I just realized that I've written 24 stories on this site.
So I decided to make it 25.
This story is written in a similar style as my other story, Wind. I got such an overwhelmingly positive reaction to that story, that I figured a sequal of sorts would be an appropriate 25th.
If you have not read Wind, fret not. This story is very easy to understand without it. But I'll let you know right now, in this story, Danny and Sam are already together.
I repeat, Danny and Sam are already in a relationship in this story.
It's very short for my style. I think it's in the mid-900-range. I usually stick to the 2500-3000 range. I wanted it to be a bit longer, but I'm happy with the way it turned out regardless.
Alright. I don't own Danny Phantom.
Hope you guys enjoy this (:
Happy 25th story to me!
August 13, 2012
The inhabitants of Amity Park were not accustomed to heavy rainfall. Being the citizens of the most haunted city in America, nay, the world, one would expect these civilians to be capable of handling a tiny torrential downpour.
One would be wrong.
Hardly anyone dared to venture out of their homes, lest they be soaked to the bone in thirty seconds flat. Those that did brave the weather were hunched against the rain, drawing the collar of their coats up in a fruitless effort to shield their necks from the pinpricks of the freezing liquid. It was unseasonably cold on that April morning.
The rain rather enjoyed the mayhem it created. It pooled in relatively deep puddles on the edges of the roads, waiting for an unsuspecting car to speed through. When the tires splashed through, the rain water leapt into the legs of passing pedestrians, earning a sharp cry of protest and a scathing glare from its now-dripping-wet victim. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed rather jovially at the human's misfortune.
The rain pounded against the windows of homes where humans hid, determined to ruin the cozy scenes just out of its' reach. They did not want to get wet, fine; the rain would do its damndest to at least induce a headache.
The rain was just about to unleash a particularly furious wave of liquid on a strange boy in a strange red beret who scurried from his front porch to his vehicle, back bent against the wind in an effort to protect what appeared to be several rather expensive-looking electronics, when it spotted something much more tantalizing on the other side of town: a partially opened window. Immediately, it changed direction, making a bee-line for the darkened window. The wind aided the rain by forcing it up at an angle to slip through the window. Beads of water gathered against the black curtains, peering curiously at the cloth. Black cutains? How unusual.
A startled cry caught the rain's attention. A boy, who looked half-awake, tumbled from a bed in the corner, his blue eyes bright with fear. He was crouched on the floor, one hand bracing his body at his awkward angle, the other pulled back in a fist. His raven black hair was tousled and his shirt was off; his entire appearance screamed disheveled bedhead. The rain smirked, challanging the boy to come forward and try to close the rain out.
The rain rather regretted making this challange, however, when two white rings that seemed to be coming from the boy himself appeared around his waist. One slid up his torso while the other slid down his legs, leaving a completely different but still the same boy in its' place. He straightened and stared at the window, looking confused. But then he threw his head back and laughed.
He moved forward easily, not even flinching when the rain lashed through the window and slapped against the polyester suit adorning his body. He closed the window and shut his suddenly green eyes and ran a hand through his suddenly snow-white hair, sighing in relief.
The water beaded on the black curtains watched as the boy forced the rings around himself and changed back to his first appearance. He glanced at the window one last time, running his hand along the lock to ensure that it would stay closed, before turning his attention back to the bed he tumbled out of moments before. A figure was stirring in the sheets.
The rain was still pounding against the roof, but the boy did not appear to notice. He was transfixed on whatever was in the sheets. He balled his hands into fists, clenching and unclenching his fingers, as he watched the figure stir. His eyes gleamed with hunger.
The sheets fell away and a girl appeared, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Her hair was tousled as well, and her black nightgown was twisted around her torso from where she rolled over. The boy took a step forward, watching her face intently. She dropped her hand and gazed at him through half-lidded eyes, her face innocent and full of sleep. She brushed her bangs away from her eyes and raised an eyebrow in question. The boy shook his head dismissively, his unspoken sentiment that everything was as it should be calming her waking nerves, and moved to join her in bed. She sighed happily and scooted a few inches over, only to be stopped when the boy hooked his arm around her waist and dragged her back toward him. He planted a soft kiss on her lips, sighing in content when her hands cupped his face. The beads of water slipped down the curtains and dripped to the carpeted floor.
Suddenly, the pounding rain against the roof sounded much more peaceful. It was a rather rhythmic drumming; it lulled the girl back to sleep with her head against his chest. He held her arm, which she flung across his stomach, in place with one hand while running his other up and down her upper arm rather compulsively. His eyes were still on her face, drinking in her sleeping figure with such burning intesity one would think it would be the last time he would ever see her. Her lips split apart slightly with a puff of air, and the boy smiled a huge, crooked grin at her involuntary cuteness. He bent his neck at an awkward angle, planting a soft kiss on her forhead and again on the tip of her nose. She sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer to his side, tightening her grip around his waist.
The rain watched through the window for a moment longer, before the boy in the red beret caught its' attention down below the window. He was pounding on the front door of the couple's building frantically, cradling his electronics against his stomach as an act of feeble protection. The rain smirked.
Some people just make it too easy.
Aw. Poor Tucker.
You guys knew it was Tucker, right?
Well, now you do.
Alright. It was kind of the same as Wind, but different at the same time. I'm not sure how y'all are gonna respond, but I'm proud of it.
For reference, they're all in the 17-18-year-old range. Seniors in high school. Ish.
Tell me what you think?