A/N: originally written for Phanniemay 2016 day 17- "Food".

Tucker grunted as he finally gripped the edge of the FentonWorks roof with sweaty, aching fingers. He heaved one leg and then the other over the ledge, cursing his lack of flexibility but thanking God for his newfound relative strength. A year ago, he couldn't have climbed up here, he supposed.

Danny supposed he should turn around and see who was making noise at the far end of the roof, but his heavy-lidded eyes convinced him he didn't care enough to look. A ghost couldn't be making sounds of impact, they'd be flying. Chances were it was someone who wanted to talk, and Danny didn't bother to initiate contact.

If Danny heard Tucker climbing up, and Tucker knew he did, he showed no sign of it. The panting teenager was instead faced with the back of a t-shirt that might as well have said Keep Out and not even a twitch from the body beneath it.

"Not everyone can fly, ya'know," he huffed, taking careful steps towards the boy huddled on the ledge.

"Precisely my thought process," his weary voice responded.

"Well, if you're thinking about me climbing up a building, you can't be in that bad of a mood." He paused. "You missed me falling on my magnificent ass."

Finally, he was rewarded with half a giggle. Some of the worry melted from his shoulders and he spoke again with a softer voice. "You cold?"

Something heavy fell over Danny's shoulders, providing relief from the wind but doing little to stop his shivering. He had stopped trying not to shake sometime that afternoon anyway. Although he had to admit, the much-too-big leather jacket was soft on his skin. Sam's personal vendetta against leather slipped further from his understanding.

"Thanks."

He wrapped the jacket closer around him as Tucker took the spot next to him, trying to shield curious eyes from stealing the slight comfort he was easing into.

"So, uh…you've been kinda…sick, lately, dude." Too late.

"I'm dead, Tucker."

"You're a ghost, not a skeleton for fuck's sake!"

Tucker sighed at the steely look on the halfa's face. "Danny. You still need to eat. You're killing yourself here."

"Good."

The bitter mumble took a more direct route to Tucker's heart than he was prepared for. Quickly shaking the ow away, he prodded again, more gently.

"C'mon, whatever it is, we can fix it. I promise. You're exhausted, Danny look at yourself."

Nothing. Danny curled his fingers down from his eyes to his mouth.

"Are you…you're not doing this for looks, are you? You're fucking skinny, man, I swear-"

"No."

"Then…what is it?" he asked, hopeless.

It was only when Danny switched hands that he noticed. This whole skipping lunch, avoiding dinner, "forgetting" breakfast, dizzy-walking, long naps, bleary eyes, pale skin, visible ribs thing had been going on for over two weeks - and in that whole time, Tucker didn't think Danny had stopped covering his mouth.

"Hey," Tucker said, just as Danny was formulating a response. "Move your hand."

Cold, ghostly fear wriggled from his neck down. "I just-"

"No, Danny, c'mere-" Tucker's hand was reaching for his. The ghost boy nearly slapped him, but he was prepared for defense and fought for his wrists until finally Danny had no choice but to let him take them and try to keep his lips locked shut. "Open up, Danny, I'm serious."

"Mmm-mm."

"Danny." His jaw loosened at Tucker's hurt expression. "You can trust me, buddy, c'mon. With anything. You know that. There's no one here you gotta impress, Sam's not here, no one's here. It's just me. If you killed someone, I'll hide the body."

Danny let his hands fall limply into Tucker's and cracked his lips open with the pain of chapped skin separating. Tears gathered in his eyes the second he felt cold air on his teeth.

"I don't- Oh." Tucker let one of Danny's cold hands drop and lifted his free palm to Danny's cheek, leaning in to better see the small, pointed fangs growing down from his top row of normal human teeth. "Oh, Danny…"

Danny barely lasted until the last syllable of his name before he leaned forward, hiding his shameful teeth and shameful tears in the sleeve of Tucker's shirt. "I can't fucking eat when I eat like him," he managed, ignoring the quiet shhhs of his best friend. "God, what the hell am I going to do, Tuck, I look like him! I-I talk like him, I bet I'd fucking kiss like him."

"Shhh…"

"They grew in last month and I ripped them out and they won't come out this time I don't know what to do-"

"Danny." Tucker lightly tugged at his hair until he picked his head up. "Listen." He lifted Danny's hand, still gripping his own, and moved it around Danny's chest until he found a heartbeat. "Da- He doesn't have that. You do. Remember?"

The minutes passed in silence, Tucker keeping one firm hand pressing Danny's to his heart and the other around his shoulders. Past a certain point, he was sure Danny must be asleep, until he heard a whisper.

"I'm hungry, Tuck."

Tucker could not possibly have imagined how his heart started to beat stronger.