Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom – I never have and I never will, simple as that. You know exactly what would happen if I owned Danny--oh wait, it did happen! Silly me. ;)

Author's Note: Here it is, the final chapter of Phantom Romance, a story based on the LiveJournal community 30romances. I have successfully completed all thirty prompts, and I am amazed that I was able to do so. (There's a longer author's note at the end.)

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The Devil's Advocate - advocate: an intercessor or defender; one who pleads the cause of another. In this situation, it's pleading the case for someone who has done something wrong in the eyes of another.


030 : Danny's Advocate

Rating : R

Theme : 21. The Devil's Advocate ; advocatus diaboli

July 27, 2007


"Daniel Fenton!"

Why the hell did he try and come in the front door? Oh, right, if he left, and then randomly showed up in his room would be bad; sure, his parents knew about his ghost powers, but they didn't treat him any differently than a regular teenage boy.

"Where have you been? Do you know what time it is?"

A regular teenage boy, with regular teenage hormones.

"Well?" the voice sounded in his ears again. Finally looking over to his mother, he knew he was in deep shit.

Trying to figure out a lie off the top of his head, he came up with, "I fell asleep! I'm sorry."

"You fell asleep? Weren't you over at Sam's house?" she asked, anger still seeping into her voice. "Danny, it's three o'clock in the morning. I was worried sick!"

"You could have called my–" pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he realized that it was on silent, with about twenty missed calls. "Oh."

"'Oh,' is right, young man. Now, if you don't tell me the truth, I'm going to have to get your father involved, and you and I both know that will be a great mess."

"Mom, I'm telling the truth! We were just, uh, hanging out, and then, when the movie got boring, I fell asleep."

"When a boy is with his girlfriend and a movie gets boring, he would not fall asleep," she gave him a look, knowing full-well what she was insinuating. "I know you're a healthy young man–"

"Mom, oh for the love of God, please–"

"–and Sam is a very beautiful girl, so it wouldn't hurt to assume–"

"Mom, please stop," he pleaded, hoping to get his mother to stop talking about whatever sex life he may of may not have had––to her, at least.

"Are you going to tell me the truth, then?"

"I promise, Mom, what I told you was the truth," he tried to muster a smile that didn't look nervous, and it didn't sit well with her.

"You fell asleep after watching a boring movie," she dead-panned, giving him a look. "It's the summer, and you have gotten plenty of sleep, I don't know what in the world–"

"But, mom!" he whined, far from how a eighteen-year-old should act towards his mother.

"No, 'but's,' out of you, young man. I want you to go up to your room and go to bed. Tomorrow, I'll decide what type of punishment would be best for this situation. Should I make your father give you "The Talk" again? Or, should I tell him what you were out doing?"

"Nothing happened!" he lied.

"Nonetheless, you did break curfew, and that by itself is grounding. Just..." she yawned, painfully aware of what time it was. "Just go to bed and we'll deal with this tomorrow."

"All right," he replied, defeated and exhausted, and trudged up the stairs to his room to retire for the night.


The next morning, after Sam had called her boyfriend's phone repeatedly with no avail, she headed over to his house; probably because he was either still sleeping for forgot to take his cell phone off of silent, knowing him. At eleven o'clock in the morning, she figured at least someone would be up in the Fenton household–she highly doubted it was Danny, though. Having been known to be his wake-up call on occasion, his family never minded her coming over to harass him out of slumber.

Standing on the front stoop of the Fenton residence, she rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer. After about a minute or so, the door swung open to reveal Mrs. Fenton, geared up, with her goggles on.

"Sorry to interrupt lab work, but I was just wondering if Danny was around? I think he forgot to take his phone off silent again," Sam said.

"Oh, he's around, but he's grounded for coming in so late. Sam," she chastised softly, pushing back her goggles to view the young girl more clearly, "you really should watch the time!" She let the young girl in, of course, and Sam shut the door behind her. "He said he fell asleep in the middle of a boring movie and lost track of the time. Is that true?"

Feeling that it was her fault for him getting home so late (she was the one to recommend one last romp), she tried to save his ass the best she could. "Mrs. Fenton, I'm sorry... it's my fault for him getting in so late." She tried to think of something that would pass off as a good enough story, "After somehow picking the most boring movie to watch in the history of movies, we fell asleep. I think he left the part out about us falling asleep together on the basement couch probably because it would sound wrong, like we actually did... something else, rather than watch the movie, you know? He would probably wind up getting himself in trouble if he tried to explain that one."

"Yes, he probably would," Maddie replied, feeling somewhat bad, now, for being so harsh to her son when he came home that morning.

"Despite the fact that it's summer, and how I generally sleep until the late afternoon, your son was too nice of a pillow to pass up," she smiled, seeing the warmth in the other woman's eyes, who could relate to her own snugly teddy bear.

"Oh, well, that's definitely understandable," she smiled, giggling to herself, waving a hand in a 'pee-shaw' gesture.

"And when I woke up first, I glanced at my phone and saw that it was two-fifty-five in the morning, and I woke him up quickly and sent him home."

"Oh, that's fine, dear," she waved off the young girl again, then nodded up in the direction of her son's room. "He's still sleeping. Go up and tell him he's not grounded anymore, all right?"

"Of course, Mrs. Fenton," she smiled, then went up the stairs to her boyfriend's room.

Opening the door slightly, she peered into the room before going in entirely to see if he was awake or not. Sleeping, Danny was sprawled out on the bed as he normally slept, snoring lightly. Raking her eyes up and down his long frame, she noticed something–one of her favorite things–that needed some attention immediately. She closed the door behind her, locking it; she hoped no one would barge in as a plan formulated in her head.

Walking over to his bed, she leaned down, planting a light kiss on his forehead as a tender gesture––his snoring ceased immediately. Kneeling on the bed, she lifted one leg around his body, straddling his waist, facing in the opposite direction, towards his feet. She knew he wouldn't be able to sleep through the excess pressure on his lower abdomen, so she swiftly began to execute her task. Tugging at the waistband of his pajama bottoms, she pulled them down, glorified and giddy at the fact he didn't wear any boxers to bed that night. Grasping his morning wood, she began stroking it lightly; Sam, however, making the mistake, of not looking behind her to see whether or not he was fully awake.

Strong arms snaked around her waist and pulled her backwards so that she was lying back on Danny's bare chest, his breath hot on her ear, "What do you think you're doing, miss? I do believe that you got your share last night. Four times, if I remember correctly."

Choosing a different line of approach, she said, "What were you dreaming of? That's a powerful erection you have going," She spoke softly, just in case anyone would be passing by his door and could hear, a cheeky grin gracing her features.

"Who else would I be dreaming of?" he replied smoothly, kissing her cheek.

"That's a good question," she replied, comfortable in his arms, though excited, herself.

"How did you get in here? Quite stealthily, I might add, with the extra added bonus of getting my pants down without help or warning?" he asked, watching his hand trail down her abdomen and underneath the waistband of her black sweat pants she had chosen to wear.

"Your phone is still on silent," she started, then tilted her head backwards to make eye contact as his fingers stroked her. "I came over to check up on you, to ask if you could still walk, and all that wonderful business. I figured you were still tired out from last night. That movie," she put extra emphasis on the falseness of that word in relation to what actually happened, "really wore me out; so, I figured it wore you out, too."

"You wanted more," he responded huskily, rubbing her clit in circular motions, giving her just what she wanted. "Don't lie."

"That may be true," she mumbled, biting her lip and arching her back at the building pleasure.

"But?" he asked, continuing his ministrations, though quicker.

"I saved your ass in the process," she breathed, biting her bottom lip again to bite back a moan. "I explained to your mom that it was my fault and that we just lost track of the time since we fell asleep on the couch."

"Four times?"

"Falling asleep can be our coined phrase to get ourselves out of trouble."

"Do you think they'd start believing we have narcolepsy with how much we suddenly fall asleep together? That, quite possibly, what one of us has it contagious and long-lasting? A sickness?" he questioned, having the upper hand in this situation quite literally.

"Who cares," she said, seeking out his lips to capture with her own. "If this is a sickness, I promise you I will make sure no one finds the cure."

"Good," he grinned, kissing her lips passionately. Switching positions, Danny on top, he made haste and tugged off her sweat pants and underwear, claiming her as his own yet again. "Thanks for getting me un-grounded, too. I owe you one."

"How about you owe me four? Five?"

"How about I owe you for life and we'll take it as it comes?"

"Deal."


End Note: Holy shit, I finished! This is amazing, since I normally just skive off projects after a certain amount of time since I lose interest, but surprisingly, I haven't. Go me. But yeah, I can't believe it's been a year-and-a-half since I began writing this. The first chapter is really depressing, and I wish I didn't start out with something that depressing, but whatever, it's how it is right now, and it can't change. However, I am planning on going through all of these chapters and editing them. I've caught a few errors here and there, and I try to check them when I can, but sometimes they just slip past my vision and I forget eventually.

I'm also planning on editing "Ten Things a Sweet Guy Would Do" for the fact that I wrote that a long time ago, and my writing skills have (hopefully) improved since then. So, yes, I am going to go through that story, since I have to, in order to write the sequel. I need a refresher, one would say.

Just so you know what to look out for, the next collection of stories I'm going to be writing (alongside the sequel of "Ten Things..." and possibly the next chapter to "Smother Me") is 10snuggles (which are going to be sappy, fluffy, and overly sweet, titled: Phantom Snuggles. You know, to keep the titles alike and whatnot.

Please review, it makes me excited when I see them in my inbox. Also, they make me feel loved. Love me! I'm so glad this collection of one-shots has done so well! Thank you, everyone, who has reviewed and will review. You all make me so happy.

- A