Disclaimer: I own nothing. Butch Hartman, the crazy genius, owns it all.

Author's Note: I've been obsessed with this song, "Drumming" by Florence + The Machine because it reminds me of Danny and Sam (well, Sam about Danny) and I thought I'd write something about it that reflects how I view the song with them in mind. Short and sweet.

Rekindle: A Series of One-shots
August 31, 2011

Sam Manson wouldn't call herself an obsessive person. Others would call her passionate and determined, possibly to the point of annoyance, but never obsessive—as much as Tucker would beg to differ.

There was one thought she couldn't shake, no matter how many times she tried to distract herself. To make herself forget about the drumming in her head…

It wasn't a headache, nor was it something she could will to happen. It just happened.

At first it wasn't a problem. She chalked it up to stress and closed the book on the topic, thinking nothing of it. It took her months to give in to the drumming, to question its presence or acknowledge the fact that it even existed.

When she detected the trigger of the drumming, what made it begin and rage on, it became evident; Sam felt sick, swaying and allowing her head to contact her locker with a loud thud upon impact. She had it bad.

Tucker had asked, worried that it was her lady problems acting up again, but once she expressed her problem, in five concise words… he understood. He already knew, but to a lesser degree. It wasn't a crush anymore. It was a lot deeper than she had initially bargained for.

Danny had approached unknowing, yawning—was he always yawning?—after yet another late night patrolling the town. Sam would later accuse him of creeping up on her on purpose.

He dropped his head on her shoulder from behind, sighing in exhaustion. "Give me five minutes." His other hand was at the small of her back, underneath her backpack.

"You only have about two before first bell rings," Sam responded, trying her hardest not to jump out of her skin. Her nerves were on fire, electric currents shooting through each and every one of them.

The drumming was louder than ever, clanging and bashing and… how could he not notice it? It was ramming against her ribcage, threatening to smash her into a million pieces. Wasn't it deafening?

"You're warm. You've always been such a good pillow."

Fireworks exploded in her chest along with the drumming. She felt as if she could go into cardiac arrest at this point. She looked at Tucker in alarm. Could Tucker hear the drumming? He could vouch that she wasn't crazy, but could he actually hear?

Tucker could only watch on with an amused look on his face. From his point of view, he knew Danny was less of a lost cause than Sam made him out to be. The Goth would only need to be a little more patient.

She was good at that, though. He wasn't worried.