#hjbwrites

“It’s a PTA reminder,” he explained, even though Vlad was already reading it. “Wednesday, next week.”

“The ninth? I’m afraid that won’t do. The new furniture will be delivered that afternoon and I must be present when the movers arrive.”

“We—you’re getting new furniture?”

“Yes. I’ve been meaning to do some minor remodeling and decorating since last year but never could seem to find the time. The party is as good an excuse as any.”

Danny’s frown deepened. “What party?”

Vlad peered over the top of the paper. “Your sixteenth birthday party.”

“You trying to turn me into an alcoholic or something?” Danny joked.

“You’ve gone toe to toe with Pariah Dark and lived to tell about it. I trust you’re mature enough to handle a little wine.”

“I’d classify Pariah Dark as a strong spirit, but that’s just me.”

Vlad let out an unexpected burst of laughter. A few strands of gray hair fell free from behind his ear. “Good one.” He lifted his head, eyes twinkling. “I’ve missed those puns of yours, Danny. More than I can say.”

Danny’s smiled wavered at the tender tone in those last five words. “Well, here’s hoping I make you regret it.” He raised his glass, and Vlad returned the gesture.

“I welcome the opportunity.”

Rated: M

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Summary:

Ambition had superseded compassion. Danny had ceased to be their son. He was now a miracle of modern science, regarded with the same taxon of love as a prize-winning steer. His individual worth had been eclipsed by his value to the world, to science, to the advancement of the human species. He was an asset to be puzzled over and categorized and, ultimately, sacrificed by those to whom leaving a legacy of knowledge mattered more than a bloodline.

I have a confession to make, anon. I had planned on writing (or drawing) a scenario that features exactly this 🥴

Danny is over at Vlad's place for some kind of swanky party and enjoying one particular tray of cheese. I mean he's really enjoying it. Chowing down. Going to town. Cramming it with gusto. Not sharing it with anyone.

"God, this cheese is so good," he declares, picking up his thirteenth hors d'oeuvre and stabbing the whole thing into his mouth.

Vlad, standing nearby, smiles graciously. "Why, thank you, Daniel." He pats his chest proudly. "I made it myself."

It takes a few seconds to sink in. Danny's chewing slows until it stops altogether. Then the tears start to form in his eyes.

He can just phase the hairs off, too. Easier and less likely to wake Danny.

Of course now I can't help but imagine Vlad sipping coffee at the table and Danny bursts into the kitchen, still wearing his pajamas, fuming.

"What have you done to me?!"

Vlad blinks serenely at Danny over the top of his newspaper. "Last night or...?"

Danny's face goes scarlet. He grasps each side of his button down shirt and rips it open.

His hairless chest gleams in the early morning light.

"Look at me. I'm SHINY."

Vlad lowers his paper, one eyebrow arched with interest. "Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Fenton?"

A vein throbs in Danny's temple. "Do you know how long it took me to grow those chest hairs?"

"There were only three. Hardly worth a tantrum."

"It's not just them! Every single hair below my nose is gone!" Danny lifts his arm to show off his smooth pits.

"Oh, dear. Looks like you might be the latest victim of the Twink Ghost."

"The what?"

"Twink Ghost. Serial hair remover. Twinkifies every spectral male entity he can find. It's his obsession. Would you like some breakfast?"

"You're telling me the Twink Ghost—which sounds totally made-up, by the way—somehow got through your security system last night and removed my pubes while I was sleeping next to you?"

Vlad shrugs. "He doesn't attack older specters. I'm immune."

Danny throws his hands into the air and lets out a frustrated snarl.

"Tut tut, little badger, it's too early to start your day off enraged. Would you like some French toast and—"

"I'm going to the Ghost Zone!" Danny stabs an angry finger at Vlad, his left eye twitching. "And if I find out there's no such thing as a Twink Ghost, I'm going to come back here and kick your ass."

"Daniel, please," Vlad titters, "it's much too early to be tempting me with such"—he shivers—"delightful promises."

Uttering one last exasperated scream, Danny spins on his heel and stomps toward the basement with vengeance boiling in his heart.

Vlad raises his newspaper once more, hiding his triumphant smile.

Thinking about Vlad and Danny’s human bodies aging while their ghosts remain the same age at the time of their respective accidents. Forever twenty-something and fourteen in spirit, their human forms getting soft, saggy. Wrinkles, aches, arthritis, youth dissolving with each passing holiday, anniversary, birthday.

Eventually mortal tissue becomes a poor conductor of spectral energy, and Vlad and Danny can no longer use their ghost powers while in human form. Going invisible or intangible causes pain and prolonged weakness. Flight is out of the question. So is overshadowing. The ease with which they enjoyed the mixed use of their skills diminishes rapidly after age sixty. Soon the only vestige of their hybrid abilities remains in the occasional red or green glow of their eyes, but even that is on the decline.

Yet while their human bodies weaken with time, their ghost halves—like all spectral entities—grow stronger. They know the day is coming when all metabolic functions will cease and their flesh will die, at which point they will become entirely ghost, no longer trapped between worlds.

Will they level up, shaking off the mortal raiment that has been trapping them for most of their lives? Or will it be a downgrade, losing the part of them that made them so special? Perhaps the most important question is what to do when the time comes.

“Do you want to pass together?” Vlad asks, his voice dry and crackly with age as he strokes the back of Danny’s hand with a wrinkled thumb. “Or shall we let nature take its course?”

“I don’t know,” Danny answers. His forehead is marked with deep horizontal creases; sixty-two years’ worth of cares and joys. “On one hand I like the idea of going out at the same time, but…”

Vlad nods, almost reading his mind. After so many years together, he practically can. “Yes. You still have a few more decades of life to live.”

“Not sure how good they’d be without you, though.”

Vlad grins. He still has most of his teeth, though they’ve darkened over the decades to a dusky ivory. He has a set of dentures for what few public appearances he still makes, but they’re deliberately imperfect. At some point, blazing-white chiclets on a man nearly a century old looks absurd.

“It’s not as if you won’t be able to see me every day, Daniel.”

“I know. But still. Vlad Masters will be dead and only Vlad Plasmius will exist. It’s gonna be hard knowing I’ll never see that man again.” Danny raises his head. “Whichever one of us dies first ought to make a promise to haunt the survivor until he dies.”

“Hm. You can count on it, little badger.” Vlad squeezes Danny’s hand. They share a chuckle, two old men sitting close together on a park bench, one in Italian trousers and a vicuña cardigan with a gold-handled cane balanced between his knees, the other dressed in jeans and a Cornell University sweatshirt, his alma mater. By all appearances, as opposite as night and day. Around them, autumn leaves tumble down from overhanging tree branches in a gold and orange snowfall.

“I’m gonna miss this world,” Danny says with a wistful sigh.