Danny Fenton is trying to keep up with Cassandra Cain’s hand-to-hand combat training — no ghost powers allowed. What starts as a serious sparring session quickly devolves into playful banter, accidental ghostly mishaps, and a rare tender moment between them. Just when things start to settle, Cassandra’s brothers crash the “date” with a classic Bat-family “shovel talk.”
.........
The old Gotham University gym smelled like sweat, leather, and a faint trace of something old and dusty—like forgotten ghosts of previous athletes. Dust motes danced in the sparse shafts of sunlight filtering through grimy windows, illuminating the worn mats and scuffed punching bags. Danny Fenton bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, gloves half-laced, trying to look like he belonged in a hand-to-hand sparring session. He felt profoundly out of his element. His usual fights involved phasing through walls and firing ecto-blasts, not dodging actual, solid fists. He’d agreed to this because Cass had asked, and frankly, anything she asked, he’d probably do. But he was starting to question his life choices. This wasn't exactly the "normal college experience" he'd envisioned when he moved to Gotham. Then again, nothing in his life was ever truly normal.
Cassandra Cain stood opposite him, serene and unshaken. Her stance was flawless, her eyes calm but alert, ready to spring at any moment. She wore simple black athletic wear, a stark contrast to Danny's slightly too-big gym shorts and faded t-shirt. Every line of her body spoke of coiled power and effortless control. Danny, despite his nervousness and the impending physical humiliation, found himself admiring her. She was graceful, precise, and utterly captivating. He still couldn’t believe she was his girlfriend.
Danny swallowed, adjusting his ill-fitting boxing gloves. The air felt thick with unspoken potential. “Are you sure this isn’t a trap, Cass? This is exactly how horror movies start. Attractive girl lures dumb boy to an abandoned gym. Next thing you know, I’m the monster of the week, or worse, the first victim.” He tried for a lighthearted tone, a nervous tic. His heart was already doing a frantic jig against his ribs.
Cass smirked, a tiny, almost imperceptible curve of her lips that only Danny, after months of careful observation, could discern. She didn’t break eye contact. Instead, she gestured with one hand, slicing the air with effortless grace, an invitation. Come at me.
Danny sighed dramatically, trying to project exasperation rather than genuine trepidation. “Alright, alright, don’t mind if I do. Just try not to permanently rearrange my internal organs. I need those for, you know, living.” He charged forward, throwing a sloppy jab, more a hopeful lunge than an actual punch, that Cass easily sidestepped. He felt the faint whoosh of air as she moved, a phantom sensation that was almost as frustrating as the miss itself.
“Nice try,” she said quietly, her voice a soft murmur that was barely audible above Danny’s own heavy breathing.
He tried again. Punch. Dodge. Block. Danny’s form was… enthusiastic, but not exactly graceful. He moved with the raw, untamed energy of a brawler, relying on instinct and speed rather than technique. He was fast, surprisingly fast for a human, but Cass was faster. Much faster. She was a whisper of motion, always a step ahead, her movements economical and precise. He swung, she ducked. He feinted, she countered. He stumbled backward, rubbing his ribs where her foot had lightly, yet firmly, connected. It wasn't a hard kick, but it was perfectly placed, designed to remind him of his own clumsiness.
“Wow. Okay, that’s my spleen. I think it just sent a strongly worded letter to my brain,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Could you maybe say hi to it next time? Give it a heads-up?”
Cass didn’t laugh out loud, but the ghost of a smile, a genuine flicker of amusement, curved her lips. She moved around him, her dark eyes assessing, always assessing. He could feel her gaze, dissecting his every move, anticipating his next clumsy lunge.
“Do you come with subtitles?” Danny continued, trying to distract himself from the dull ache in his side and the crushing reality of his inadequacy. “Because I swear you moved and I didn’t see it. It’s like you blink-teleported or something. Are you secretly a speedster? Because that would explain a lot. And frankly, make me feel a little better about getting my butt kicked.”
Cass’s eyes flickered with amusement, but there was something else—an almost imperceptible softness in her gaze, a rare warmth that was reserved just for him. She liked his banter, his clumsy attempts, his sheer, unyielding spirit. She saw past the flailing limbs to the determination in his eyes.
Danny tried to hide his growing frustration behind a grin. He was a ghost king , for crying out loud. He could fly, turn invisible, phase through walls, shoot ecto-blasts. He fought interdimensional threats on a daily basis. But in a straight-up, human fistfight, he was getting thoroughly schooled by his ballerina girlfriend. “I’m clearly not built for this ‘non-ghost’ combat thing,” he mumbled, trying to sound self-deprecating rather than genuinely annoyed. “Maybe I should just stick to floating through walls and possessing inanimate objects. Much less painful.”
Cass paused for a beat, watching him. Her voice dropped to a softer tone, a rare moment of direct encouragement. “You’re better than you think.” She stepped closer, her hand moving to his shoulder, then gently guiding his elbow. “Elbow in. Hip turn. Follow through.” She demonstrated a simple jab, her movement fluid and powerful, yet slow enough for him to follow. “Power from ground. Not just arm.”
Danny nodded, trying to absorb the instruction, focusing intently on her movements. “Elbow in, hip turn, power from the… ground. Got it. Like… channeling my inner tectonic plate? Or maybe a really angry badger?” He tried the jab, focusing on her guidance. His elbow tucked in, his hip rotated, and he felt a surprising surge of power, though his follow-through was still a bit wobbly. He nearly overbalanced, but caught himself. “Whoa! Okay, that actually felt like something! Like I might actually hit something other than air next time!”
Cass gave a small, approving nod, a tiny flicker of pride in her eyes. “Good. Again.”
He tried again, and again, each time feeling a little more control, a little more connection between his feet and his fist. He was still clumsy, but there was a nascent strength emerging, a flicker of potential that even he could feel. He was actually learning .
Danny squared up again, a spark of determination igniting in his chest. This time he was going to land a hit. He dodged left, then right—then panicked as his body suddenly phased, slipping partially through Cass’s outstretched hand as she moved to block. His arm went transparent for a split second, passing through her, a cold, tingling sensation.
His eyes went wide, a cold dread washing over him. Oh no. Oh no no no. Not now. Not here. Not with Cass. He quickly pulled his arm back, trying to make it look like a clumsy stumble, shaking his hand as if he’d merely misjudged the distance. He forced a laugh that sounded a little too high-pitched. “Whoa! Clumsy me! Slippery hands, I guess! My grip just… gave out!” He forced another laugh, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. “Too much ramen, maybe? Or maybe I need to lay off the ecto-marshmallows. Uh, I mean, regular marshmallows. Yeah. Regular.” He winced internally. Smooth, Fenton. Real smooth.
Cass blinked slowly, her expression unreadable. Her eyes, however, lingered on his hand for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. She noticed. Danny could feel it, even if she didn’t react. The faintest glint in her eyes said she’d definitely noticed the phase. And she wasn't going to let him off the hook for it. Not entirely.
Before he could panic further, she swiftly swept his leg and, in one fluid motion, had him on his back on the mat. Before he could even register the fall, she was straddling his hips, her knees lightly pinning his legs, her hands braced on either side of his head. Her body, warm and lithe, was pressed against his, the soft fabric of her athletic wear a thin barrier. Her dark eyes, usually so calm, held a spark of triumph, and a hint of something else entirely. The air between them crackled with a sudden, unexpected tension that had nothing to do with sparring.
Danny, gasping for breath, his mind reeling from the sudden intimacy and the surprise of the pin, groaned, “Okay, that was cheating. You blink-teleported. I swear you did. That’s the only explanation. You were there, then you were here . It’s a classic move, I’ve seen it in… uh… cartoons.” He tried to sound indignant, but mostly sounded winded and acutely aware of her weight on him.
Cass tilted her head, a familiar, knowing smirk playing on her lips. No words. But the faintest glint in her eyes said she’d definitely noticed the phase. And she wasn't going to let him off the hook for it. The unspoken challenge, and the undeniable romantic tension, hung in the air.
She leaned in slightly, her voice a low murmur, barely audible. "Again. Get up."
Danny groaned, the sound muffled by the mat. "Again? Cass, I think my soul just tried to leave my body. I'm pretty sure that counts as a win for you." He looked up at her, pleading. "Can't we just call it a draw? Or maybe I win for surviving?"
C ass's smirk widened. She didn't move. Her eyes held his, a silent, unwavering demand.
With a dramatic sigh that seemed to deflate his very being, Danny pushed against the mat. "Fine, fine! Tyrant. You're a tyrant, you know that? A beautiful, terrifying tyrant." He slowly, painfully, pushed himself up, still feeling the phantom pressure of her knees on his hips. He wobbled slightly as he regained his footing. "One more round. Then I'm officially declaring myself a pacifist."
Cass gave a small, satisfied nod. She dismounted him with effortless grace, stepping back into her ready stance. This final round was shorter, more brutal, a test of his endurance. Danny pushed himself, fueled by a mix of stubbornness and the desire to impress her, but his movements were sluggish, his defenses weak. Cass moved like a shadow, a blur of precision, landing a series of quick, light taps that left him breathless and thoroughly defeated.
Finally, she stopped, her chest barely heaving. Danny, on the other hand, was bent double, hands on his knees, gasping for air, sweat dripping onto the mat.
"Done," Cass stated, her voice calm, a hint of finality in it.
Danny straightened up slowly, rubbing his aching side. "Thank. Goodness. For. That." He managed to wheeze out.
Later, they sat on the bench, sweat-soaked and bruised. Danny, sweaty and flopped on the padded floor, groaned dramatically. “Okay. We get it. You’re perfect. You win. Again. My dignity has officially left the building.”
Cass, sitting cross-legged beside him with not a single strand of hair out of place, calmly handed him a water bottle. “You almost got me.”
Danny raised a brow, a skeptical look on his face. “Cass. You literally kicked the staff out of my hand, disarmed me, and then choked me with my own hoodie. I think ‘almost’ is a very generous interpretation of that sequence of events.”
“…Almost.”
He chuckled, letting his head thump back against the mat. “I think I sprained my dignity. And possibly a few other things. Maybe my will to live.” He took a long swig of water, then added with a dry chuckle, “Guess I should stop expecting to be good at everything the moment I try. My parents always said I was a natural at everything. Clearly, they were lying.”
“You are good enough for me,” Cass repeated, her voice softer this time, a quiet declaration that made Danny’s heart do a little flip-flop. She carefully dabbed at a scrape on Danny’s cheek with a cloth she’d pulled from her bag. Her touch was feather-light, almost imperceptible, but incredibly precise. A blush raised across Danny’s face at her casual words, a warmth that had nothing to do with exertion.
“How are you so good at this?” Danny asked quietly, genuinely curious. He looked at her, her calm demeanor, her effortless movements. “It’s like… you’re a professional. Like you do this for a living or something. Are you secretly a ninja? Because I’m starting to suspect you’re secretly a ninja.”
She shrugged, eyes distant for a moment. “Practice. Need it.”
Danny nodded. He knew she was a world-class ballet dancer, and that required immense discipline and physical prowess. But this felt different. More… dangerous. More intense. He let the thought go. He had his own secrets, after all, big glowing green ones. He couldn't exactly push for hers.
Before Cass could respond, the door creaked open, slowly, ominously.
Danny glanced over and froze. “Um. Cass. Why are there three dudes who look like they could be in a leather-jacketed boy band standing in the doorway? And why do they look like they’re about to drop a diss track on my life choices?”
Cass barely blinked, her gaze unwavering. “Brothers.”
“Oh cool,” Danny said, then did a double take, his eyes widening. “Wait, all three?! You have three brothers?!” He knew about Jason, of course, but three? He tried to remember if Cass had ever mentioned more. His mind was still a little fuzzy from the sparring.
Dick Grayson stepped forward first, the picture of charm in civilian wear. He had a sunny smile that absolutely didn’t reach his eyes, which were sharp and analytical, taking in every detail of Danny’s bruised, sweaty state. He crouched beside Danny, his gaze assessing.
“Hey there, Danny,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too friendly. “We heard you’ve been spending a lot of time with our baby sister. And apparently, she’s been trying to kill you.” He glanced at Cass, a playful accusation in his tone.
Danny sat up a little straighter, suddenly acutely aware of his sweat-soaked clothes, the faint bruise on his cheek, and the fact that he was currently sitting on a gym mat looking like he’d been run over by a truck. “Uh… yeah. She keeps trying to kill me. It’s going great. Five stars. Would recommend. Very… invigorating. Builds character, you know?”
Jason Todd leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression flat, but a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. He was observing Danny with an intensity that made the hairs on Danny’s neck prickle. “That a complaint, or a kink, Fenton?”
Danny blinked. “Too soon, man. Way too soon. We just met. And for the record, neither. It’s called ‘character building through extreme physical discomfort.’ Look it up.” He shot a glance at Cass, who remained impassive, though a faint twitch at the corner of her mouth suggested amusement.
Tim Drake , the only one holding a tablet, didn’t even look up from whatever he was typing, his fingers flying across the screen. He spoke with the detached air of a clinical researcher. “Statistically, anyone who dates Cass either disappears, changes their name, or transfers schools. Just letting you know. The data is fairly conclusive.”
Danny blinked again, a genuine chill running down his spine. “Wait, what? Is that a threat? Because I’m pretty sure that’s a threat. And also, rude. I’m right here. And I’m not changing my name. Fenton is a brand. A chaotic, slightly dangerous brand, but a brand nonetheless.” He looked from Tim’s impassive face to Dick’s too-wide smile. “And ‘disappears’? What does that even mean? Like, witness protection? Or… disappears disappears?”
Jason pushed off the wall, stepping closer, towering a bit over Danny. His voice dropped, a low, gravelly rumble that was meant to intimidate. His eyes, dark and piercing, fixed on Danny’s. “We’re just here to make sure you know the rules. You break her heart, ghost powers or not, we will find you.” The last part was delivered with a slow, deliberate emphasis, a predatory glint in his eyes, a clear warning.
Danny’s brow furrowed, but a mischievous glint entered his own blue eyes. He met Jason’s gaze, a faint, respectful smirk playing on his lips. He understood the ritual. He’d seen enough movies. This was the “shovel talk.” And honestly, it was kind of hilarious, in a terrifying sort of way. “Ghost—what now? Is that like a new band? Because I’m pretty sure I’m more of a rock-and-roll kind of guy, not… whatever ‘ghost powers’ implies.” He paused, then added, with a perfectly straight face, a hint of his inner troll shining through, “But hey, I appreciate the concern. It’s sweet, really. Very… protective big brother energy. I get it. My sister Jazz is the same way, only with more psychology terms and less leather. Though she does have a proton pack, so, you know, equal opportunity intimidation.”
Jason’s dangerous grin faltered, replaced by a look of bewildered annoyance. He ran a hand through his hair. “Figure of speech, kid. Just… a figure of speech. Don’t overthink it.”
Danny nodded sagely. “Right. Well, if I do break her heart – and let’s be clear, I have no intention of doing that, she’s amazing, and also terrifyingly good at hand-to-hand combat, so I’m pretty sure she’d break me – you’ll have to get in line behind my parents, three actual ghosts, a cafeteria ghost I accidentally banished, and my AP Calc teacher. It’s a pretty long queue, actually. So, you know, maybe bring a book. Or snacks.” He looked deadpan at Jason. “Good luck with that queue, buddy. It’s a real commitment.”
Tim, finally looking up from his tablet, blinked. “…He’s weird. I kinda like him. He knows how to deflect. And his self-preservation instincts are… surprisingly robust for someone so sarcastic.”
Danny sighed again, more dramatically this time, pushing himself off the mat. “I’m in college now, man. Can I not be bullied by my girlfriend’s entire family? I just wanted to learn how to throw a punch without dislocating a shoulder. Is that too much to ask?”
Dick grinned, a flash of genuine amusement in his eyes. “No. Welcome to the family, Danny.”
Cass appeared beside Danny, silent as death. The boys immediately stepped back like they'd been caught lighting fireworks inside the Batcave, their intimidating postures dissolving into awkward shuffling.
Cass looked at Danny, then at her brothers. “Done?”
Jason nodded solemnly, still looking slightly flustered by Danny’s last comment. “We said the thing.”
Tim added, “He survived it.”
Dick shrugged. “And he didn’t cry.”
Cass turned to Danny, a faint, soft smile on her lips. “Want ice cream?”
Danny stood, ignoring the lingering aches, and pointed at her brothers without looking away from her. “Yes. Let’s get ice cream. Away from these psychos. And maybe somewhere close? My entire body hurts.”
Cass nodded. “Okay.”
As she walked past her brothers, they all subtly moved aside. Danny followed, shooting a nervous glance at Jason. Jason just winked, a mixture of exasperation and grudging respect in his eyes.
Danny muttered under his breath, “Gotham’s so freaking weird.”
📝 Author’s Note:
I don’t own these characters—just borrowing them to play! This crossover is a love letter to both the Danny Phantom and Batman fandoms. Thanks for reading and letting me throw Danny into chaos with the Batfam 💥 If you enjoyed it, drop a comment or send an ask!
CW: hostage situation, death threats, threats of dismemberment
"Why should I do what you want?" Caretaker asked, twirling a pen between two fingers.
"Why indeed." Whumper's deep voice came over the phone line.
"I am not going to risk my reputation for you."
"Is that so? Well, we'll just have to see about that."
The line went dead and Caretaker rolled his eyes. There was always someone who wanted something from him. He really didn't think anything of it when his phone rang about an hour later. Glancing at the familiar flash of his brother's name across the screen he answered and held the phone to his ear.
"Whumpee," he said, his attention half returning to the computer screen.
"Caretaker," it has been a long time since he'd heard that tremble in his younger brother's voice. Everything he had done, everything he'd accomplished, all the power he had amassed, it had all been done in the name of keeping Whumpee safe and well. His brother was his world.
"What's wrong?" Caretaker asked immediately.
There was a shaky little breath and then a rustling of the phone before another voice filled the line. "You really shouldn't leave something so precious to you so very vulnerable. You never know who might just... Snatch him up."
Rage, terrible and blistering tore through him at those words. But it was nothing compared to the shot of ice that raced up his spine when his younger brother's scream filled the line.
"Stop! Stop, don't you fucking lay a hand on Whumpee!" Caretaker snarled.
The scream cut off with a sharp slapping sound followed by a groan. "Tell your brother what I told you," Whumper said, there was another sharp slap and Caretaker couldn't hold back another tirad of cursing.
"He... He said..." His brother's voice was barely audible. Another slap.
"Louder Whumpee, I want to make sure your big brother hears this."
There was the telltale signs of tears in Whumpee's voice. "He said you will help him get what he wants... Or... Or... He'll kill me."
"That wasn't it Whumpee,"
Caretaker swallowed hard. "It's okay Whumpee, just tell me."
"All you'll get back is a finger," Whumpee finished with a horrible sob.
and Simon, Kate, Sophie and Philip scaring Lucy’s uncle away, loved that!! love them as big, protective siblings
Indeed John who, with his telekinesis is the only one truly safe from Lucy's powers as a child. The one who never looked at her in horror or fear--not even when he died...
Oh absolutely those four are protective siblings. So, it;s no wonder that when the Sparrows and Government agency attack, that it is those four who stand in the firing line...with varying consequences
Yes, yes I know I’ve got a myriad of aus floating around on here. But I’ve been thinking about Athena, Apollo and their relationship to Zeus. And that slid into the whole “prophecy of Zeus’s son overthrowing him,” au.
So…mythology (and even pjo canon) shows that gods don’t necessarily need to have an intimate relationship with each other or with mortals to have children. There also are differing myths regarding both Athena and Apollo’s births and if the other had already been born at the time.
With that being said. What if Apollo was secretly the son of Zeus and Metis? If Athena was born before Zeus got involved with Leto. If Metis managed to become pregnant with Zeus’s son while in his head, and when Zeus laid with Leto, Metis slipped her newly born son into Leto’s womb as she became pregnant with Artemis.
The reason why Apollo resembles Koios is due to the fact that a) Zeus and Leto are cousins, and b) all four of their parents are children of Gaia and Ouranous. Apollo knew the truth, but over the eons has buried his memory of his origins deep in the recesses of his mind. He chooses to claim the title of Artemis’s twin, rather than Athena’s younger brother, rightful claimant of Zeus’s kingship. And everything is fine. Until. Until Lester, and the trials.
See, when making a deity mortal, their mortal flesh can be changed drastically. But the things that cannot change between their true forms and their mortal forms are their eye color, and their facial features. And in this au, Lester heavily resembles Athena. His eyes burn blue with just the hints of gray around the pupil.
Athena is the first to realize something is off about Apollo’s mortal form. She manages to assure Zeus when he notices that it was simply the Fates making Apollo’s mortal form innocuous. Artemis is the second to truly realize something is up when she goes to heal Apollo, and feels no maternal bonds to Leto other than those which he had clearly built himself and her mother had eventually reciprocated.
But a goddess’s bonds to her children originate from her, not the child. Diana knows something is very wrong. And then she finds the withered and dead husk of a maternal bond Apollo has to someone else near the sparking paternal bond. But whomever was the one the bond originated with has long since faded.
Diana says nothing to Apollo or anyone else. When she returns to Olympus Athena meets her, and Artemis sees that like Apollo, Athena also has the withered /dead remains of a maternal bond sitting beside the electric living paternal bond all children of Zeus carry (whether they want to or not). Artemis is confused, but she still does not say anything. When Apollo reascends to Olympus, Athena is one of the first to greet him. In her stern and emotionless seeming mask, she gives him a firm nod, holding his gaze in hers. Which for Athena, is the equivalent of a bone-crushing hug.
Eventually, Artemis corners both Apollo and Athena about their dead maternal bonds and the truth comes out. There is drama, yes, anger, feelings of betrayal. But ultimately, the three of them band together along with Zeus’s other children, intent on either forcing Zeus to change or force him off his throne.
They refuse to let the death of Crest, Money Maker, Jason Grace and so many other demigods be in vain.
