Hello everybody! I know nobody likes long introductions, but please read this. Thank you so much to everybody reading this. This is the very first fanfiction I have ever written, and I hope you will like it. I would also like to give a huge thanks to Lynse, Tay1019411, and FallingNarwhals for helping me with the editing and giving me so much advice. This story would not be what it is today without them. Thank you!

Also, this chapter has just been freshly edited by the amazing and wonderful sorcerousfang! Thank you so much! There weren't any major changes, but this one will read better.

I do not own Danny Phantom.

And now, I present to you Slip-Ups and Suspicions.

. . . . .

Dash trailed after his favorite punching bag, smirking to himself for his own genius. Not only had he managed to squash Fenton's pathetic attempt at resistance, but he also managed to cow him into going to a secluded area. The stupid idiot even asked to go outside for his wailing. It was too perfect a chance to let pass. By trying to delay his fate, he had just made it worse. Now I can go all out without worrying about teachers or Fenton's dorky friends getting in the way. And school is already over so there is no time limit, Dash thought, pleased with himself. Fenton had led the way out the back lunch area and into the thick trees beside the school.

Who knew wearing colored contacts would work so well with the geeks? He had originally intended to use them for football. He needed to try them, especially after watching Matt Jameson, his star and role model, score touchdown after touchdown. With his eyes a crazed flaming orange, it was like the other team couldn't even touch him. The next day Dash had ordered himself a pair that were blood red.

Today was his first trial run with them, and what a response he got. The reaction was immediate. All of his friends thought he was the coolest, and the dweebs all ran for cover. All except for Fenton.

The minute he spotted Dash's eyes, he started acting all weird and angry, hissing something about a truce while calling him an amorpho, whatever that was. Must be a geek insult.

A glare and a defiant rebuke that he was not an amorph and that no truce would get him out of his wailing was all that was needed. Fenton just sort of wilted, looking resigned, and that's when he meekly suggested they go outside after school. Too perfect. The idiot has no idea what he's gotten himself into.

Dash frowned for a moment. Fent-tina had kept a scary close eye on him the rest of the day, watching him throughout class and in the halls. It was strangely creepy. He must have realized he was in for the wailing of a lifetime, and was scared witless.

Now that time had come, and Fenton led the way behind the school and into the thick wooded area around the picnic tables.

Dash made his steps intentionally loud, cracking twigs and stomping all the while. It was a simple tactic that always made the nerds quiver in their shoes, anticipating what is to come.

He looked up at the branches overhead, reveling in his brilliance. A brisk spring breeze wound its way through the trees, sending their leaves shivering. It was the last vestiges of the passing season. Goosebumps rose on Dash's arms under his letterman jacket, a useless trait that had long since lost its purpose.

Suddenly, he realized he couldn't hear any footsteps but his own. He stopped and looked back down at where his entertainment was supposed to be, fearing that Fent-toad had somehow given him the slip.

Luckily, the nerd was still there. He was pretty quiet for someone who had such a staggering reputation of being extremely clumsy. He just chalked this up to the geek trying to be quiet enough to not be noticed. Dash increased his pace just a bit so that he was closer to the smaller boy. Too bad Fent-tina, you can't escape me that easily.

I can't wait to see what his face looks like when he finally turns around, Dash grinned. He must be ready to wet his pants, he's so scared of me. That's why he is so quiet. Dash kept his red eyes on Fenton, making sure he wouldn't try to slip away with his quiet little 'woodland animal footsteps'. Imagining Fenton as a squirrel almost made him laugh out loud. The image of Fenton with furry ears, overhanging front teeth, and a big bushy tail was fabulous. Fits him perfectly. That skittery little loser runs away at the drop of a hat. He chuckled. Yes, this was going to be fun.

Images of squirrel-Fenton kept him occupied before his smile gradually began to fade. It was weird. Fenton was just walking steadily into the woods as if he knew exactly where he was going. On top of which, he wasn't shaking or trembling or anything. He didn't even look tense.

They had only been walking for all of a minute in the trees, but Dash was growing impatient. The lack of response to any of his intimidation tactics was infuriating. He is trying to stall for as much time as possible. Was Fenton not afraid of him? That needed to be fixed. He cracked his knuckles loudly and basically growled.

Nothing. No response. No change. He just kept on walking.

That was it. Dash was just about ready to grab the disrespectful wimp and throw him into a tree, when they entered a clearing. Did Fenton know this was here? Oh well.

In the dead center of the clearing, Fenton stopped in his tracks, still facing away. Dash stopped about six feet away from where Fenton stood. Finally. It's about damn time.

"Yo Fent-turd. You ready to pay for calling me amorpho? You're the amorpho." Might as well use his own insult against him. A triumphant smirk adorned Dash's face as he stared down at his prey, arms crossed. This is going to be brilliant. No teachers, no big mouthed geeks, nothing stopping me. This was going to be the wailing of a lifetime.

"You can drop the act now. Nobody is around to hear us," Fenton informed coolly as he pivoted on the spot to face the jock. Dash started at the coldness in his tone, but was shocked even more by the look the wimp was giving him. Fenton stood squarely in front of him, with his shoulders back and his head tipped slightly forward,his bangs casting his face in slight shadow, his eyebrows low as he peered at Dash. His eyes were like razorblades of ice and almost seemed to glow in the shadow on his face. It felt as if those eyes were burrowing straight into his soul. A shiver snaked its way up his spine. He stepped back, wavering under the penetrating gaze. What the hell? This has got to be some kind of joke. Fenton looks almost … threatening.

Dash shook his head. This is the wimpiest, most docile kid in school. This is just an act, Dash reassured himself. He was secretly proud for remembering what docile meant. With one more quick snap of the head, he dislodged his thoughts and shook off his surprise. He was going to call Fenton out on his bluff. Regaining his footing and composure, he turned to face the pretender once more. Wow, though. I have to give him credit for perfecting that look. It was just so… unnatural.

He hid that thought's resulting shudder with his next comment. "Perfect. That is just what I was hoping for," he responded smoothly, smacking a fist into his palm. Glee lit up his face at the prospect of a good wailing. He imagined snapping that unnaturally calm and cold look off of Fenton's face. A good wedgie and being hung up in a tree in the middle of nowhere is sure to fix that. He needed to be reminded of his proper place. Besides, even though it was fake, that look was really starting to creep him out. That had to stop. Nothing scares Dash Baxter.

"Good. Now that that's out of the way, who are you and what do you want?" His icy words were crisp and echoed throughout the clearing. The slight breeze from earlier returned just enough to sway his inky bangs slightly as he spoke. The shadows on his face shifted eerily, creating a very sinister effect.

Dash stared for a moment. How is he doing that? Did he do that on purpose? No, stupid; it was just the wind. Good effort on the creepy scale, but the stupid question totally ruins it. Dash replied in his favorite snarky voice, exuding all his own self-importance, "What kind of stupid question is that? I am here to wail on you, obviously. Or did I scare you so much you forgot that?" He narrowed his red eyes slightly, trying to look more intimidating.

"I said you can drop the act. You are good. I will give you that. That's the best Dash impersonation I have seen so far, but your eyes are a dead giveaway. Seriously dude, you need to get that fixed. Now, I will repeat myself, who are you and what do you want?" Fenton's voice bit sharply at the end of the question.

Dash's chest tightened as he looked at the little twerp. Who does he think he is? He can't question me like that. And what the hell is he talking about? One wailing won't be nearly enough for such an oversight.

Fenton's eyes bored into him. Dash glared back. "Who do you think you are, daring to talk to me like that? You're in for it now, and nobody is here to save your hide this time!" he spat, his face turning slightly red. What's the world coming to? Losers back talking and commanding A-listers. A-listers! He clenched his fist. He wanted to tackle the wimp right then and there, but he held himself back, anticipating a decent reaction of cowering with pleas for forgiveness when the wimp realized his mistake.

Fenton stood calmly in the same position he had been in since they first entered the clearing. "Of course nobody's around, that's the whole reason I brought you out here. You didn't do anything at school, so that can't be it. Are you here to spy? You're certainly weak enough my sense didn't go off. Do you work for Vlad?"

The breeze picked up again. This time it sent the whole clearing shuffling. Everything shifted and swayed except the two crystal orbs that remained immovable, still fixed on Dash.

Dash was frozen. He couldn't make heads or tails of what was going on. What the hell was he talking about? Luckily his face didn't betray his confusion, but he hadn't had enough time to recover before Fenton was speaking again. "This isn't the first time I've dealt with overshadowing. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Up to you. And just so you know, information is the only reason you haven't been shoved in a thermos already. So get talking, or it won't be pretty." His eyes seemed to flash bright blue for a moment to emphasize his point.

How the hell is he doing that? And what the freaking hell is he talking about? In a rare spark of brain power, comprehension dawned on Dash. He thinks I'm a ghost.

Fenton must have thought he was a ghost because of the contacts. Dash heard rumors about how people's eyes changed colors when they were being overshadowed. Fent-turd must actually believe it.

He really is a nut job, just like his parents.

Dash almost laughed. It was so outlandish. Does that little loser seriously think he is tough enough to take on a ghost? Ha! We'll see about that.

A feral smile danced across his lips as he came up with a rather brilliant plan, if he did say so himself. He narrowed his eyes. Fine. If he wants a ghost, I'll give him a ghost. He thought. This was going to be so much fun to watch.

"What makes you think you can force me to do anything? I am here because I want to be, and nothing you do can change that. I'm not going anywhere." He let all the egotism and arrogance he could muster seep into every word. Nailed it!

Dash crossed his arms and leaned back slightly onto his back leg. With his chest puffed out, he looked down his nose at the figure in front of him, putting his red contacts on full display. Oh yeah.

He expected Fenton to shrink away, to admit defeat when challenged by a 'real' ghost. What he didn't expect was for Fenton to suddenly drop his head to pinch the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and sigh in exasperation. "Oh my God. I don't have time for this. Why can't intimidation work once? Just once?" he muttered under his breath.

The impending threat of a ghost attack hadn't fazed him in the least. It was as if it was inconsequential, as if it was nothing. If anything, he treated the threat more like a troublesome pest than anything else.

Once again, Dash found himself completely surprised. That quickly morphed into anger. Fent-toenail should have been begging for mercy long ago. What? Am I not good enough for you?

Dash fumed, glowering down at the Fent-twerp. What kind of reaction was that? Fenton is treating me like a bug! A speck! As if I am nothing but a-a-a misbehaving child! Am I not worth your time or something?

Nobody took light of Dash Baxter. Nobody. He was the star quarterback of Casper High. The king of the school. He had looks, muscles, talent, brains, money, modesty, everything! There was no way he was going to let this sorry excuse for a punching bag treat him like dirt.

"What's the matter? Gonna run away? Not man enough to fight?" Dash's mocking jibes were punctuated by insulting gestures. "Oh no! Whatever will I do?" He raised the back of his hand to his forehead and leaned back in a stereotypical fainting motion. He righted himself and leaned forward with his hands balled into fists. "You are nothing!" he growled.

As Dash spoke, Fenton took one reluctant step, bent his legs slightly, leaned forward, and raised his fists. "Looks like it's going to be the hard way. Why is it always the hard way?" he grumbled quietly.

He assumed his battle stance with a smoothness that can only be achieved through experience and practice. Of course, this went completely unnoticed by Dash.

Dash would have laughed at Fenton if he wasn't trying to keep up the whole ghost charade. The wimp looked like he was about to hit him. Him, Fenton, who couldn't even break a pencil if he tried, hit Dash Baxter, Dash Baxter.

"This is your last chance. Talk or get out of Dash now!" Steel laced his words.

Dash looked down his nose, scoffing at the two shining lights under the midnight curtain of hair. That look still gave him the chills.

"Or what? You'll waste me? I would like to see you try!" Dash barked a laugh. It is so past wailing time, Fent-tina!

"Okay big boy, you wanna dance? Let's dance."

That was all he needed. Dash swung.

Dash's right arm flew around, aiming for Fenton's face. Fenton easily ducked, stepping under the blow and then righting himself behind Dash. Dash's swing forced him off balance when his fist didn't connect as he expected it to. He staggered, and then whirled on Fenton.

"Uhn uhn uhn," Fenton said, waggling his finger at Dash as if he were scolding a small child. "Can't have Dash getting anymore unexplainable booboos, now can we? I don't know how much longer he's gonna buy the whole football excuse." Cocky smirk already in place, Fenton resumed his stance.

Dash's face flamed, and he decided that this twerp was going to get what's coming to him. All bets off.

"Tell you what, since you obviously can't use any of your other powers while overshadowing, we'll restrict it to hand to hand combat. I could use the practice," Fenton stated flippantly.

When Dash attacked this time, he swung his left fist downward instead of from the side, thinking that Fenton would try ducking again. Sidestepping out of the way instead, Fenton sighed in boredom. "I'm just glad Dash won't remember any of this tomorrow… again."

Hearing this, Dash's face reddened and wrinkled in a snarl, quickly followed by a short but fast series of blows. Fenton nimbly dodged and ducked. He could see all of Dash's punches years before they even came close to him. What the freaking hell? How is he moving like that? And it's like he isn't even trying! Oh well, dodging is just a weakling's tactic. I just need to get one good hit in and he's done for.

Fenton yawned and then stuck his hands in his pockets as he leaned back matrix style. Dash's next fist flew overhead. Dash's face was a shade of purple at this point.

"Tell me, why does everyone always insist on possessing Dash anyways? You aren't being very creative. I mean, I'm surprised he has enough memories in his brain to function at all, not that there was much there to begin with. I personally don't see the appeal," Fenton said easily as he smoothly took a step to his left to stand and look down at Dash's outstretched arm. His voice hadn't so much as quavered as he kept his hands in his pockets like he was without a care in the world.

"You calling me stupid?" Dash thundered, trying again to land a punch on the traipsing dweeb. What the freaking hell is up with Fent-toad? Did he take dance lessons or something? All I need is one good hit. One good hit.

"No. I was calling Dash stupid, but you know what?" Fenton tilted his head slightly both to avoid a fist and to somehow manage to look thoughtful. "That works for you, too."

You've got some fancy footwork there, Fenton. Let's see how you do when I take that away.

"Hey! I'm smart enough. Smart enough to beat you!" Without warning, Dash shot his foot out to swipe Fenton's out from under him.

Got him!

Dash's moment of satisfaction was practically nonexistent. Just as Fenton was starting to fall back, he pulled one hand out of his pocket to reach above his head as he bent all the way back. With the flexibility and mastery of an olympic gymnast, he planted his outstretched hand on the ground and bounced off it, performing a perfect back handspring and landing on his feet.

Fenton continued as if nothing had happened. "You see? That right there was almost as cliché as overshadowing Dash."

"What the. Hell. Are you. Talking. About?!" Dash punctuated each pause with a punch, not that any of them actually hit anything.

"Well, you're the one in him. Just take a look if you don't believe me. I'm pretty sure you can at least do that much. I mean you practically were him today. I know everybody wants to think they're unique, but you're already a year too late for that, buddy." Fenton glided effortlessly through the motions, stepping this way and that to avoid Dash. His smirk remained unchanged throughout the exchange.

"Prove it," Dash shot back. His arms were starting to feel heavy. He wanted to end this, but nothing he did was working. Heck, it didn't even look like Fenton was breaking a sweat.

He tried a fake punch to the left, immediately followed by a jab to the right where Dash thought Fenton would dodge. Instead, he simply didn't move at all, not falling for the faint.

"Seriously?" Fenton sighed. "He should have several gaps of time missing. Sometimes a few hours, sometimes a few days, and maybe a week here or there," Fenton drolled on, sounding almost bored. "Those are all times he has been overshadowed. Seriously, it's like a weekly thing at this point. Ha! I bet his head looks like Swiss cheese by now." Fenton's laugh echoed throughout the clearing.

Fenton was laughing at him. Dash didn't understand what he was saying, but it must have been an insult.

"Really?" Sarcasm was clearly evident in his tone. "Like when?"

"You're not very good at this whole banter thing are you? Oh well. Let's see... I think the first major time was when Walker overshadowed him during the whole 'kidnapping the mayor' incident." Fenton used the hand he hadn't put back in his pocket to put up quotation marks. "I mean, Walker later switched to the mayor, but then one of his goons took over. So I think that totaled... little over a week, I think? Running himself into lockers; I'm past that phase, by the way. Oh! And then there's last Tuesday."

Dash wasn't really listening. He was too busy trying to land a blow before he tired much more. Just one is all he needed.

"This is fun and all, but I really need to get going. It's about time I wrap things up." Fenton stepped out of Dash's reach, his back facing the jock. He put both his hands behind his head and leaned back to peer up at Dash as if he were relaxing on a lawn chair.

"By the way, sorry to tell you this, but you're easier to beat than that old lady last week. Even though I would like to continue this little dance of ours, I would much rather give Dash a piece of my mind when he's actually here to enjoy it. If he is just going to forget, where's the satisfaction in that?" Fenton had turned around again to face Dash.

In a last ditch effort, Dash shouted in outrage and put all his force into one last punch to the idiot's smirking face.

What happened next is something that Dash Baxter never thought possible. In one fluid motion, Fenton stepped to the side, grabbed Dash's arm, and simultaneously swept Dash's feet out from under him with a light kick. Fenton twisted the arm behind Dash's back before he even hit the ground.

Dash fell among the dirt and leaves with a loud "Ooph!" as the wind was knocked out of him. Somehow, though, it hadn't hurt at all.

What the hell is going on? He pinned me?! How in the name of Football and all things sacred did he do that?! He's a wimp! Dash's mind tumbled over his thoughts as if somebody set the spin cycle on high. He couldn't make heads or tails of anything as he lay there with his face buried in the dirt.

Fenton sat on his back, still holding his arm in an unyielding but not painful grip. Dash turned his his head so one cheek rested on the ground as he tried to catch his breath.

He attempted to peer over his shoulder with one eye as best he could, breathing hard. Dash could just make out the very edge of Fenton's shoulder, the one that wasn't pinning his arm.

"I warned you," a glacial voice of pure power said above him. It chilled Dash to the bone.

The weight on his back shifted slightly, and the elbow of a drawn fist peeked into view. It looked like it was aimed straight for the back of his head. The elbow flashed out of view like a bullet. Dash shut his eyes and waited for impact.

It was as if somebody had dumped ice water on his head. No, in his head, and it felt like it was moving around, reaching into his brain.

Dash couldn't move. He would have shrieked, but he was completely frozen in place. Dash couldn't think. Everything was consumed by the cold. It somehow tickled something at the back of his mind, as if it happened in a dream.

After a moment, there was a confused grunt behind him, and the icy probe withdrew. Dash gasped in lungfuls of air as soon as it left. His panting puffed dust into the air, and he had to blink hard to clear his eyes, red shifting at the edge of his vision.

The then ice came again, exploding through his back and into his chest, reaching around wildly.

The form on Dash's back went rigid, and the cold stilled in its relentless exploration. "There is no one in here…" came a whisper almost too quiet to hear.

"But the eyes…" The voice was desperate. Fenton's face suddenly shot into the view of Dash's only visible eye. Pure ice blue stared into the single red eye below.

Dash blinked hard after his gasps kicked up more dust. The red shifted. A look of shock crossed Fenton's face. "Colored contacts?" he breathed in disbelief.

His expression quickly morphed into one of horror as he transferred his gaze to the entirety of the boy trapped beneath him. "...Dash? That's really you?"

Dash managed a grunt, still recovering from the two shocks of cold.

"You wouldn't by any chance remember what happened in say the last fifteen minutes or so, would you?" Fenton questioned in a falsely light tone, a forced smile in place.

"FENTON!" Dash shouted into the dirt.

"Oh crud."

. . . . .

Thank you. Thank you so much if you are reading these words right now. This is the first fanfiction I ever wrote, and this is what I have to say: "Bring on the flames!" I want to be a good writer even if it's just for fun. I can't improve unless I know what I am doing right AND what I am doing wrong. I can't fix a problem I don't know exists. Any comments at all will make my week, even just one word or somebody saying they didn't like a certain part. I just want to know that somebody read it. I have an idea about where this could go. Do you want me to continue it?

A bit of background on it. I had just pulled a complete all nighter to finish all my chemistry homework and was tired as hell. At about 4:30 in the morning, while taking a ten minute break, I had this image of Dash wearing colored contacts and Danny mistaking it for overshadowing, then Danny totally whupping Dash's sorry behind to kingdom come! It was a fun image and made me smile, but I went back to work when my ten minutes were up.

After my four and a half hours of chemistry were up, the image returned with a vengeance. I decided to make a story out of it. So right after class I spent the next 7 hours writing the first draft, four of which were at my school's library.