Disclaimer: As you guessed it, I still do not own Danny Phantom or anything related. I do have some merchandise, but that's just about it.

Author's Note: I don't know where this idea came from, other than the inspiration of a few songs I have been listening to on repeat for the past hour or so. I hope everyone enjoys this, and please drop a line to let me know what you think. Also, I signed up for two more challenges, but dropped an older one that wouldn't have worked out as well as it would've a while ago. By the way, can we complain loudly to someone how we can't use dashes and underscores on this website at all without them disappearing? Sweet, man.

Special Dedication: This story, first and foremost, is dedicated to Lacey52, whose birthday is today. She has been my friend for over a year, now, and she's an amazing person who is adored by many with her wonderful talent. When I realized her birthday was coming up, I felt the urge to show her how much I adore her, the big sweetheart she is. I hope you have a wonderful birthday, and I hope you enjoy your gift. I tried to make it longer than what I've written lately, so we'll see how it goes. Happy Birthday, darling!


Rating: PG-13 (Light R, maybe?)

September 29, 2007

Sighing, she put down the pen that she had held in her loose grasp. Looking down at the blank piece of paper, she frowned. Through the jumbled mess that was her emotions, nothing steady could filter through to the paper in coherent sentences the way she wanted it to. Every thought would wander back to him and, even though she didn't always need to think of him, she felt dazed by the fact that she couldn't get him out of her head. She was an individual that had different priorities in her life as well as other things to mull over day after day. He would eventually be around to visit her; she couldn't be so reliant on him all the time to be there. Every time she tried to do something that pertained to just herself, she would somehow stare off into space and think about everything that had happened in either the past or what she wished to occur in the future. Her mind always seemed light-years away from the present.

She knew that he had a very busy life that she couldn't just stomp on whenever she felt like being the center of attention, the primary focus of his life.

She hoped she was on his mind half as much as he was on hers.

She was always worried, always waiting to see if he was all right. Battles, physically and mentally, always struck chords deep within her. She loved him so deeply. She knew that if something serious had happened to him, her strong reserve would crumble and fall. She sighed at that thought, trying to force herself to think of something happier, just something else. She tried not to blush as she remembered their last encounter; they hadn't left her room for hours, and each one of those hours were definitely well spent.

"What're you thinking about?" a disembodied, yet jovial, voice chimed to her left, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"What?" she turned to the sound, knowing exactly where he was without even seeing him.

"Never mind," she could nearly see the smile in his voice. He made an obvious pause, then scoffed, "How in the hell do you manage to make eye contact with me every single time, even when I'm intangible?"

"Ah," she shrugged, stretching her arms out behind her, not being able to see as Danny's eyes darted to her midriff which was being exposed by her stretch. "I'm just that good. Stop staring," she chastised, giving him a look, though smirking.

"How in the–" he stopped suddenly, not wanting to get himself in hot water.

"What're you doing here? Done with your rounds? Your chat with the President? Magazine photo-shoots? Newspaper interviews? Movie auditions?"

"You're just tacking on random things at the end to make me sound busier than I actually am," he came into view now, hovering three feet in the air.

She shrugged nonchalantly, rolling back her chair to give herself room to get up. Making her way over to him, she smiled softly, reaching out for him, "I've missed you." Transforming back to his human form, he softly touched the ground as he descended from the air. She knew he missed just being an average human once and a while, so she let him indulge.

His gaze softened as he reached a hand out slowly to push a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You have no idea how much I've missed you." Leaning down to close the distance between them, he placed a tender kiss upon her lips, savoring the taste that could only be her. He pulled her closer, reveling in her warmth.

Pulling away after a while, she looked up at him with a somber, fragile look in her eyes that almost broke his heart.

"What's wrong?" he asked, cupping her cheek with his hand, tenderly stroking it with his thumb.

"Is this going to be routine?" she whispered, trying to search for an answer in his eyes. She sighed softly, averting her eyes briefly before looking back at him.

Figuring in his luck with girls, Danny figured that his relationship with Sam would last, tops, three months. He figured that he would do something to fuck everything up, and when the time came, he would grin and bear it as she pranced off with someone much better than he was. However, when six months rolled around, and then a year went by, and then two . . . he was mystified at his luck. He could only hope that it stuck.

When they had started dating, nothing monumental wound up changing. All that had changed was the hesitation, the longing, sad glances full with either despair or awkwardness. There were no more "fake-out make-outs," since every kiss from then on out was real. However, when the whole "saving the world" thing happened, his life changed drastically, and he wasn't sure if it was for better or for worse.

"I hope not," he replied truthfully, sighing as well. "This has been hell for me, to be honest," he drank in the violet of her eyes. "When I have so much . . . so much crap to do, and when I can't just break away to see you, or you have classes, and . . . shit just hits the fan, basically. Do you think I can take a vacation?" he smiled weakly, hoping what he was saying was coming out right. "I wish things were different sometimes. Sometimes I wish that everyone didn't know my alter-ego, you know? The seduction of sneaking around is so much better than . . . being displayed to the world as some sort of trophy."

Sam nodded, taking in what he was saying. It didn't happen often that they had a heart-to-heart, and though actions spoke louder than words at times . . . when he spoke, she listened.

"I just want to be with you, happy, like this, forever," he pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face into the crook of her neck. Inhaling deeply, he allowed a lazy smile to grow on his face.

"Forever?" she whispered, suddenly in awe with his words.

"Too soon?" he mumbled against her neck. He placed feather-like kisses where his lips rested, then moved up her neck and underneath her jaw.

"Not long enough," she smiled, securing her hand underneath his chin, pulling his lips to her own as she met him in a deeper kiss than before. Taking a handful of his shirt, she tugged him in the direction of her bed as she stepped backwards. As she felt the backs of her knees hit the side of her bed, she leaned back, pulling him down with her as they met the bed, still kissing. Tongues dueled for dominance; hands roamed, felt, and groped, trying to find something that neither one of them knew they were looking for.

The weight of his body pressed slightly against her made her feel secure; it made her feel protected. Moving her hands to the hem of his T-shirt, she hooked her fingers underneath the edge and tugged upwards, only breaking the kiss for less than five seconds to tear the shirt from his body and allow it to pool carelessly onto the floor. His hands grew bolder, as they always did, with each passing moment. Pulling a little trick of his own, he focused spectral energy into his hand as he phased her shirt off of her.

Feeling the cool air of her room around her hit her skin, she broke the kiss reluctantly, but with a hesitant smile on her face. He knew this sign immediately, and began to apologize profusely, reaching around her bed to find the shirt he had just carelessly tossed aside.

"I'm so–"

"Please," she hushed, covering his mouth lightly with the tips of her fingers. "I don't want you to get the idea that when I see you, from now on, all we're going to do is . . . "

"Make love," he finished, inwardly beaming at the smile she gave him at using those words.

"Yes," she said. "I've just missed you so much, and I know you have to go soon," she cut him off as he made a move to speak, "and, don't even try to deny that you do, I know you." He pouted childishly, but stayed silent. "I just want you to," she blushed again, "lay with me, hold me tonight."

"Do I have to put my–scratch that–your shirt back on?" he asked, mischief in his eyes.

"We could lay in the nude for all I'd care, I just want to be with you," she said. "I know it's crazy to forego sex–"

"Making love," he corrected with a smile.

"–making love, but that's what it's been every time I've seen you for the past week, and I want to actually talk to you, see how the love of my life is doing. You know, that stuff."

He nodded, understanding what she was getting at. At her earlier words, he took them to be more literal than figurative, and reached down to undo the fly of his jeans. Seeing where this was going, Sam tugged her skirt off, tossing it aside, wherever the hell her shirt wound up. Pulling back the blankets, she slid underneath, then popped the clasp to her bra, followed by her underwear. Following suit, Danny slid underneath the covers of her queen-sized bed, then took off his boxers.

"I love you," he mumbled, pulling her into his arms, resting his head atop hers.

She smiled and breathed a contented sigh, closing her eyes. "I love you, too."

"What were you doing when I came in?" he asked, not even bothering glancing over at her desk which was strewn with papers, pens, notebooks, and homework she was procrastinating on. "Drawing?"

"No," she said, snuggling against him, "I was trying to write. I think I was aiming for poetry, but I couldn't get this damned ghost out of my mind for the life of me."

"You know, you could always write about said 'damned ghost,'" he jeered, nudging her softly.

"I've written notebooks full about this ghost, as well as his human counterpart," she responded.

"Really?" he asked, dropping the little act that they started. "Would you ever let me read some of it sometime?"

"It's really not all that good," she tried to defend herself from having to show him, but failed.

"Sam, if it's written by you, I'm sure it's great," he said encouragingly. "Besides, it's just me."

"That's the thing, it's just you, the person who is the subject of many things I write, draw, and paint. I don't know if I'll ever be able to get you out of my head," she replied, turning her head slightly to gauge the look on his face.

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"Sometimes I'm definitely not sure; though, for the most part, you are a great source of inspiration," she smirked, kissing his cheek.

"Well," he said, taking hold of her left hand and lacing his fingers through hers. He felt the ring he had given to her two years ago pressing up against his knuckle. Taking on a different route of conversation, he smiled, "You still wear this religiously. Even though you're not a gold or a turquoise person, you still wear this."

"Yeah, so?"

"If you say yes, I have a better one waiting for you at my house," he mumbled against her hair.

"Danny, knock it out, it's not funny," she scolded softly, nudging him a little harder than he had nudged her.

"Who said I was trying to be funny?"

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" he asked, confused.


"You're awfully specific, there," he replied quickly, wondering where she was going with this argument.

"We're only in college, and you're . . . you're . . . "

"I'm asking you to marry me," he mumbled. "I was going to ask you as we basked in the afterglow, but the topic came up so I had to jump at the chance."

"Aw, you should've waited until we were basking in the afterglow, that would've been extremely romantic," she jokingly whined, smiling at him.

He kissed her. "We'll see how next time goes, then. Maybe I'll have better luck."

"Wait, I didn't say no," she said, suddenly very edgy. She wondered if he thought she rejected his proposal. "But, we're so young."

"Engaged to be engaged?" he suggested weakly, wondering if that would suffice.

"I'll take it," she grinned, kissing him fully on the mouth, moving their positions to straddle his waist. "Care to bask in the afterglow?"

"I thought you didn't want to . . . " he trailed off, looking confused, as usual.

"I have better inspiration to do so, now," she replied, planting small kisses on his forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, neck, and surrounding areas. Everywhere but his lips.

"Going to make a masterpiece out of this?" he grinned impishly at her, wiggling his eyebrows. "Oof," he grunted as jumped on top of him, pushing the air from his lungs.

"That's what you get," she responded, resting her hands on his chest for balance. Leaning down, she kissed him passionately, pushing herself up against him, his hands immediately finding a resting place on her posterior. He may be a busy guy, but he knew how to make up for lost time, and do it well.

No wonder why she couldn't write about her experiences with him without making them sound frivolous, insignificant, or even somewhat trashy. Actions speak much, much louder than words, and that's all that counts.

End Note: What do you think? I haven't written something this long in a while; granted, I was trying to get a bit more substance in this, I decided to keep it aligned with certain events happening at the end of the series.

Review and tell me what you thought!

- A