A/N- So, this is some more Sam x Danny fluff. Writer's block relief because I can't get through the next chapter in SitD. Which, should be updated soon.

Warning- Unrestrained fluff.

Disclaimer- I don't own Danny Phantom.

Air is a complicated substance. You breathe it, plants repel it. It's made of all of these substances that you wouldn't live without. Oxygen, Helium, Carbon Dioxide, Hydrogen; it's all in there. It fills your lungs and filters through your body and keeps you going. Humans need the stuff to survive, and ghosts don't need it at all.

He's a halfa; he doesn't have this problem. I'm not like him, I do.

He may not need to breathe all the time, might not really need all the air he takes into his body, he might not even feel it when he doesn't have it, but I do. I need every ounce of air that I pull through me, I can't live without it. He can, he can afford a few lost breaths. I can't.

So, when he gives me that lopsided grin that's meant only for me; my body has to tell me that I need that air I'm not getting. Or, when he randomly comes up and hugs me from behind, and my lungs struggle for air that I'm not giving them. And, when I do breathe, the air's so tangled with his smell that it almost makes me dizzy. That scent that's just so Danny, the airy, wood and rain and ice smell that takes my breath away again.

When he fights he doesn't realize what he does to me. Every time a blast comes too close to him, or a punch sends him back into a wall, I seize up and I stop breathing. Every time he comes back to me for bandaging with his unique blood running out of whatever injury he'd acquired, with that sheepish look that hid his pain, I can't catch my breath at the fact that I could have lost him. And the best one is where his green eyes light up with triumph and he literally glows with energy as he beats his opponent, and that's when I can't breathe and I don't even seem to know that I stopped.

I try to stop it. I try to think about it and keep myself from losing that precious air. It doesn't work.

And, then he flies to me after one of his more viscous battles and tackles me in an embrace that's all relief and love and passion. We end up on the ground with his sweat and my tears covering us and neither of us really cares. Our throats are sore and our lips are chapped, but it doesn't stop either of us when we pull the other as close as we can get and crush our lips together. When Tucker is the last thing on our minds even when he's standing not twenty foot from us and doing the same thing with his girl and we're still pulling each other closer. Our lips are locked together and I'm still pulling him closer.

Those are the moments when air, as precious as it is, seems kind of redundant.

Tell me what you think?