Chapter Text
The flight into Amity Park was tedious, as all mortal transportation inevitably proved to be. Vlad Masters reclined in his first-class seat, swirling a glass of tomato juice that the flight attendant had been kind enough to provide—though she'd given him an odd look when he'd specified it must be room temperature, never chilled. He gazed out the window at the sprawling Midwest town below, its modest skyline a far cry from his penthouse views in Wisconsin.
Why was he here again?
Ah yes. Boredom.
Twenty years of immortality, and one would think the novelty of eternal life might sustain itself. But no—the business acquisitions had grown stale, the political maneuvering predictable, even his various revenge plots against Jack Fenton had lost their luster after the man had proven himself too oblivious to properly appreciate them. Vlad had ruined the man's patent applications, bought out his suppliers, even anonymously sent his ridiculous ghost-hunting inventions to late-night talk shows for mockery. Jack had simply laughed it all off, called it "character building," and continued his buffoonish existence with that infuriating optimism intact.
So Vlad had decided a more direct approach was in order. A visit. Perhaps he'd enjoy seeing Maddie again—those brilliant blue eyes, that sharp mind wasted on a fool. But if he was being honest with himself (a rarity, but immortality did occasionally demand self-reflection), he was mostly curious about the boy.
Daniel.
Little Danny Fenton, who'd graduated early from high school at sixteen after cramming extra courses online, who now worked odd jobs around town instead of pursuing college like any sensible young man. Vlad had kept tabs, naturally. One didn't become a successful vampire and businessman without maintaining proper intelligence networks. The boy had grown into something... interesting. No longer the gangly fourteen-year-old Vlad remembered from his last visit. By all accounts, Danny had filled out, grown into himself, developed that particular brand of cynical humor that came from seeing too much too young.
Vlad smiled into his tomato juice. Yes, annoying Daniel would be an excellent way to pass the time.
The cab ride from the airport took him through Amity Park's depressingly cheerful streets. Autumn had painted the trees in gaudy oranges and reds, and families were already putting up Halloween decorations despite it being only mid-September. How quaint. How mortal. How utterly predictable.
He'd texted Jack that he was in town—a calculated risk, but one that paid off within minutes. His phone had immediately exploded with enthusiastic messages, complete with excessive exclamation points and at least three typos per sentence. Jack insisted Vlad stay with them, wouldn't hear otherwise, Maddie would be thrilled, they had a guest room, it would be just like old college days!
Vlad had allowed himself to be persuaded. It had taken approximately one text message.
Now, standing on the front porch of Fenton Works with his single leather overnight bag (he traveled light—one of the few advantages of vampirism was that he didn't need much), Vlad pressed the doorbell and prepared his most charming smile.
The door exploded open.
"VLADDIE!"
Jack Fenton hadn't changed. Still built like a refrigerator, still wearing that absurd orange hazmat suit, still possessing the volume control of a foghorn and the spatial awareness of a drunk elephant. He swept Vlad into a bear hug that would have cracked ribs if Vlad still needed to worry about such things.
"Jack," Vlad wheezed, playing up the breathlessness. "Good to see you too, old friend. Perhaps with slightly less enthusiasm for my skeletal structure?"
"Ah, you're fine! You're fine!" Jack released him, clapping him on the shoulders hard enough to stagger a normal man. "Maddie! Mads! Vlad's here!"
Maddie emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel, and Vlad felt that familiar stirring of old desire. She'd aged beautifully—laugh lines around her eyes, a few silver threads in her auburn hair, but still possessing that fierce intelligence and grace that had captivated him in college. She wore jeans and a simple blue sweater, domestic and lovely.
"Vlad," she said warmly, accepting his much gentler embrace. "What a surprise! Jack said you were coming, but I didn't think you'd actually stay with us. Don't you usually prefer hotels?"
"Normally, yes," Vlad said smoothly, releasing her with appropriate reluctance. "But I thought it might be nice to spend some quality time with old friends. It's been too long."
"Four years," Maddie said. "Not since Danny's middle school graduation party."
Had it been that long? Time moved strangely when you were immortal. Four years felt like four months, yet also like four decades. "Far too long indeed," Vlad agreed. "I trust Daniel is well?"
"Oh, Danny's great!" Jack boomed. "Graduated early, you know! Took all those extra online classes, finished high school in three years instead of four. We're so proud!"
"How impressive," Vlad murmured. "And what is he doing with all that academic prowess now?"
Maddie's smile tightened slightly—ah, there was a sore spot. "He's taking a gap year. Working around town, figuring out what he wants to do."
Translation: the boy was directionless, working minimum wage jobs, probably sleeping until noon. Vlad's smile widened. "How wonderfully... bohemian of him."
"He's upstairs," Jack said, oblivious to the subtle tension. "Probably still sleeping, the lazy bum! DANNY! DANNY, GET DOWN HERE! VLAD'S HERE!"
A muffled thump from above suggested that Jack's foghorn voice had achieved its intended purpose. Vlad heard footsteps, then the creak of stairs, and then—
Oh.
Daniel Fenton appeared at the bottom of the staircase, and Vlad had to consciously prevent his expression from shifting. The boy had indeed grown. He was tall now, nearly Vlad's own height, with a lean build that suggested wiry strength rather than bulk. His black hair was characteristically messy, sticking up in all directions as though he'd just rolled out of bed—which he probably had. He wore sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, and his blue eyes were still heavy with sleep.
Those eyes sharpened immediately upon seeing Vlad.
"Vlad," Danny said flatly. "Great."
"Daniel," Vlad returned, injecting warmth into his tone that he knew would irritate the boy. "My, how you've grown. Quite the young man now, aren't you?"
Danny's jaw tightened. "Yeah. That's what happens. People grow. It's kind of a thing."
"Danny," Maddie said reproachfully. "Vlad's our guest."
"Right. Guest." Danny shuffled toward the kitchen, clearly aiming for coffee. "How long are you staying?"
"Oh, I haven't decided yet," Vlad said airily, following the boy with his eyes. "A few days, perhaps. A week. However long it takes to properly catch up with your wonderful parents."
The look Danny shot him over his shoulder suggested the boy knew exactly what Vlad was doing and didn't appreciate it one bit. Excellent.
"Well, you're staying in the guest room," Jack declared. "I'll get your bag! Make yourself at home, Vladdie! We're having breakfast in a bit—you hungry?"
Vlad was always hungry, but not for anything the Fentons could provide. "I ate on the plane," he lied smoothly. "But I'd love to join you all. Family breakfast sounds delightful."
He caught Danny's eye roll as the boy disappeared into the kitchen.
Yes, this was going to be fun.
Breakfast at the Fenton household was exactly as chaotic as Vlad remembered.
Jack had prepared what he called his "famous Fenton flapjacks," which were less famous and more infamous, if the way Danny drowned his in syrup to mask the taste was any indication. Maddie had made eggs and bacon to compensate, and the kitchen table was laden with enough food to feed a small army. Jazz, the daughter, was apparently away at college—Harvard, Maddie had mentioned with obvious pride—so it was just the four of them.
Vlad had positioned himself strategically across from Danny and next to Maddie. He'd made a show of taking small portions, pushing food around his plate in a way that suggested polite disinterest rather than complete inability to digest solid food. He'd perfected this technique over the years. A bite here, a bite there, all carefully palmed into a napkin when no one was looking. The bacon he could manage in small amounts—something about the blood content—but the pancakes were utterly impossible.
"So Vlad," Maddie said, passing him the orange juice, "what brings you to Amity Park? Business?"
"Partially," Vlad said, accepting the juice he wouldn't drink. "But mostly pleasure. I realized I've been working too hard lately, neglecting the important things. Friends. Connections." He let his eyes linger on her just a moment too long. "Beautiful company."
Maddie laughed, but there was a slight flush to her cheeks. "Still the charmer, I see."
"Someone has to be, to balance out Jack's approach to social interaction," Vlad said dryly.
"Hey!" Jack protested through a mouthful of pancake. "I'm plenty charming!"
"You once tried to impress a potential investor by showing him your collection of ectoplasmic samples," Maddie said. "He left before dessert."
"His loss! Those samples were fascinating!"
Vlad watched Danny watching this exchange, the boy's expression carefully neutral as he sawed at his pancakes with more force than strictly necessary. Those blue eyes flicked to Vlad occasionally, wary and irritated in equal measure.
"And what about you, Daniel?" Vlad asked, turning his attention fully to the boy. "Your mother mentioned you're taking a gap year. How entrepreneurial. What sort of work are you doing?"
Danny's knuckles whitened on his fork. "Odd jobs."
"How wonderfully vague. Anything specific?"
"Stock boy at the grocery store. Some tutoring. Whatever pays."
"Tutoring," Vlad repeated, as though this were fascinating. "In what subjects?"
"Math. Science. English. Whatever people need help with."
"Hmm. And here I thought with your early graduation, you'd be pursuing higher education. College applications, perhaps? Scholarships?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Danny's eyes, when they met Vlad's, were cold. "I'm taking a year off. It's not that weird."
"Oh, I'm not judging," Vlad said, knowing full well his tone suggested otherwise. "Everyone moves at their own pace. Some people are simply more... ambitious than others."
"Vlad," Maddie said, a warning note in her voice.
"I'm merely making conversation," Vlad said innocently. He turned back to Maddie, deliberately shifting his body language to exclude Danny from the discussion. "You know, Maddie, you look absolutely radiant this morning. That color brings out your eyes beautifully."
"Oh, this old thing?" Maddie touched her sweater self-consciously, but she was smiling. "I've had it for years."
"Some things only improve with age," Vlad said smoothly. "Like fine wine. Or beautiful women."
Jack laughed obliviously. "Vladdie, you old dog! Still got that silver tongue!"
Danny made a sound that might have been a gag or a cough. When Vlad glanced at him, the boy was staring at his plate with an expression of profound suffering.
"Are you alright, Daniel?" Vlad asked with false concern. "You look a bit ill."
"I'm fine," Danny ground out. "Just lost my appetite."
"Shame. Your mother's cooking is excellent." Vlad took a deliberate bite of bacon, chewed slowly, swallowed with effort. "Absolutely delicious, Maddie."
"Thank you, Vlad. It's nice to have someone appreciate it." She shot Danny a look. "Some people just shovel food in without tasting it."
"I taste it," Danny muttered. "I taste it a lot. Every morning."
The meal continued in this vein, with Vlad making subtle comments that walked the line between charming and insufferable, complimenting Maddie just a touch too often, asking Danny questions designed to highlight the boy's current lack of direction, and generally making himself comfortable in a way that clearly made Danny deeply uncomfortable.
It was delightful.
Vlad noticed things, though. Small things. The way Danny's jaw clenched when Vlad leaned closer to Maddie. The way the boy's fingers drummed against the table when Vlad spoke, as though he was physically restraining himself from responding. The way those blue eyes kept tracking back to Vlad, watching him with an intensity that was almost... interesting.
There was something there. Something more than simple irritation at a family friend overstaying his welcome. Danny was wound tight, tense in a way that seemed excessive for the situation.
Curious.
"So Danny," Jack said, apparently oblivious to the undercurrents at the table, "you working today?"
"Not until tomorrow," Danny said. "I've got the evening shift at the store."
"Perfect! You can show Vlad around town! Give him the grand tour!"
The look of horror on Danny's face was absolutely priceless. "Dad, I'm sure Vlad doesn't want—"
"Nonsense! Vlad's never really seen Amity Park properly! You could show him all the local spots, the park, that new café downtown—"
"I'm actually pretty busy this morning," Danny said quickly. "I've got... things. To do. Important things."
"Like what?" Jack asked.
Danny's mouth opened and closed. "Like... stuff."
"Very articulate," Vlad murmured.
Danny's glare could have melted steel. "I'm going for a walk," he announced abruptly, standing up. "Need some fresh air."
"Oh, a walk sounds lovely," Vlad said, rising as well. "I'll join you."
"No."
"Daniel, don't be rude," Maddie said. "Vlad's our guest."
"I'm not being rude, I'm just—" Danny looked between his parents and Vlad, clearly trapped. "Fine. Whatever. But I'm leaving in five minutes."
He stalked out of the kitchen, and Vlad heard his footsteps thundering up the stairs.
"Don't mind him," Jack said cheerfully. "He's not a morning person. Never has been."
"Teenagers," Maddie sighed. "Well, young adults now, though sometimes I wonder if he'll ever really grow up."
"I'm sure he'll find his way eventually," Vlad said, though privately he doubted it. The boy seemed determined to waste his potential out of sheer stubbornness. "A walk will be nice. Give us a chance to catch up properly."
What he didn't say was that he was genuinely curious now. Danny's reaction to him was stronger than expected, more visceral. There was history there that Vlad didn't fully understand—he'd barely interacted with the boy during previous visits, had written him off as just another teenager, awkward and forgettable.
But this Danny, this grown version, was neither awkward nor forgettable. He was sharp-edged and wary, watching Vlad like he was a threat.
Which, to be fair, Vlad was. But Danny shouldn't know that.
Unless...
No. Impossible. Vlad had been careful. His vampiric nature was well-hidden, his feeding discrete, his supernatural abilities kept firmly under wraps around mortals. There was no way the boy could know what he was.
Still. That look in Danny's eyes. That tension.
Interesting.
Vlad helped Maddie clear the table, playing the perfect gentleman, complimenting her home and her hospitality. Jack had already disappeared into the lab—something about ectoplasmic filtration systems—leaving Vlad alone with Maddie in the kitchen.
"I'm sorry about Danny," she said quietly, rinsing dishes. "He's been... difficult lately."
"Difficult how?"
"Just moody. Withdrawn. He graduated early, and we thought he'd be excited about college, but he keeps putting off applications. Says he needs time to think." She sighed. "I worry about him."
"He's young," Vlad said. "Young people often need time to find themselves."
"I suppose. I just wish he'd talk to us more. He's always been secretive, but lately it's worse." She glanced at Vlad. "Maybe having you around will be good for him. A different perspective."
Vlad smiled. "I'll certainly try to be a positive influence."
What he meant was that he'd try to be as irritating as possible, because watching Danny squirm was rapidly becoming his new favorite hobby.
Footsteps on the stairs announced Danny's return. He'd changed into jeans and a jacket, his hair still a mess but at least looking more awake. He had his phone in one hand and a pair of earbuds in the other—clearly planning to ignore Vlad for the duration of their walk.
"Ready?" Danny asked, not looking at Vlad.
"Absolutely," Vlad said cheerfully. "Lead the way, my boy."
"Not your boy," Danny muttered, but he was already heading for the door.
Vlad followed, catching Maddie's amused smile as he left. The morning air was crisp and cool, perfect autumn weather, and the sun was bright overhead. Vlad had fed well before his flight—a willing donor in Milwaukee, paid handsomely for her discretion—so the sunlight was merely uncomfortable rather than dangerous. He'd learned to tolerate it over the years, though he'd never enjoy it.
Danny set off down the street at a brisk pace, clearly hoping to make this walk as short and silent as possible. Vlad kept pace easily, his supernatural stamina making the exercise trivial.
"So," Vlad said conversationally, "where are we going?"
"Away," Danny said shortly.
"How specific. You know, Daniel, if you didn't want me to come along, you could have simply said so."
"I did say so. You came anyway."
"True. I suppose I'm just curious about what you do with your time these days. Your mother seems concerned."
Danny's pace increased. "My mom worries about everything. It's kind of her thing."
"Still. Working odd jobs, no college plans, living at home at eighteen. One might wonder if you're avoiding something."
"One might mind their own business."
Vlad laughed. "Touchy. I'm merely making an observation."
"Yeah, well, observe someone else."
They walked in silence for a moment, Danny's jaw tight, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. Vlad studied him from the corner of his eye, noting the tension in the boy's shoulders, the way he kept glancing at Vlad as though expecting... something.
"You don't like me very much, do you, Daniel?" Vlad asked, genuinely curious now.
Danny stopped walking. They were on a residential street, trees overhead filtering the sunlight into dappled patterns on the sidewalk. When Danny turned to face him, those blue eyes were hard.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Somewhat. I'm curious as to why. We barely know each other."
"Maybe that's why," Danny said. "You show up every few years, flirt with my mom, act like you're better than everyone, and then disappear again. It's weird."
"I'm old friends with your parents. Is it so strange that I'd visit?"
"It's strange that you only visit when you're bored," Danny said flatly. "Yeah, I heard you tell my mom. 'Mostly pleasure.' You're here because you've got nothing better to do, and you figured you'd come mess with us for entertainment."
Vlad blinked. The boy was more perceptive than he'd given him credit for. "That's quite an accusation."
"It's not an accusation if it's true." Danny turned and started walking again. "Look, I don't care what you do. Flirt with my mom, whatever. Just... stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours."
"But where's the fun in that?" Vlad asked, catching up easily. "Besides, I think we could be friends, Daniel. We have more in common than you might think."
"I seriously doubt that."
"Oh, I don't know. We're both intelligent, both underestimated by those around us, both somewhat isolated." Vlad paused. "Both keeping secrets."
Danny's step faltered, just for a moment, but Vlad caught it. Interesting. Very interesting.
"Everyone has secrets," Danny said, but his voice was less certain now.
"True. But some secrets are bigger than others." Vlad smiled. "Don't worry, Daniel. I'm not here to expose anyone's secrets. I'm simply here to enjoy myself. And if that happens to involve annoying you..." He shrugged elegantly. "Well, consider it a bonus."
Danny stopped again, turning to face him fully. "Why me? What did I ever do to you?"
It was a fair question. Vlad considered it, tilting his head. Why was he so fixated on needling this particular boy? There were plenty of people he could annoy. Jack was an easier target, Maddie more rewarding in some ways.
But Danny...
"You're interesting," Vlad said finally, honestly. "Most people are boring, Daniel. Predictable. But you... there's something about you that I can't quite figure out. It intrigues me."
"Well, stop being intrigued. Be intrigued by someone else."
"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. Once something catches my attention, I tend to be rather... persistent."
Danny stared at him for a long moment, and Vlad had the distinct impression he was being evaluated, measured against some internal metric. Then the boy shook his head.
"You're weird, Vlad. Like, really weird."
"I've been called worse."
"I bet you have." Danny sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Fine. You want to walk? We'll walk. But I'm not playing tour guide, and I'm not making small talk."
"Fair enough," Vlad agreed, though he had no intention of honoring that agreement.
They continued down the street, and Vlad found himself genuinely enjoying the morning despite the uncomfortable sunlight. There was something refreshing about Danny's blunt hostility. No pretense, no false politeness. Just honest irritation.
It was almost... endearing.
Not that Vlad would admit that. He was here to be a nuisance, to amuse himself at the boy's expense, to flirt with Maddie and irritate Jack and generally make himself a memorable houseguest.
But as they walked through Amity Park's quiet streets, Danny stubbornly silent beside him, Vlad found himself paying attention to small details. The way Danny's eyes scanned their surroundings constantly, alert in a way that seemed excessive for a morning walk. The way he moved, balanced and ready, as though expecting trouble. The way he kept a careful distance from Vlad, never quite letting him get too close.
"So," Vlad said after a few minutes of silence, "how does one occupy oneself in Amity Park after graduating early? I imagine the social scene is rather... limited."
"It's fine."
"Fine. That word again. You use it frequently."
"Because things are fine."
"Mmm. And these 'petty jobs' your mother mentioned? What do those entail?"
Danny's jaw tightened. "Stock boy at the hardware store. Sometimes I help at the Nasty Burger. Riveting stuff."
"With your academic achievements, you could be doing internships, building a resume—"
"Yeah, well, some of us have other priorities."
"Such as?"
"Such as none of your business."
Vlad smiled. "You're very defensive for someone with nothing to hide."
"I'm defensive because you're annoying."
"Fair point."
They turned a corner, and the street opened up to reveal Amity Park's cemetery—a sprawling collection of weathered headstones and Gothic monuments that would have been perfectly atmospheric if not for the cheerful morning sunlight ruining the ambiance.
Danny glanced at it, then at Vlad, and something shifted in his expression. A hint of dark humor.
"You know," Danny said, "most people would think it's weird that you wanted to come on this walk. But passing a cemetery together? That's really on brand for you, Vlad."
Vlad raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Yeah. I mean, you've got the whole creepy rich guy aesthetic going. The cape-adjacent coat, the widow's peak, the general aura of 'I definitely have a portrait aging in my attic somewhere.'" Danny gestured vaguely at him. "Walking past a graveyard is like... your natural habitat. Should I be worried you're going to start monologuing about mortality?"
Vlad stared at him for a moment.
Then he laughed.
Not his usual condescending chuckle or polite social laugh—actual, genuine amusement that caught him off guard. The boy had just compared him to a Gothic villain with such casual accuracy that it was almost impressive.
"My natural habitat," Vlad repeated, still smiling. "That's... actually quite good, Daniel."
Danny looked surprised by the reaction, then suspicious, then grudgingly pleased with himself. "Yeah, well. If the shoe fits."
"Or the cape, as it were."
"You don't actually own a cape, do you?"
"Would you be disappointed if I said no?"
"I'd be disappointed if you said yes."
They continued past the cemetery, and Vlad found the tension between them had shifted slightly. Still antagonistic, still wary, but with an edge of something almost playful. As though they'd found a rhythm they could both tolerate.
The commercial district of Amity Park was modest but well-maintained—small shops with colorful awnings, a few cafes, the inevitable chain stores. Vlad's eyes caught on a boutique with tasteful window displays, the kind of place that sold actual quality clothing rather than mass-produced garbage.
He slowed, then stopped.
"Let's go in here," he said.
Danny, who had continued walking, stopped and turned back. "What?"
"This shop. I'd like to buy you some better fitting clothing."
Danny's expression went through several rapid changes—surprise, suspicion, offense, and something else. Something that looked almost like want before he shoved it down.
"I don't need new clothes."
"Daniel, you're wearing a shirt that's at least two sizes too large and jeans with a hole in the knee that I suspect is from wear rather than fashion."
"So? It's comfortable."
"It makes you look like you're drowning in fabric." Vlad gestured toward the boutique. "You're eighteen, not twelve. You should dress like you have some self-respect."
"I have plenty of self-respect," Danny said, but his eyes had flickered toward the shop window. "I just don't care about impressing people with expensive clothes."
"It's not about impressing anyone. It's about presentation. First impressions. Basic dignity."
"I have dignity."
"In that shirt?"
Danny's glare returned full force, but Vlad could see the conflict playing out behind those blue eyes. Pride warring with want. The desire to tell Vlad to shove his offer warring with the clear temptation of new clothes that actually fit, that weren't worn thin from too many washes.
The desire to make Vlad spend money on him.
That last part was particularly transparent, and Vlad found it fascinating. The boy wanted to hurt him in whatever small way he could—and what better way than to accept an expensive gift and give nothing back?
"I don't want your charity," Danny said finally, but his conviction was wavering.
"It's not charity. Consider it..." Vlad paused, pretending to think. "An investment in not having to look at that shirt for the duration of my visit."
"Wow. You're such an asshole."
"I'm aware. So? Are you going to continue being stubborn, or are you going to let me buy you clothes that don't make you look like you're wearing your father's hand-me-downs?"
Danny's jaw worked. His hands shoved deeper into his pockets. His eyes went back to the boutique window, lingering on a dark blue henley displayed on a mannequin.
Vlad waited. This was the interesting part—watching the boy's pride struggle against his practical desire. Watching him try to justify accepting something from someone he clearly disliked.
"Fine," Danny said abruptly. "But I'm picking what I want. And if you try to make me try on anything weird, I'm leaving."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Vlad said smoothly, already moving toward the shop entrance.
He held the door open, and Danny walked through with the air of someone heading toward an execution rather than a shopping trip.
Vlad smiled to himself as he followed.
This was going to be entertaining.
The boutique was small but well-curated, the kind of place that catered to Amity Park's limited population of people with actual taste. Soft lighting, clean lines, clothing arranged by color and style rather than crammed onto racks. A far cry from whatever bargain basement establishment had produced Danny's current wardrobe.
A woman in her forties looked up from behind the counter, her professional smile brightening. "Good morning! Let me know if you need any help."
"We will, thank you," Vlad said pleasantly.
Danny had already gravitated toward the casual section, hands still in his pockets, looking at everything with studied disinterest that didn't quite hide his actual interest.
Vlad moved past him, scanning the offerings with a critical eye. The henley Danny had been looking at in the window was decent—a dark navy that would suit his coloring—but the fabric quality was only passable. He pulled it from the display anyway and draped it over his arm, then moved to the shirts.
"What's your size, Daniel?"
"Medium," Danny said, not looking at him. He was examining a gray hoodie with the kind of intense focus people usually reserved for legal documents.
"Hmm." Vlad selected a charcoal button-down in a slim fit, soft cotton with a subtle texture. Then a black henley, better quality than the navy. A deep green sweater that would bring out the blue in Danny's eyes—not that Vlad was thinking about Danny's eyes specifically, just that the boy had his mother's coloring and the green would work.
"I'm not wearing that," Danny said, apparently having developed eyes in the back of his head.
"You haven't even seen it properly."
"It's green. I don't do green."
"You don't 'do' green," Vlad repeated, amused. "How very decisive of you."
"It's a ghost thing," Danny muttered, then seemed to catch himself. "I mean—just. I don't like green, okay?"
Interesting. Vlad filed that away and returned the sweater, selecting a dark burgundy instead. "Better?"
Danny glanced over, and something in his expression shifted. "Yeah, actually. That's... that's nice."
The woman from the counter had drifted closer, her smile warm and knowing. "Shopping for your nephew?"
Vlad felt Danny stiffen beside him.
"Something like that," Vlad said smoothly. "He's in desperate need of wardrobe intervention."
"I'm standing right here," Danny said flatly.
"Yes, and you're still wearing that shirt, so my point stands." Vlad moved to the jeans, dismissing several pairs before finding ones that looked like they might actually fit properly. Dark wash, good construction, none of that distressed nonsense. He added them to his growing collection.
"Those are going to be expensive," Danny said, eyeing the jeans.
"Yes, well, quality usually is."
"I could get three pairs at—"
"At wherever you usually shop, yes, and they would last you a quarter as long and look half as good." Vlad turned to face him fully. "If I'm spending money, Daniel, I'm not going to waste it on garbage. Now, are you going to try these on, or shall I simply guess and hope for the best?"
Danny's jaw set in that stubborn line again, but he reached out and took the items from Vlad's arm. "Fine. But I'm not trying on anything ridiculous."
"The fitting rooms are just back there," the woman said helpfully, gesturing.
Danny stalked off, and Vlad took the opportunity to browse further. A leather jacket caught his eye—too expensive for a casual purchase, probably, but the quality was excellent and the cut would suit Danny's frame. He was examining it when the woman approached again.
"Your nephew is lucky to have you," she said. "A lot of young men his age don't have anyone to teach them about dressing well."
"He's... resistant to instruction," Vlad said dryly.
She laughed. "They usually are at that age. But he'll appreciate it later, even if he won't admit it now."
Vlad made a noncommittal sound and draped the jacket over his arm as well.
When Danny emerged from the fitting room, Vlad's attention sharpened immediately.
The charcoal button-down fit well—better than well, actually. It followed the line of Danny's shoulders properly, tapered at the waist without being too tight. The boy had filled out more than his terrible clothing suggested. Not bulky, but lean and athletic, the kind of build that came from actual physical activity rather than a gym.
"Well?" Danny asked, defensive. His hands moved like they wanted to go back in his pockets, but the shirt was tucked in—Vlad noted with approval that he'd done that without being told—so he crossed his arms instead.
"Turn around."
"What? No."
"Daniel. Turn around."
Danny's glare could have stripped paint, but he turned in a slow circle.
The fit was good in the back as well, sitting properly across his shoulders. Vlad nodded. "Acceptable. Try the henley next."
"This one's fine, I'll just—"
"You're not purchasing one shirt. Try the henley."
Danny disappeared back into the fitting room with a muttered comment that sounded distinctly like "bossy asshole."
Vlad smiled.
The henley was even better. Black suited Danny—made him look older, brought out the sharp line of his jaw and the paleness of his skin. The fabric clung just enough to suggest the lean muscle underneath without being obscene about it.
"That's a great look on you," the shop woman said, appearing at Vlad's elbow. "Really brings out your features."
Danny flushed slightly. "It's just a shirt."
"It's a well-fitted shirt," Vlad corrected. "There's a difference. The burgundy next."
Three shirts later—Danny keeping the button-down, both henleys, and the burgundy sweater that made him look unfairly good—they moved to the jeans.
"I'm not coming out here to model jeans," Danny called from the fitting room.
"Do they fit?"
A pause. "...Yeah."
"Properly? Or are you lying to avoid my commentary?"
"They fit fine, Vlad. Jesus."
"I'll take that as properly." Vlad turned to the woman. "We'll take those as well. And this." He held up the leather jacket.
Danny emerged at that moment, back in his original clothes—which looked even worse now by comparison—and stopped dead. "That jacket costs more than my car."
"You don't have a car."
"Exactly my point!"
"The jacket is an investment piece," Vlad said calmly. "Quality leather, classic cut. You'll have it for years."
"I don't need a leather jacket."
"Perhaps not. But you want it." Vlad watched Danny's eyes go back to the jacket, saw the want there even as the boy tried to hide it. "I can see you doing the mental gymnastics, Daniel. Let me save you the effort—yes, I'm going to buy it. No, you don't have to justify it. Yes, you're going to accept it. We'll all be happier this way."
Danny's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "You're infuriating."
"So I've been told." Vlad moved to the counter, pulling out his wallet. "We'll take everything."
The woman rang it up with obvious pleasure—the total was substantial, though not enough to make Vlad even blink. He handed over his card and watched Danny hover awkwardly near the fitting rooms, clearly torn between protesting further and just accepting his fate.
"You know," the woman said quietly as she processed the payment, "he's going to remember this. Maybe not today, maybe not for a while. But someday he'll look back and realize what you did for him."
Vlad signed the receipt without comment. He wasn't doing this for Danny's future gratitude. He was doing it because... because...
Because watching Danny try on clothes had been more engaging than it had any right to be. Because seeing him in well-fitted clothing had revealed things Vlad hadn't quite noticed before. Because the boy's reluctant pleasure at the burgundy sweater had been oddly satisfying.
Because Vlad was bored, and this was entertaining, and he didn't need to examine it more closely than that.
"Your items," the woman said, handing over several bags with the boutique's logo.
Vlad took them and turned to Danny. "Ready?"
Danny stared at the bags. At Vlad. Back at the bags. Something complicated crossed his face—frustration and gratitude and resentment all tangled together.
"Yeah," he said finally. "I guess."
They stepped back out into the morning sunlight, and Vlad handed Danny the bags. The boy took them automatically, still looking slightly shell-shocked.
"You didn't have to do that," Danny said after a moment.
"I'm aware."
"I mean it. That was... that was a lot of money."
"It was a moderate amount of money that I'll never miss." Vlad glanced at him. "Consider it payment for tolerating my presence on this walk."
"Pretty expensive tolerance fee."
"You're very irritating. It evens out."
Danny huffed something that might have been a laugh. His grip on the bags tightened slightly, and when Vlad looked over, the boy's expression had softened just a fraction.
"Thanks," Danny said quietly. "I mean, you're still an asshole. But... thanks."
Vlad felt something warm settle in his chest, unexpected and unwelcome.
"You're welcome," he said, and meant it more than he'd intended to.
They walked on, and Vlad found himself acutely aware of Danny beside him—the bags rustling with each step, the way the morning light caught in his dark hair, the careful distance he still maintained.
Yes, Vlad thought. Definitely more interesting than he'd anticipated.
He'd have to examine that later.
Or perhaps not at all.
By late afternoon, they'd somehow ended up back at the Fenton house, sprawled in the living room while Jack tinkered loudly in the lab below and Maddie worked in her study upstairs. Danny had changed into one of his new shirts—the dark blue henley—and was pretending not to be pleased about how it fit while he half-watched some terrible action movie on TV.
Vlad sat in the armchair, ostensibly reading a book he'd pulled from Jack's surprisingly decent collection, but mostly watching Danny mock the movie's physics with increasing animation.
"That's not how explosions work," Danny was saying, gesturing at the screen. "You can't just—the blast radius alone would have—"
That was when Vlad felt it.
The first hollow pang, low in his chest. Not painful yet, just... present. A gentle reminder that he hadn't fed since before his flight, that his body was beginning to notice the deficit. It felt like the ghost of hunger, an echo of emptiness that would grow steadily louder if ignored.
He should hunt tonight. There were usually a few ghosts lingering around Amity Park—the town had always attracted them, something about the ambient ectoplasmic energy. A quick hunt, a proper feed, and he'd be fine for days.
"—and don't even get me started on the—Vlad, are you listening?"
Vlad blinked, refocusing on Danny, who had turned to look at him with an expression of exaggerated offense.
"You're not listening. I'm providing valuable commentary here."
"Your commentary consists primarily of complaining."
"It's educational complaining." Danny threw a pillow at him.
Vlad caught it easily, one-handed, and raised an eyebrow. "How mature."
"You're in my house, being all judgy in my living room. I'll throw pillows if I want." But Danny was grinning, that sharp-edged grin that made him look less like the exhausted teenager from this morning and more like someone who enjoyed a good fight.
The hunger pulsed again, a little stronger. Vlad pushed it down.
He could hunt later. After dinner, perhaps, when the Fentons were asleep. Or tomorrow—yes, tomorrow would be fine. He'd gone longer than this before, much longer. This was barely an inconvenience, hardly worth interrupting the day for.
And he was, he had to admit, enjoying himself.
It had been a long time since anyone had thrown a pillow at him. A long time since anyone had bothered to argue with him about movie physics or looked at him with that particular mix of irritation and reluctant amusement. Danny didn't defer to him, didn't try to impress him or manipulate him. He just... reacted. Honestly and immediately.
It was refreshing.
"You know what your problem is?" Danny said, settling back against the couch.
"I'm certain you're about to tell me."
"You take everything too seriously. Like, you can't just watch a dumb action movie. You have to sit there all—" Danny made a vague gesture that was apparently meant to convey Vlad's entire demeanor, "—like you're judging it."
"I am judging it. It's terrible."
"It's supposed to be terrible. That's the point." Danny grabbed another pillow, hugging it to his chest. "Sometimes things can just be fun without being good."
Vlad considered this. "That seems like a waste of time."
"See? Too serious." But Danny was smiling, and there was something almost fond in it, buried under the exasperation.
The hunger stirred again, a low ache beginning to spread through his limbs. Vlad shifted slightly in his chair, adjusting his position. Not uncomfortable yet. Manageable. He'd fed well before the trip—he had reserves. This was nothing.
"Fine," he said. "Explain to me why this terrible movie is worth watching."
Danny's face lit up. "Okay, so the thing is—"
And he was off, talking with his hands, animated and engaged, and Vlad found himself actually listening. Found himself asking questions just to watch Danny's expressions shift, to hear him laugh when Vlad deliberately misunderstood something.
The afternoon bled into evening. Maddie came down to start dinner, and Danny helped her while Vlad and Jack discussed some new ghost-hunting theory that was completely wrong but entertaining to hear explained. The hunger was there, a constant low thrum now, but Vlad was practiced at ignoring discomfort. He'd been doing it for decades.
During dinner—which Vlad picked at, managing enough to seem normal—Danny kicked him under the table when he made a particularly cutting comment about Jack's latest invention. Not hard, just a warning tap, and when Vlad glanced at him, Danny was giving him a look that clearly said be nice.
Vlad kicked him back, gentler.
Danny's lips twitched.
After dinner, Jack insisted on showing Vlad his workshop, and Danny tagged along, making sarcastic commentary that had Vlad biting back actual laughter more than once. The boy was sharp when he wanted to be, quick-witted in a way that kept Vlad on his toes.
By the time they returned to the living room, it was fully dark outside, and the hunger had settled into a steady ache. Not urgent yet. Not demanding. Just... there. A reminder that he had needs, that he was putting off the inevitable.
But Danny was queuing up another movie—"a good one this time, I promise"—and looking at Vlad with an expression that was almost hopeful, like he actually wanted Vlad to stay and watch it with him.
Tomorrow, Vlad thought. He'd hunt tomorrow. There was no rush. Amity Park wasn't going anywhere, and neither were its ghosts. He had perfect control over his hunger—he always had. This was nothing he couldn't handle.
"Well?" Danny asked. "You staying or are you going to go brood in your room?"
"I don't brood."
"You absolutely brood. You're a brooder. It's like, your whole thing."
Vlad settled back into the armchair. "I'll stay. But if this movie is as terrible as the last one—"
"It won't be. Probably. Maybe." Danny grinned and hit play.
The hunger pulsed, steady and patient.
Vlad ignored it.
He had time.