(Quick A/N: Sorry for how long it took me to upload this. I haven't had internet for a long time now, and I finally got it back yesterday. But anyways, here's chapter seven. I'm thinking I'm going to wrap this story up soon.)

Previously...Danny made it home that night on pure adrenaline. In his mind, he was running from something – someone – and he'd only feel safe once he was in his own room and in his own bed. Turned out that even when he got there, the halfa still didn't feel safe. When Danny finally worked up the nerve to go up to his bedroom door and peer out into the hallway, he found a note taped to his door explaining that Jazz was at a friend's house studying for exams and his parents were out at a ghost hunting convention that would last until the end of the week. It was only Tuesday. The halfa had tried to lay down and force himself to sleep, but he was too uneasy. Danny wasn't even comfortable enough to sleep at all anymore. It was going to be a long week.

Danny wasn't at school for a few days, and Dash noticed the absence like a heavy, black cloud hanging over his head. The blonde considered trying to find someone who would give him Danny's number, but Dash didn't know what he would say to anyone asking questions. Finally though, Friday after lunch, Dash spotted the telltale, messy black hair ducking into one of the almost never used bathrooms down the science wing.

Changing his course almost instantly, the jock made his way through the crowd and to the bathroom door, all the while ignoring Kwan's shouts of confusion from behind him. As an after thought, the quarterback turned back to face his friend and shouted out over the crowd, "Just go to class, man! I might be there later," before he disappeared through the doorway.

Dash let the door swing shut behind him before moving into the bathroom. Whatever he had been expecting, however, wasn't what he saw there. Dash began to round the corner and almost tripped over a huddled form, cursing under his breath as he steadied himself against the wall. Danny was tucked into a ball, sitting with his face pressed to his knees. Every few seconds, a choked sob echoed lightly throughout the bathroom.

Dash made his way over to kneel in front of the distressed teen, collecting the scattered papers around his shaking form before saying anything. "Danny," he sighed out. Danny jerked his head up, having been too distracted to hear Dash come in. He stared in shock at the quarterback until the final bell rang out in the hall, making him jump again.

"G-go away," Danny mumbled out, trying to wipe his tears away, only to have them be replaced immediately by fresh ones. His jeans were splattered with their marks. Dash shook his head, placing the pile of papers aside. "Not until you tell me what's wrong." Clenching his jaw and avoiding Dash's questioning gaze, Danny stayed silent and fiddled with the black sleeves covering and hiding his still healing body.

"Danny, what happened?" The halfa kept his mouth shut. Dash sighed again, frustrated and concerned. "Goddamnit, Fenton..." he muttered under his breath. "Did they do something to you again?" Danny looked up at that, murder in his eyes. Dash just shrugged. "Well? Just tell me, and–" The quarterback didn't get a chance to finish his sentence; nearly the entirety of Danny's measly 100 something pounds hit him with open palms and plain-as-day anger, cutting his words off as he rocked backwards slightly from the hit.

"What the hell is it about 'go away' that you don't understand?!" Danny's voice was hoarse and his eyes were wide and flecked with green. Dash sighed again. "Danny, I'm just trying to help you."

"I don't need your help!"

"Yeah, obviously not." The sentence was accompanied by a disbelieving snort and rough hands being flung wide at the scene in front of the blonde; Danny flinched back from the harsh note in the other's voice. Neither said anything for a long while. Finally, "I'm sorry about the other day. At my house, you know." Dash ran a hand through his short cropped hair.

When Danny glanced up, his eyes were nervous but no longer flecked green, so Dash supposed that that was a step in the right direction. "Why?" his voice wasn't as hoarse anymore, just quiet and awkward.

"Why did I do it, or why am I sorry?" Danny shrugged. "Both." Dash sighed for the umpteenth time. "I'm sorry because I freaked you out." Silence filled the abandoned bathroom as Danny waited for the second half of the answer and Dash bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check.

"So why did you do it then." The halfa finally muttered, studying his hands with a less-than-dispassionate look on his face. "Danny, I..." the jock shrugged helplessly, grasping for words as his mind failed him. The other never looked up. "A while ago, I guess, I – I asked Kwan to ask some people for me...To see if you were...I dunno, and I guess that, in their minds, it translated into...permission to hurt you, or something."

Dash shrugged, the motion jerky and small, his head ducked and thick fingers tugging at his jacket sleeves. Danny muttered something vaguely English sounding and lifted his head after a while. "Asked them to find out if I was what, Dash?" The quarterback could hear the anger seething just beneath the surface of the other's words; he didn't have to raise his head to see that Danny was pissed.

"I wanted them to find out if you were– I mean, fuck, Danny. I like you, alright? I just needed to figure out if you were...available, I guess." The bathroom fell silent as Dash let the words hang between the both of them. And then, of all things, Danny snorted. The snort turned into an almost hysterical laugh, which then turned into a halfhearted mix of laughter and sobs together.

The halfa wiped at his eyes with the black sleeves, shook his head slightly and looked up. "You could've just asked me, Dash. I might've even considered it." The blonde was silent for a short second, stumbling over his words when he finally got them out. "Is it too late to ask then?" Danny gave him a cross look.

"You are unfriggin'believable," he muttered finally, when he decided Dash was being serious. Dash chose to ignore the statement in favor of pointing out the obvious. "You're still wearing my hoodie."

"You're still a jackass." The insult came out with a breathy, humorless laugh, Danny still in a state of disbelief towards the other. Another lengthy silence fell over the pair. Danny picked his papers up from where Dash had set them aside, slipping them into a folder and finally standing to his feet. Dash followed suit, shouldering his backpack and watching Danny struggle to find a comfortable way to hold his own.

Taking pity on the injured halfa, the quarterback simply took the backpack from Danny and motioned for him to head for the door. Blue eyes partially hidden behind a black fringe rolled towards the ceiling and before the two reached the hallway, Danny muttered, "You know, people are gonna talk if you just suddenly start being nice to me."

Dash shrugged, a smirk slipping onto his face. "They always talk, even when there's nothing to say. So I say go ahead and let 'em." He didn't see Danny's smile.