Danny never got much of a chance to visit the Ghost Zone as much as he'd liked to when he was younger. Mostly because the majority of the ghosts there wanted to maul him. But now, after the whole Disasteroid thing that took place about five years ago, Danny made a truce with the Ghost Zone's residents and now the Halfa was more than welcome to visit.

      Danny Phantom was currently on his way to Ghost Writer's because the writer needed help with something and though Danny asked for specifics, Ghost Writer simply said he needed help with stuff. So here Danny was, flying off to the ghost's lair with no context for what he was helping with. He was a little nervous though because even though he apologized a couple years ago at a Christmas Truce party for ruining Ghost Writer's story, it was like the writer was sort of tense around Danny.

      Once arriving, Danny floated down in front of the front door and raised a hand to knock. Before he could even touch it, the doors opened to show a slightly aggravated Ghost Writer with a stack of books tucked under his left arm arm and a cup of supposedly coffee in his right hand.

      "You're twenty minutes late, Fantôme¹," Ghost Writer said flatly, stepping aside to let Danny in. Danny stepped in, the doors quietly shut behind him, and the two made their way to what Danny assumed was Ghost Writer's living room.

      "I didn't mean to be late, I had stuff to do and you kinda put me on the spot for this," Danny responded somewhat defensively, taking a seat at a small table covered with books and balled up papers. "You haven't even told me what you needed my help with."

      Ghost Writer glanced over at Danny and shrugged, taking a long sip from his mug before setting it as well as the books he had down in front of Danny at the table he sat at. "Whatever, it's fine," he muttered loud enough for Danny to hear. "You're here now, and I guess that matters enough." He adjusted his scarf before grabbing a chair from the other side of the table and took a seat. "So, I need your help planning this year's Christmas Truce party."

Danny raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly foreward with interest. "So you're planning it this year? Never thought you as much of a party kind of ghost, much less someone who likes any kind of social interaction."

"That's the point," Ghost Writer grunted, resting his chin on one hand and grabbed for his drink—which Danny caught a whiff of and God did it smell weird—and took a long sip before continuing. "Everyone put it on me this year to plan it as a way for making up for messing up the Christmas truce a few years back which, I will agree, got a bit out of hand." He huffed and gave a half smile, looking into his mug. "Breaking the truce is honestly the dumbest thing a ghost can do. I'm just glad I wasn't in Walker's prison long. It's terrifying in there. He taunted me with an orange and put me in a cell with someone you probably wouldn't want to mess with." Ghost Writer shivered slightly at the thought of being there again and took a short sip of his drink before setting it back on the table. "Ugh, I'm getting off topic. Fantôme, I need your help with this because you probably have more friends now than I did both alive and dead, therefore you have better experience with partying and socializing and all of that other connerie²."

"Why couldn't you ask another ghost to help? Like Ember or Johnny and Kitty?" Danny asked, standing up and crossing his arms, tilting his head ever so slightly foreward. "I know you're still not entirely comfortable around me, which I completely understand. Wouldn't it be easier to ask literally anybody else?" Ghost Writer looked up at Danny for a few moments before giving a light smile and shaking his head before floating off the chair, legs changing to a ghosty tail in the process.

     "Êtes-vous toujours aussi mignon lorsque vous interrogez les autres, mon adorable fantôme³?" the writer sighed before taking hold of Danny's arm and pulling the Halfa along to the kitchen. Apparently Ghost Writer's mug was empty and he didn't exactly trust Danny alone and out of his sight in his own home. "I have my reasons, Fantôme. Let's just leave it at that for now."

     Danny let himself be pulled along as he furrowed his brows in confusion. "What did you just say?"

     "I said that I have my reasons-" Ghost Writer began with an annoyed tone before getting cut off in the middle of repeating himself.

     "No no no, I mean the French thing. What did you say?"

     "Well, if I wanted you to know then I would have said it in English, mon petit chou⁴," Ghost Writer retorted with a smirk that gave Danny goosebumps along his back. Not the bad 'this guy is planning something evil' kind but the 'damn that look is pretty hot' kind. Danny shook away the thought before he started blushing. Instead the Halfa continued the argument to keep his mind wandering off to whatever he was probably gonna think about.

     "See, there it is again! God, is this what parents feel like when their twin kids use a secret language to talk to one another without getting caught? Cause it sucks," he joked, finishing his sentence just as he and Ghost Writer entered the kitchen. Ghost Writer let go of Danny's arm and floated over to a cupboard and opened it, taking out a packet of instant hot chocolate and three small Five-Hour Energy bottles. Oh God, so that's what was in the mug? ...Ew.

     Ghost Writer filled the mug with the bottles and a little bit of tap water before opening the cocoa packet and dumping the contents in, stirring the heinous mixture, and putting it in the microwave and timing it for two minutes. When done preparing his drink, Ghost Writer turned back to facing Danny with an amused look.

     "Shouldn't you have taken a foreign language class by now, Fantôme? When we first met you seemed no older than a tenth year student." Ghost Writer leaned slightly against the counter top, waiting for a response.

"Well duh," Danny answered, placing his hands on his hips, "it's a graduation requirement. But I took Spanish instead of French and it wasn't until now that I regret making that decision." Ghost Writer chuckled and Danny let out an annoyed huff in response.

      The rest of the time it took for Ghost Writer's drink to warm up was filled with a surprisingly comfortable silence. The microwave beeped and Ghost Writer took out the mug and stirred the drink a little bit more, looking over at Danny once more. "I'll get decorations and snacks and all of that, but I need you to put together music and games and basically everything else."

      "Hey, I didn't even agree to helping you," Danny pointed out, taking his hands off his hips and leaning back slightly against the counter. "Are you completely sure you want my help? I'm still not the biggest fan of Christmas, even after I learned my lesson and lightened up a bit. How do you know it won't end up being terrible?"

      "Fantôme, I said I have my reasons. Just trust me on this when I say I need your help for the stupid party." Ghost Writer floated to be at eye level with the Halfa and though his expression was serious, the ghost's jade green eyes were pleading for Danny to agree. Danny's toxic green eyes narrowed slightly before he sighed with defeat. "Fine, I'll help you. But I need you to put effort into your part. Everyone put this on you to do." Ghost Writer smiled and he relaxed a bit, his ghostly tail shifting back into legs as he set foot on the floor.

      "Good. I knew I could count on you for at least this. Now if you'll excuse me," Ghost Writer grabbed Danny's hand and pulled the Halfa off to the front door, "I've got another visitor coming over and I'd prefer if it were only them and I. We can go over more of this, let's say, tomorrow around noon? Great! Au revoir(5), Fantôme." Not waiting for a response or answer, Ghost Writer pushed Danny out the door and closed it behind the Halfa. With a sigh and a light shake of his head, Danny took off back to his home.

      "I'm gonna find out what he said, one way or another," Danny noted to himself.

•   •   •

      "Sam, Tucker, you guys took French in highschool, right?" Danny asked as the three sat in Danny's room, each doing their own thing. Sam was sitting at the foot of Danny's bed and had a purple leather bound book in her lap, a little more than half of the pages already read. Tucker sat at Danny's desk, typing away on his PDA. Danny himself was sitting at the head of his bed, writing stuff down of a sheet of paper.

      The three had still stayed the closest of friends throughout their highschool years. Though Danny and Sam had broken up after six months in their relationship—which had shocked everyone, they seemed like the perfect couple and everyone saw how much they pined over one another—it was pretty mutual and they remained in good spirits.

      After highschool, they'd all gone off to do their own thing. Sam spent the past four years traveling the states to help out more with the causes she was supporting when she finally actually looked into what she'd been defending since freshman year. Tucker went off to a university in California for programming and videogame designing. After four years of college and graduating, Tucker returned and took it easy, becoming a part-time teacher at Casper High and helping develop videogames in his spare time. Danny went to the local college in Amity Park, keeping close to keep his hometown safe from any rogue ghosts and hang out with the ghosts he made friends with.

      "Yeah, but I honestly don't remember much from that class," Tucker answered, looking up from his electronic. Though the techno geek didn't gain much muscle, he had a great increase in height and was now, when standing, 6' 2. He still kept his red cap he wore when he was younger, but traded his yellow long sleeve and cargo shorts for an orange t-shirt, a white long sleeve undershirt, and blue jeans with the ends frayed a bit.

      Sam didn't look up from her book when she answered, "Yeah, it was one of the few classes I actually enjoyed." Sam had grown a few more inches, but wasn't too noticeably taller unless you knew her when she was young. She wore a black tank top with a dark purple hoodie with grey mid-thigh shorts and torn black leggings. Her hairstyle had changed to a pixie cut and she wore dark blue lipstick and eyeliner. "Why are you asking?"

      "I need a bit of help with translation," Danny replied, setting the paper aside and putting the pen he was writing with behind his ear and sat up a bit straighter. Danny's height, unlike Sam's, was the most noticeable of the trio. Though he wasn't as tall as Tucker, being small and lanky most of your life and suddenly hitting 5'8 and gaining muscle—mostly from fighting ghosts over the years but who's keeping track of that—is quite the shock. Along with the height, Danny's hair grew out a bit in the back and rather than cut it, the Halfa kept the few inches of hair tied up in a loose ponytail with Sam's old neon green hairband. He wore a dark green t-shirt with a yellow and white star pattern on the front and black skinny jeans. Where his skin wasn't covered, which currently were his arms, you could see scars of varying sizes and different colorations depending on how old and deep the marks were. All of them were gained from the hundreds of ghost fights he'd been in over the years.

      "What do you need translated, Danny?" Sam asked, finally looking up from her book and marking her place by slightly folding the upper corner of the page she was on.

     "It's just a couple of phrases someone said to me. I'm sure you guys remember I took Spanish so if either of y'all can tell me what he said I'd appreciate it." Danny swing his legs over the bed and got off, standing up on his bedroom floor. "The one I can remember better was something like 'mon peteet show' maybe? The other was too long but I'm almost sure there was the word 'adorable' thrown in there." Danny looked to his friends for an answer and while Tucker nodded and went to look up a translation on his PDA, Sam only gave an amused smile and a raised eyebrow.

      "The phrase you're thinking of is mon petit chou, Danny," Sam began with a small laugh. "And a guy told you this?"

      "Uh, yeah. Sort of a long story which I can explain later, but apparently it means something funny according to your expression," Danny answered feeling a bit worried.

      "I mean, it's technically a term of endearment but," Sam laughed a bit before continuing," but in English it roughly translates to 'my little cabbage'." Tucker heard this and laughed too, putting down his electronic to look at Danny who currently had his brow furrowed with confusion.

     "Why would Ghost Writer call me a little cabbage?" Danny wondered aloud before realizing he just said it aloud and looked at his friends nervously. Sam and Tucker had stopped laughing and one looked at Danny with surprise and the other with confusion.

     "Ghost Writer?" Tucker echoed with a confused tilt of his head.

      "The guy who supposedly put you in a "Night Before Christmas" remake and made you almost ruin Christmas those years ago?" Sam added.

      "Look, let me explain," Danny began, taking a seat back on the bed as he began with how Ghost Writer wanted Danny to come over and help with something.

•  •  •

      Ghost Writer closed the doors behind Danny with a sigh. Waiting a few moments to make sure the Halfa was gone, the writer gave one more sigh of relief before turning around and cupped a hand to his mouth and said, "Alright, you can stop hiding, he's gone."

      From another room Clockwork floated out in his child form, his expression mostly neutral but his red eyes bright with content. His hood was down unlike usual and it showed soft and short hair combed back, the sides cut a lot shorter than the top.

      "Thank you, Ghost Writer," Clockwork said as he floated over to the other. "I promise you that this is for the best for both you and Daniel to take this path."

      "I don't see what importance there is to planning a Christmas party together, but if it's getting you to get out that clock tower of yours to see somebody like me, then I won't ask questions," Ghost Writer said then took a sip of his drink. Looking at Clockwork he relaxed a bit and became a bit more casual. "It's great to see you again, by the way. Hardly anyone had heard from you in decades. Is everything alright?"

      Clockwork nodded a bit, face still neutral but body a bit more relaxed as the time ghost shifted into adult form. "Everything is as it should be," he said ominously, the faintest of smiles gracing his lips as he spoke. "And please stop drinking that garbage, you have no idea how caffeine consumption like that can mess up your core."

      "You can't tell me what to do, you're not my dad," Ghost Writer joked, taking an unnecessarily large sip from his mug to prove a point. Clockwork chuckled as did Ghost Writer before the writer choked on his drink and ended up in a coughing for that lasted a good ten seconds before the room was filled with silence.

      "But seriously, please stop drinking that stuff," Clockwork said again, interrupting the silence. "I unfortunately have to take my leave, for I myself am actually expecting some unwanted but necessary guests back at the clock tower." Clockwork went over to the door and nodded downward as a goodbye before leaving out the front door, leaving Ghost Writer to himself and the sudden realization of what he told Danny when he slipped into French.

      "Crud, I really hope Fantôme doesn't try to translate any of that."

______________________________

1: "Phantom"

2: "bullshit"

3: "Are you always this cute when questioning others, my little Phantom?"

4: "my little cabbage"

5: "Goodbye"