A DemiEnby Ghost

I’ve been imagining this story prompt for a week now and am finally writing it down

Danny and Tim are in the same class (college or high school idc) and Tim has a raging fever from some infection he got tumbling around Gotham rooftops and alleys. It’s a filthy city, infections are gonna happen (does he have a spleen? dealers choice).

Danny, Tim, and another classmate are put on a team project for the duration of the class, and the other notices Tim is flushed and sweaty and calls him out for it like “Hey dude I think you’re super sick you should go to the nurse” and puts a hand against Tim’s forehead to test for fever. Tim’s too exhausted to protest. He’s legit almost passing out but good at hiding it.

“Wow he’s really burning up. Danny, feel this.”

“Nah I can never tell,” Danny says. “I run cold so checking temp isn’t something I’m good at.”

“Well maybe that’ll help him wake up a little,” and the other classmate grabs Danny’s hand and puts it against Tim’s cheek.

Tim sighs and presses his face into Danny’s hand like a cat. Danny blushes. Other Classmate laughs and shoves Danny closer to Tim, who absolutely buries his face against Danny’s neck and drags him into a vice-grip-hug.

Danny is sputtering and blushing tomato red.

The teacher finally notices and walks over. Whole class is watching, laughing, whispering. Other Classmate explains to teacher that Tim is super feverish and teacher tells Danny to take Tim to the nurse.

Danny tries to move away but Tim holds on tighter and Danny eventually just sighs and lifts Tim into a princess carry (making more classmates giggle or whistle) before walking out of the room to go find the nurse’s office on campus.

A "minor" scratch from a rusty fire escape while chasing a lead in the Narrows had turned into a full-blown, limb-heavy, mind-fogging infection. Just his luck.

"Okay, so for the architectural analysis, we should probably start with the- Tim? You okay, man?"

The one talking was Marcus, their third for the semester-long urban planning project. Tim blinked slowly, trying to focus on the blueprint in front of him. His skin felt like it was being toasted from the inside out.

"Fine," Tim rasped. "Just... tired."

"You’re shivering," Danny Fenton noted from Tim’s other side. Danny was a quiet transfer student who always sat at the back and wore hoodies no matter the weather. He was looking at Tim with a strange, analytical tilt of his head.

Marcus reached out, pressing a palm firmly against Tim’s forehead. He recoiled instantly. "Holy hell! Dude, you’re burning up. You’re literally radiating heat. You need to go to the nurse like right now."

Tim tried to protest, but his tongue felt like a dry sponge. He just leaned back, his eyelids fluttering.

"Wow, you can feel it even when you're not touching skin," Marcus said, turning to Danny. "Danny, feel this. I think he’s like actually boiling."

Danny held up his hands, retreating slightly. "Nah, I’m the worst person to check. I run cold. Like, abnormally cold. I can never tell what a 'normal' people temp feels like."

"Well, in that case maybe you’ll act like an ice pack and wake him up," Marcus joked. Before Danny could dodge, Marcus grabbed Danny’s wrist and guided his hand directly onto Tim’s flushed cheek.

The reaction was instantaneous. To Tim, Danny’s skin didn't feel like skin it felt like a slab of marble pulled from a freezer. It was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt.

Tim let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. He leaned into the touch, nuzzling his face into Danny’s palm like a desperate cat. You'd half expect him to go mrrr.

Danny froze, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled Tim’s fever. "Uh. Tim?"

Marcus barked an unexpected laugh. "Whoa, he really likes the AC!" He gave Danny a playful shove, pushing him closer to the slumped over Wayne.

That was all the permission Tim’s delirious brain needed. Taking the oppertunity to move forward, wrapping his arms around Danny’s waist and burying his face into the crook of Danny’s neck. He squeezed, locking his fingers behind Danny’s back in an impossible to escape vicegrip.

"So cold," Tim mumbled into Danny’s hoodie. "Don’t move. Stay."

The classroom went silent for a heartbeat before the snickering started. Danny sat there, arms hovering awkwardly in the air, his face now a vivid, glowing tomato red.

"Mr. Fenton? Mr. Drake?" The teacher, Mr. Harris, marched over, peering over his spectacles. "What exactly is the meaning of all... this?"

"Tim's got a fever, sir!" Marcus explained, grinning. "Danny’s apparently a human popsicle, so now he's helping Tim from melting."

Mr. Harris looked at Tim’s limp, clinging form and sighed. "Fenton, take him to the clinic. Now. Before he faints on the floor." The last thing the school needs is problems with Wayne.

Danny tried to pry Tim’s hands loose. "Alright, Tim, buddy, let’s go. Let go."

Tim only tightened his grip, a low, pathetic whine escaping his throat. He wasn't letting go of the cold.

With a look of pure, soul-crushing defeat, Danny sighed. He shifted his weight, hooked one arm under Tim’s knees and the other behind his back, and hoisted the billionaire’s son into a perfect princess carry.

The class erupted. Someone whistled; Marcus started filming on his phone. Danny ignored them all, marching out of the room with a burning face and a freezing chest, Tim’s head lolling contentedly against his shoulder.

"It's just schoolwork," Danny muttered, adjust the strap of his backpack. "Just schoolwork with a guy who used me as a icepack in front of thirty people. Totally normal."

When he finally reached the gates of Wayne Manor, his "doom thinking" went into overdrive. The place was massive. It screamed Old Money and We Have A Room Dedicated To Harassing Commoners.

"Yes?" a crisp, British voice asked.

"Uh, hi. I'm Danny Fenton? I’m here for the urban planning project. With Tim?"

The gates creaked open without a word.

Danny was expecting the owner of the british voice to be at the door. Instead, he was greeted there by the same grinning menace from the nurse's office.

"Kid Ice! You actually showed up!" Dick Grayson beamed, leaning against the heavy oak door. He looked like he’d been waiting there since Tuesday just to pounce. "I thought for sure you’d be halfway to the Yukon by now."

"The flights were too expensive," Danny deadpanned, trying to keep his heart rate under control. "Is Tim... awake? And feeling better? Preferably in a room with no older siblings that want to interrogate me?"

"He’s in the sunroom. Still a bit shaky, but A- I mean, the family doctor got the infection under control." Dick stepped aside, gesturing into the cavernous hallway. "Bruce is around somewhere. He’s very eager to meet the boy who carried his son across campus like a sickly maiden."

Danny felt his soul attempt to leave his body. "Please tell me you’re joking. "He'd really hoped the guy would be at his work, in some kind of meeting or whatever.

"I never joke about romance, Danny!" Dick chirped, leading him through the house. "By the way, I love the 'meta-thermostat' thing. Very cool. Literally, and you're so open about it too."

They reached the sunroom, a beautiful glass-walled paradise that was currently filled with various plants, the scent of expensive tea and antiseptic. Tim was buried under a mountain of blankets on a chaise lounge, looking significantly less like a tomato and more like a person again and cradling a steaming mug with tea. Honestly, the whole picture was giving Danny a lot of cuteness agression.

"Danny," Tim said, his eyes brightening. He started to sit up, but a tall, looming shadow moved from the side of the room behind him, placing a heavy hand on Tim's shoulder, pushing him back and wrapping the blankets back. How the hell did Danny miss him being in the room as well? Overall, It was like a picture perfect example of worried dad looking after his sick son, complete with very annoyed grumblings of "B, cut that out" from Tim.

Danny froze.

Bruce Wayne. The man was a mountain of tailored suit and intimidating silence. And now here it comes, the list of behavioral demands, and then once Danny disapointed him he'd be kicked out and told under no uncertain terms he'll have a restraining order put-

"Mr. Fenton," Bruce said, his voice a deep baritone that vibrated in Danny’s bones, instantly cutting through his spiraling thoughts. "I’m told I owe you a debt of gratitude for looking after Timothy." yep that's some more indignant grumbles from Tim.

"Oh, uh, no problem, sir," Danny squeaked. Okay now it'll happen, initial pleasanties out of the way and this was gonna be it. This was the 'Sam's Parents' talk. He could feel it coming. 'You're a middle-class boy from a town that basically doesn't exist, stay away from my son.' Danny squared his shoulders. "Look, Mr. Wayne, I know I’m just a transfer student and I run a little cold and the whole 'carrying him' thing was weird, but I have a high GPA and I’m very dedicated to this assignment and if you think I’m just here to-"

"I was going to ask if you wanted some hot cocoa," Bruce interrupted, blinking slowly. "Though Alfred suggested you might prefer something cold?"

Danny blinked. "Oh."

"And you're more than welcome," Bruce added, a ghost of a tired smile touching his lips. "It is good to see Tim make more friends."

"He didn't have a choice, B," Tim grumbled, though he was looking at Danny with a soft, hopeful expression. "I had him in a wrestling hold."

"A very effective one," Danny muttered, finally stepping into the room as Bruce and Dick shared a look.

"We’ll leave you two to it," Dick said, winking at Danny. "But Danny, if you need a job, Wayne Enterprises could always use someone to keep the server rooms cool. Think about it!" causing Tim to groan and hold his forehead.

As the door closed behind the two elder Waynes, Danny let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding since he stepped inside the manor. He slumped into a chair next to Tim’s lounge.

"Sorry about them," Tim said, sounding genuinely sheepish. "They’re... a lot."

"I thought your dad was going to banish me to the Ghost Zo- to a different school district," Danny corrected himself quickly.

"Bruce? Nah. He’s just a big dork once you get past the-" he waves his hand, "the everything else." Tim shifted, the blankets sliding down somewhat again. He still looked a little pale. "So... the project?"

"Right. The project." Danny pulled out the blueprints, but he noticed Tim was shivering slightly.

Danny hesitated. He thought about the awkwardness. He thought about Marcus’s video. He thought about Jazz’s inevitable teasing. Then he looked at Tim, who was trying to hold a pencil with trembling fingers. Does any of that really matter in the here and now? it's not like anyone is watching here right.

"You're still kinda sick, huh" Danny noted.

"A bit," Tim admitted. "The fever broke, so now it's just... y'know, a regular cold."

Danny hums before moving his chair closer until their shoulders touched. letting his naturally chilled arm rest against Tim’s side. "Don't get used to it. I'm a project partner, not an icepack."

Tim leaned into the contact immediately, his shivering stopping as he found that perfect, steady baseline temperature Danny provided. He let out a content hum, the same one that had embarrassed Danny so much in class.

"The best project partner ever," Tim whispered, finally focusing on the blueprints.

Danny felt his face heating up again. So much for no more hugging, he thought. At least there aren't any cameras this time.

quite a bit below them, down in the batcave, Dick Grayson hovered his finger over the 'Record' button on the camera feed.

"Don't you dare," Bruce’s voice came from somwhere near the batmobile.

"Oh c'mon, This will be great for later when they get married!" Dick pleaded. The comment only getting him the patented sound of disaproval from the big bat.

I hadn't heard about this so I had to look it up and see what the fuck happened. And Christ, she was just 21 years old. Just 21. She graduated three years ago. She would have had her first legal beer just two weeks ago. And now she's fucking dead.

I'm not here to entertain the radfem bandwagon, so don't even start on that. My concern is that this more than likely had lead-up and warning signs that just... didn't get taken seriously. Bad interactions, comments, weird feelings. These two should never have been left alone together.

I'm just. Wow.

Just... wow.