To Die With You - Part 5
To Die With You is a DP whump fic written for @whumptober, with parts shared in order of prompts, not plot. Follow the To Die With You tag to read throughout the month, or stay tuned for the whole fic to drop on Ao3.
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Tucker wasn’t actually allowed to drive. Sure, he had a learner's permit, but he was in Jazz’s car solo. That was against the law. Technically. But so was that stop light he blew. That turn on a red light. That running a red light.
And probably a bunch of other things he’d done to help Danny. But running a red light feels more criminal than trespassing into the Fenton’s basement and stealing tech. Or trying to hack into Dalv, Co systems. He blamed the horns. People were watching him break the laws.
He took a turn and squeezed his thighs around the green thermos between them. Green for ecto, Danny had said with a grin as he shook the spray paint. It was the wrong shade of green – more Christmas tree than toxic sludge – but it worked. It’d been easy for Tucker to see, to grab, to rush with.
His plan was to get to school, get to Danny, and force-feed him the ectoplasm. He could think about why Jazz told him to leave solo later. That was step four of his plan. But right now, he had his duty. Save Danny.
He didn’t bother finding an actual parking spot, just simply pulled up as close as he could to the music practice rooms and hopped out. It was a miracle he remembered to lock Jazz’s car as he sprinted through the door.
When he burst through the small room he’d left Sam and Danny, Sam turned to him with big, wet eyes. Panic swum in their depths, but Tucker ignored it. He ignored a lot. The pool of ectoplasm on the floor. Danny’s face looking half melted, half burned. All that mattered was that Danny still had a mouth, twisted as it was.
Tucker shoved the thermos at Sam. “Open it!” he shouted.
As she scrambled for the lid, fingers covered in ecto, Tucker titled Danny’s head back. He ignored the give of Danny’s jaws, how it felt like sponges under his skin instead of bone, and pried Danny’s mouth open. Instantly, Sam slid the open thermos into place and poured it down Danny’s throat.
When Dani had gotten a shot of ectoplasm, her recovery had been nearly instantaneous. Danny’s took longer, but Tucker felt the bone under his hand solidify. Watched teeth push out from Danny’s gums and his skin smooth out and tighten. After a minute, Danny blinked at them with noxious green eyes, looking normal but exhausted.
“You good?” Tucker asked.
Danny clenched the arm around his stomach. “That did not settle well.”
“It’s radioactive sludge,” Sam snapped without heat, “Of course it’s nasty.”
“No, I mean-” Danny wrenched himself to the side to throw up, thin, green ecto spilling from his mouth.
Sam looked at Tucker in panic. “Ectoplasm was supposed to heal him!”
“It did!” Sure, the practice room still looked like someone spilled a bucket of glow-in-the-dark paint, but Danny healed!
“Maybe he needs more,” Tucker muttered, pulling out his phone to call Jazz.
It rang and went to voicemail.
He called again.
And again.
Whatever Jazz was doing, it was more important than keeping them informed.
Jazz had gone to the basement. Something there had captured her attention. The Fentons? The portal?
“We’ll figure this out,” Sam whispered as she pushed back strands of Danny’s hair. They were clumping like dreadlocks and stretching toward the floor, like thin, water filled balloons. Danny couldn’t keep his form together, and like water without a container he’d pool on the floor until he evaporated.
Ecto had helped, even if it didn’t solve things, so Tucker would get his friend ecto.
He slammed the car keys into Sam’s hand. “Start Jazz’s car and open the passenger seat. We’re taking him to FentonWorks.”
Was it safe? No. But if Danny needed ectoplasm Tucker would shove his friend in a wheelbarrow and tip him into the ghost zone.
