Chapter Text
Danny stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, wincing at the steady reddening on his shoulder. It looked inconspicuous enough for now, but he knew that in only a few days it would be standing out in alarmingly obvious blues, purples and blacks.
The cuts and scrapes along his arms, on the other hand, posed a more immediate problem.
He reached for the bandages on the counter a little too quickly, eyes trailing the droplets of blood that had dripped from his wounds onto the blue rug in front of the sink.
“Crap,” he muttered to himself, pausing what he was doing and soaking the corner of his hand towel. He threw it on top of the stain-to-be and started wrapping his arms before he left any more evidence.
A hurried knock on the bathroom door jolted him, his elbow knocking the bandage roll off the counter.
“Danny, sweetie, what are you doing in there?” Maddie asked through the door. “Breakfast is getting cold.”
“Uh-sorry! I’ll… I’ll be out in a minute,” he sputtered nervously.
“Maddie! Get down here! The ghost boy’s on the news again!” Jack boomed from downstairs. “He wrecked the bowling alley!”
Danny rolled his eyes as he scrubbed the blood out of the rug. As usual, he was getting pinned for something he was trying to prevent—an unappreciated effort that had nearly gotten him sliced in half.
At least that was somewhat normal. Having to bandage wounds that should have healed by the time he got home, however, was a new chink in an ever-worsening string of bad luck.
“Danny, you are not going to skip breakfast again,” Maddie warned him through the door.
He frowned at the stubborn pink spot in the rug, but decided it was small enough and discolored enough that his mom wouldn't notice. He wiped off the counter, threw the towel in the hamper, and tossed the bandage roll and medical scissors in the cabinet under the sink.
Everything clean, he gave himself one last look-over in the mirror. His last task was the small bruise under his left eye. It was a few days old and had already taken on a purplish color. He reached into Jazz’s makeup drawer, getting her coverup and foundation. In the last three months, he had been forced to figure out how to use her makeup to hide the various injuries he received and was impressed with how well it worked. He had to apply quite a bit to hide the darker portions of the bruise, but by the time he finished, he looked passable. He put the long-sleeved shirt he had laid on the side of the counter back over his head. It wasn’t the best solution to hide his other injuries, but he couldn’t walk downstairs in a t-shirt with his arms looking the way they did. He took in a big breath, gave himself an encouraging look, then unlocked the bathroom door and headed downstairs.
Breakfast plates were already made and set out on the table, so he took the nearest open seat and slunk into it.
Despite his attempt at subtlety, his presence seemed to immediately draw his mother’s attention.
“Danny, are you feeling sick?”
He looked up from his plate at his mother, her sharp violet eyes locked onto him.
“What? No... What?"
“You know it’s going to hit the high 90’s today, right?” she asked, gesturing at his shirt..
It was innocent enough, but Danny felt a pang of panic. Granted, his outfit was suspiciously out of season, but up until recently, he had never been the object of the gaze his mother was currently giving him. At least not in this form.
His parents were usually so preoccupied with their inventions that he could probably shave his head without much of a glance his way, but things had been different lately.
"I'm just a little cold. I’m fine, though,” he tried to assure her, smiling to further sell his lie.
“You’re not getting mono, are you?” his mother asked with concern, searching gaze melting into warm sweetness as she approached with an outstretched palm to feel his forehead.
He dodged her, twisting his head away. “I’m fine, mom,” he insisted.
“It is a little cool in the house,” Jazz commented from behind a psychology textbook she'd had her nose buried in. She had been the only thing Danny could count on to be consistent recently, casually going to bat for him without realizing how much she was actually helping.
“He’s being dramatic,” Jack snapped, eyes fixed on the TV. “If he wants attention, he can stop acting out and ask for it.”
The air fell dead in the kitchen and the room stilled, Jack's tone still echoing down the spines of the other Fenton's.
Maddie broke the silence first, voice firm and imploring as she said, “Jack, there might be something serious going on. He shouldn’t be cold this often." She turned her attention to Danny again and donned her motherly voice. “Let me take your temperature, sweetie. You’re probably getting sick.”
“I already took it. It was normal,” he lied.
“Well, you’re not cold for no reason. Maybe we should take you to see the doctor.”
“Quiet!” Jack suddenly bellowed. The room jolted. The eldest Fenton seemed to be glaring at the TV, watching Danny’s alter ego go back and forth with Skulker. The fight had been a nasty one, Danny not being at his best given he was fighting with bothersome wounds, and he and Skulker had unfortunately done quite a bit of damage to a few buildings. Danny was most saddened by the collapsing of the bowling alley’s roof. He liked bowling.
“When I get my hands on that menace…” Jack muttered steamily. "The whole town will see what a danger he is."
Danny didn’t miss the way Maddie’s eyes, too, fixed to the image of him on the screen, forgetting him entirely.
Jazz looked up from her book. Despite the no-doubt righteous speech she clearly wanted to lecture them all with, she spoke reservedly, “Did it never… you know… cross your minds that maybe Phantom isn’t… isn’t an enemy? I mean… he fights other ghosts. He keeps the infestations low. Maybe-”
Jack didn’t let her finish, slamming his fist so suddenly down onto his own plate that he shattered it.
“Jack!” Maddie exclaimed.
He ignored her, pointing a finger at Jazz, and then switching it between his two children to make sure his point was taken by both. “That’s what it wants you to think. That’s how they lower your guard and prey on you. That one-” he pointed at Phantom on the screen- “is the best liar of its kind. Did you just forget that it caused thousands in damage to the town, tried to kill your mother and I, and took the mayor hostage?”
Danny grit his teeth, eyes fixed to his untouched plate to avoid the angry heat emanating from his father. Jazz, too, withered under his furious stare.
Maddie’s motherly sweetness hardened. “Jack. Living room. Now.”
Jack’s gaze rose to hers, the anger in them unrelenting as he stood to his full height, the man’s mountainous form towering over that of his wife's.
Neither of the Fenton children had ever seen Jack withstand a standoff with Maddie, much less push his own will against her like opposing magnets.
Something faint and indiscernible, however, fractured the tension before it could reach critical mass.
“Fine. Let’s talk,” he sneered, walking out of the kitchen.
Maddie went to follow when the doorbell rang. She let out an exasperated huff. “Danny, get the door. And eat your breakfast.”
Danny sighed, pushing away from the table and his very likely cold breakfast at this point and dragging himself to the front door. He caught his parents talking in barely subdued, terse tones as he passed. Danny paused for a second as Jack jabbed an aggressive finger into Maddie’s chest, sneering something to her, and as he did, a little green glow, no bigger than a golf ball, flitted out of Jack’s shoulder before phasing back in.
He didn’t know what it was; had never seen it before until three months ago, but it seemed to have an idea who, and what, Danny was. When he’d first seen it, he had tried everything he could think of to purge it from the house, but what had started as a simple nuisance had rapidly turned into an urgent danger.
At first, Jack had just been a little irritable, but after a while, it became erratic and constant; to the point where almost anything could set him off into a furious tirade. All the while, the little ghost seemed to make sure Danny knew it was there and that it was the culprit. It made a game out of letting Danny think he could catch it, but every attempt Danny made, the ghost always seemed to be one step ahead of him. It never revealed itself when his family wasn’t around and it didn’t seem to need to be actively possessing his dad to influence his mood.
It also seemed to know to avoid his friends. He had enlisted their help several times in his attempts to catch it, but it always vanished when they showed up.
As his dad got worse, he had gotten desperate enough to gamble on telling Maddie that he thought Jack was being haunted, and, to his surprise, she had been inclined to believe him.
But even she never found any trace of it.
Danny glowered under his brow as he watched the little ghost fly in and out of his father’s head and shoulders like he was playground, turning away sullenly as he opened the front door.
The figure that greeted him had Danny groaning, loudly and pointedly.
Vlad Masters smiled pleasantly at him. “Good morning, Daniel. A little warm for a sweater, isn’t it?”
“Says the guy who always wears black suits,” Danny replied dully.
“Ooo, however will I recover from such a scathing critique,” Vlad quipped.
Danny rolled his eyes and stepped aside. "Either come in or go away. I’m not in the mood.”
Vlad stepped inside, patting Danny’s shoulder, right on a bruise. He sucked in a sharp breath and ducked away from him.
Vlad cocked a brow at the response, retracting his hand and giving Danny a subtle once-over. Whatever conclusion he came to, he kept to himself, turning his attention to that of Danny’s parents across the room, who had paused their argument to acknowledge him.
“Maddie, Jack! How are the both of you this morning?”
“Not now. We’re talking,” Jack snapped, mocking the last word with an exaggerated rise in tone.
“I see. I’ll wait in the kitchen,” Vlad replied unconcernedly. “Daniel, perhaps you should come along as well. I smell breakfast. Have you eaten?”
Danny bit the inside of his lip as Vlad placed a hand on his bruised shoulder again, but with his parents so close, made no protest as the millionaire guided him towards the kitchen.
Jazz looked up as they entered, head lifting out of the palm she’d dropped it in and seeming to brighten slightly at Vlad’s presence.
“Good morning, Mr. Masters,” Jazz said, a little more pep in her voice.
“Good morning, Jasmine,” Vlad greeted pleasantly as he led Danny to his seat and took the chair beside him. He glanced at her plate, giving a little playful frown. “Were the eggs undercooked? Seems no one has eaten their breakfast.”
Jazz acknowledged her plate with a weak smile. “Oh, um. No, we–.”
“HE’S LYING!” Jack snapped from the living room. Everyone at the kitchen table froze, ears perked as Jack stormed through the living room and stomped down the steps to the lab. Though the argument in the living room had abruptly gone down a few octaves at Maddie’s forceful snap, the heated tones were impossible to miss.
When she joined them in the kitchen, her expression was stoic, almost tellingly neutral as she grabbed up the plates off of the table, regardless of whether there was food on them or not, and took them to the sink to clean them.
Vlad pursed his lips in thought before addressing the three Fentons. “I haven’t yet had breakfast. Would the three of you care for an outing? My treat, of course.”
Maddie stopped the chore she hadn’t even really been doing to look at him. “Actually, that would be great. I think I may have overcooked the eggs this morning,” she commented as she scraped uneaten eggs and toast into the disposal in the sink.
Danny’s frown deepened and he groaned internally. The last thing he wanted to do was spend his morning playing nice with Vlad, but, and he could hardly believe he was thinking this, it was better than being around his dad.
I'm writing this between classes, but the vast majority of this fic is either completed and being edited or planned already.
As mentioned in the synopsis, I'll add tags to their respective chapters as they come up, but keep in mind this story gets into some dark themes throughout.