#soft danny

Then, a familiar, cloying voice seeped into his personal space, making his phantom senses prickle. "Daniel. How… quaint this little gathering is."

Danny turned, forcing a polite smile that felt more like a grimace. Vlad Masters, in a disgustingly expensive suit, stood too close, his eyes gleaming with an unnervingly possessive light. Vlad Masters, a renowned figure in science and pharmaceuticals, was certainly a prominent presence.

"Vlad. Fancy seeing you here," Danny said, trying to keep his tone level.

"Indeed. Though I confess, I am less than thrilled to see you straying so far, Daniel. Especially into the sphere of… Mr. Wayne." Vlad's gaze flickered towards Bruce, who was currently deep in conversation with a university dean across the hall. "Such mundane concerns. You are destined for so much more. You belong by my side, Daniel, as my rightful heir. Imagine, the two of us, shaping the future of both worlds!" He extended a hand, a gesture of faux benevolence that made Danny's stomach churn.

"Is there a problem here, Mr. Masters?" The voice was a low, dangerous rumble. Bruce Wayne had appeared as if from the shadows, his eyes, usually unreadable, narrowed with a protective intensity as they landed on Vlad's outstretched hand and Danny's discomfort. Bruce had no idea how Vlad Masters connected to Danny, only that it looked suspicious.

Vlad, completely oblivious to Bruce's misinterpretation, beamed. "No problem at all, Mr. Wayne. Just a private discussion with my protégé, young Daniel. A promising future, I assure you."

"Protégé?" Bruce's eyebrows barely twitched, but a subtle tension entered his shoulders. He moved closer, placing a deliberate, protective hand on Danny's shoulder. Bruce already knew about Danny's powers, had seen his battles as Phantom, and worried for the kid's safety both in his civilian life and his nightly patrols. He'd tried to offer Danny an internship at Wayne Enterprises before, wanting to keep him close, but his children had vehemently shut down any talk of adopting him, convinced Danny needed a life separate from their own brand of chaos. "I assure you, Mr. Masters, Daniel Fenton's future is very much intertwined with Wayne Enterprises. I believe he was about to accept an internship with my research division, weren't you, Danny?" Bruce's grip was firm, a silent command in the pressure. Danny, of course, had no idea Bruce was Batman, or that he knew about Phantom.

Danny's jaw went slack. He stared at Vlad, who was now turning a blotchy red, then back at Bruce, whose gaze was unwavering. This was a nightmare unfolding in slow motion.

"An internship?" Vlad shrieked, his carefully maintained composure dissolving. "You dare try to poach my heir, Wayne? This is an outrage! A declaration of war upon my legacy!"

"Heir?" Bruce's grip on Danny's shoulder tightened, his eyes flashing dangerously at Vlad. "Are you implying some sort of… prearranged arrangement, Mr. Masters? Because I must warn you, any coercive behavior, especially involving a minor, will not be tolerated. Not in Gotham." He glanced at Danny, a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes. "No one's going to force you into anything, young man. Not while I'm around."

Vlad, incandescent with rage and still completely misunderstanding Bruce's protective stance, pointed a trembling finger at the billionaire. "You speak of coercion, Wayne, when you attempt to steal my destined protégé? Daniel belongs with me, ruling the very fabric of existence!"

Just as Danny tried to form a coherent sentence that wouldn't expose his entire life, a booming, familiar voice reverberated through the hall, making half the attendees jump.

"DANNY-BOY! There you are!"

Danny squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, no. No, no, no. He opened them slowly. Strolling through the entrance, oblivious to the stares and gasps, were Jack and Maddie Fenton. Their bright orange and yellow jumpsuits clashed violently with the subdued academic attire of the faculty. Maddie's proton pack hummed softly on her back, and Jack proudly carried his latest invention: a device that looked suspiciously like a glowing, oversized fishing reel. Jazz, her face a mask of profound mortification, was practically clinging to Jack's arm, desperately whispering, "Mom, Dad, no! Please! We talked about this!" She had known they planned to come, and had tried everything to dissuade them, but they were oblivious to her attempts.

"Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?!" Danny hissed, his voice barely audible above the sudden murmurs in the room.

"Well, son, your sister told us about this fancy shindig, and we figured, if there's science, there might be ghosts!" Jack boomed, nearly tripping over a display pedestal filled with fragile glassware. "And we can't have any ecto-entities mucking up Gotham's fine institutions!"

Maddie, ever vigilant, narrowed her eyes, scanning the room. "I'm picking up a faint ecto-signature, Jack. Very faint, but definitely there. Probably a Class 1." She didn't point at Vlad, but instead focused on a flickering light in the corner of the room.

Vlad, seeing the Fentons, visibly blanched. "Jack! Madeline! What an… unforeseen development." He quickly adjusted his tie, trying to regain his composure, but a bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

Bruce Wayne, however, let out a slow, controlled exhale, a hint of weary resignation crossing his features. He recognized the Fentons immediately, and the inevitable chaos they brought. His concern for Danny's future, and indeed his immediate safety, deepened significantly. He barely glanced at Vlad, his focus now entirely on the approaching, orange-clad storm.

"Ghosts?" Bruce repeated, his voice flat, tinged with a familiar weariness. "Ecto-signatures? Proton packs? Here?"

"Oh, you bet, Mr. Wayne!" Jack declared proudly, hefting his ecto-reel. "We're the world's leading experts in ecto-containment! And if there's an ecto-entity around, we'll blast it back to the Ghost Zone where it belongs!" He gave Vlad a hearty, entirely oblivious slap on the back that made the older man wince. "Good to see a fellow man of science here, Vlad! Maybe you've picked up on the ecto-reading too?"

Jazz, finally losing her battle to subtly control her parents, stepped forward, her voice sharp and clear, cutting through the chaos. "Mom, Dad, enough! You are at a university event, not a ghost hunt! There are no ghosts here, and you are embarrassing Danny!" She turned to Bruce and Vlad, her expression a mix of apology and fierce determination. "My apologies, gentlemen. They tend to… overestimate the prevalence of ecto-activity outside of Amity."

"Nonsense, sweetie! There's always ghosts!" Maddie countered, ignoring Jazz and her eyes still scanning the room for any spectral anomalies. "We just need to make sure this fine institution is safe for future ghost hunters… and engineers, of course."

Vlad, now thoroughly flustered and maintaining a strained, sickly smile, stammered, "This is preposterous! I am a respected businessman, not some… spectral nuisance!"

Bruce cut in, his voice low and firm, addressing Vlad but with a pointed glance towards the Fentons. "Mr. Masters, I believe we were discussing your unacceptable proposition to Daniel. This… distraction does not change the nature of my concerns regarding your intentions. Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, your behavior is causing a significant disturbance."

"Disturbance?" Maddie scoffed, ignoring Bruce's tone. "But the ecto-reading is definitely peaking around... him!" She pointed a finger, not at Vlad, but at Bruce, who felt a familiar prickle from his own unique, non-ectoplasmic energy signature. "He's emitting trace ecto-energy, Jack! Maybe a low-level ecto-parasite!"

Bruce's eyes widened fractionally. "Ecto-parasite?" He had to give them credit for detecting something, even if their interpretation was wildly inaccurate. He was quite aware of the unique energy signatures his own costume and gadgets generated. This was a new layer of alarming.

Danny looked at his parents, now loudly arguing about Bruce's supposed ecto-signature, at Vlad, who was visibly sweating and looking for an exit, at Bruce, who looked like he was having an existential crisis mixed with genuine scientific intrigue, and at Jazz, who seemed on the verge of tears.

Nope.

He didn't even have to look at Cassandra. He just knew.

A small, firm hand clasped his. Cassandra met his gaze, her expression unreadable but her eyes conveying a clear message. She didn't say a word, just gave a subtle nod towards the nearest exit.

Before anyone could react, before Jack could accidentally activate his ecto-reel, before Maddie could fire her proton pack at Bruce Wayne, before Vlad could entirely lose his composure and transform, or before Bruce could fully process the bizarre turn of events, Cassandra pulled Danny along. She moved with a silent, effortless grace, navigating through the startled onlookers. In moments, they were out the door.

Parked just outside was a sleek, black motorcycle. Without a word, Cassandra straddled it, gesturing for Danny to get on behind her. He didn't hesitate. As the engine roared to life, he wrapped his arms around her waist, catching one last glimpse of the increasingly bewildered faces inside the hall.

"Where are we going?" Danny yelled over the wind.

Cassandra just leaned back slightly, her answer barely audible, but perfectly clear: "Away."

The engine of Cassandra's motorcycle roared, swallowing the fading chaos inside the Gotham University hall.

Jazz Fenton slowly lowered her hands, rubbing her temples. "Okay, Jasmine," she muttered to herself, her voice strained. "Everything is fine. Your parents are grown and are responsible for themselves." Her parents, a whirlwind of ectoplasmic theories and well-meaning destruction, were now charging off in the direction Vlad Masters had fled, convinced he was a source of anomalous energy linked to Bruce Wayne. The crowd, having previously stared in bewildered silence, was now actively avoiding the bright orange and yellow jumpsuits.

"That looked rough."

The voice was low, laced with amusement, and startlingly close. Jazz turned, her irritation still simmering, ready to unleash a withering psychological assessment. But her words caught in her throat.

Standing there, a faint, knowing smirk on his lips, was a man in dark, civilian clothes. He was strikingly handsome, with dark hair, a strong jawline, and eyes that seemed to hold both mischief and a surprising depth. Jazz had no idea who he was.

Jazz felt a blush creep up her neck, heat rushing to her cheeks. She, Jazz Fenton, a psychology prodigy and master of emotional regulation, was blushing. At a stranger. A very, very attractive stranger.

His smirk widened, a glint of genuine amusement in his eyes as he noticed her reaction. "Rough day?" he repeated, his voice smooth.

Jazz cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "It's looking better," she managed, the blush refusing to recede.

His smile softened, becoming less a smirk and more genuinely inviting. "Can I get you a drink? There's a burger joint down that way that makes amazing food and strong drinks." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the street.

Jazz's gaze flickered. She knew where he meant. It wasn't the kind of place one usually went for a post-university-event decompression. It was a place for getting away from things. And right now, getting away from everything sounded like a brilliant idea.

"Absolutely,  I'd like that"

Across the now-thinning crowd, Bruce Wayne, still looking thoroughly flummoxed by the Fentons' latest display, watched the interaction. A flicker of pride crossed his face as he observed Jason. After all the years of emotional distance, the raw anger, seeing Jason engage with a civilian, offering comfort and a simple invitation, was a genuinely surprising and welcome development. Bruce's own children had told him he couldn't adopt Danny, but watching Jason unexpectedly find a connection amidst the chaos was… intriguing. This night was truly a test of his composure, but perhaps, also a strange kind of triumph.

Author’s Notes (at the end):

Thanks for reading! 🖤

This one-shot was supposed to be simple and then, much like Jack Fenton in a museum, it escalated quickly.

Let me know if you'd like a follow-up:

Danny and Cass training-date chaos?

Jason and Jazz burger date aftermath?

Bruce Wayne’s group therapy for “People Who’ve Had the Fentons in Their Vicinity?”