about just forgetting the damn lube, but they both knew he couldn’t do that. Due to the tour, it’d been too long since they’d done this, and Dan would no doubt be tighter than they’d need him to be in order for them to go dry.
So Dan let him go, thankful that Phil still had his trousers on and could just slip out of the lounge (closing the door behind him) without wasting more time putting back on his discarded clothing. He returned moments later, carrying a small, clear bottle with a blue label. It was half used, which made Dan raise his eyebrows. He didn’t recognise the bottle at all.
“Having fun by yourself, huh?” Dan teased while Phil quickly shed his jeans and boxers.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Phil shot back, and it didn’t make much sense to Dan in his turned on state, but he let it slide because Phil was settling back in between his thighs, spreading his legs, squeezing lube onto his fingers.
Dan dropped his knees wide open and pulled them up to his chest the best that he could, thanking the gods that he was more flexible than Phil was. It left him completely open, vulnerable, laid out for Phil to do whatever he wanted to him.
And then Phil was pushing in one finger, his eyes trained on Dan’s face as his jaw dropped open and his breath stuttered in his throat. “God Dan,” Phil murmured, dropping his head to the side so he was resting it on Dan’s thigh while he fingered him open. “You’re so tight now.”
Dan couldn’t say anything other than a small, “more,” that was more an intake of breath than anything else.
Phil fingered him for a moment longer before sliding in a second finger. He curled them carefully, kissing the inside of Dan’s knee, and then he was moving his fingers right against Dan’s prostate without question. That was another good thing about having sex with somebody for years. After a while, they know your body better than anybody else, could find your sweet spots like it was second nature.
Dan let out a desperate moan, ripped out of his chest like a lion had clawed its way out of his skin. Phil’s eyes snapped up to him and then he was moving, lightning fast, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Be quiet,” he hissed into Dan’s ear, biting the lobe between his teeth.
His fingers had stopped moving completely, which made Dan desperate. He clenched around him, trying to fuck himself back onto Phil’s fingers, but Phil slapped his hip.
“Be good,” he growled, and Dan stilled.
Finally, finally, Phil started moving again, fingers thrusting slowly, this time missing his prostate on purpose. Despite that, it was still addicting, possibly even more so, the anticipation making Dan quiver. A quick look above him at the mirror showed him that there was sweat beading on his own forehead and his chest was just as red as his cheeks, blotchy like he had a sunburn.
There were tears collecting in his eyes as Phil added another finger, the last one, and brushed along his prostate. To make matters worse - better? - Phil was lapping at the precum at his tip again, sending pleasure through his entire body, and Dan felt like he was going to actually explode. The pressure built, becoming nearly overwhelming, Phil’s fingers curling into that spot like he was trying to kill Dan, and just when Dan swore he was going to cum, Phil was pulling away.
The disappointed, muffled whine that escaped from Dan’s lips would be humorous if he didn’t look so god damned pitiful right then. He watched with half-lidded eyes as Phil slicked himself up, hand rubbing along his cock longer than necessary as his head fell back a little bit. Dan saw Phil’s tongue lick at his lips with pleasure and there was sweat on his brow which made Dan realise just how hot it was inside this room.
It was obvious what they were doing, but Dan couldn’t bring himself to care when Phil taking his hand away from Dan’s mouth to settle it on his knee, pulling his legs apart to settle in between them. His other hand stayed on his dick, guiding it to Dan’s ass, and Dan took in a deep breath as he guided the tip in.
The first push in was always the hardest, but one of Dan’s favourite things in the world. He loved the way it felt when Phil pushed inside of him, the slick drag pushing inside of him, the way it stretched him out, filled him up until he was gasping for air. It always made him immobile, his mouth falling open, head falling backwards onto the couch as he took in each inch.
Phil was pressing kisses to his lips, trying to ask him if he was okay without outright asking because Dan could never seem to conjure up a response whenever he was in this position. Only when Dan started to kiss back, his hands flying to the back of Phil’s thighs, did Phil start to move in earnest.
“Oh god,” Dan whimpered, trying to open his eyes, trying to look at himself, because that was the entire reason they were doing this in the first place.
Phil braced his arms on either side of Dan and slammed so hard into Dan that the couch made a disgustingly loud creaking noise. It also made Dan moan again, loudly, which made Phil answer in a growl. He shoved his fingers in Dan’s mouth to shut him up, and Dan took it upon himself to suck on those fingers.
Dan took everything that Phil gave him, allowed him to slam into him at a pace that should probably be painful, but which only caused extremely pleasure. His eyes were still wet, welling up with tears, and he pried his eyes open to stare up at the ceiling, swirling his tongue around Phil’s fingers in his mouth.
He wanted to curse, wanted to scream, because this was quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He could see everything. Could see Phil’s broad shoulders, his spine, the clench of his ass as he pushed inside of Dan. He could see the wetness of his eyes, the spit dripping from his lips from where Phil’s fingers were inside of his mouth. He watched, enraptured, as Phil fucked him, not used to being able to see it and feel it at the same time.
This time, he could see the way it made him feel when Phil fucked him just right. He could see the way his jaw fell slack when Phil hit his prostate, could see the way Phil braced his knees so he would be able to go harder, faster, deeper. He could see the way he just took everything, open and trapped and wanted.
He moaned around Phil’s fingers, his eyes rolling as Phil hit his sweet spot again, and then he was hitting it every single time he pushed in. His hips worked in tight circles, sliding hard over Dan’s swollen prostate, and he didn’t even care that Phil had his entire body weight trapping him to the couch, or that Phil was gasping into his ear. He didn’t care that he was whimpering, completely abandoning sucking on Phil’s fingers and just letting his mouth fall slack. At this point, he swore he could feel Phil’s cock all the way up in his stomach, in his chest.
There was an intense ache in his abdomen, one that told him he was going to cum soon. He could feel Phil’s cock harden ever more, could feel the way that his thrusts were turning erratic, and he knew that Phil was close as well.
Phil grunted, taking his fingers out of Dan’s mouth and putting both of his hands on Dan’s hips. He used the grip to push harder into Dan, the force making Dan’s back scrape against the couch. Dan’s fingernails dug into Phil’s shoulders, and he could hardly breathe, his entire body feeling hot and shaky. Phil wasn’t even touching him and he was pretty sure he was going to have the best orgasm of his life.
He kept his eyes open and to the ceiling as Phil gave a few more thrusts, and then he stilled, and Dan saw the clench of his ass muscles as he came into Dan, could feel the warm cum spilling inside of him. It was the visual along with the feeling of Phil peaking that made Dan reach his own orgasm.
He let his eyes fall closed and he opened his mouth to moan but nothing came out. He could feel the slick slide of Phil’s cock pushing inside of him, riding out both of their orgasms. His body was tingling, his head wonderfully blank as he spilled onto his own stomach untouched, something that hadn’t happened for years.
Phil collapsed on top of him, uncaring about the mess on Dan’s stomach, and it was that which made Dan come back to reality. He groaned, finally acknowledging that his hips were aching, that there were probably going to be bruises there from where Phil had gripped him. Phil tried to curl into his chest, probably wanting to sleep, but Dan moved and pushed him off his chest, onto the floor of the tour bus.
“No cuddles until we’re clean and clothed,” Dan told Phil firmly, ignoring Phil’s whines. “I was already loud enough and I don’t want to scar the bus driver even more.”
That got Phil to shut up, to stand and find a box of tissues on a small table in the corner. He took his time cleaning up Dan, pressing kisses to his face, dragging the tissue through the mess on Dan’s stomach and on his ass until there was only a small amount of residue left. Dan was definitely going to have to shower.
They didn’t talk until they finished getting dressed. Only then, did Phil say with a smirk, “we’re going to have to invest in some mirrored ceilings.”
Dan couldn’t even argue with him.
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