The room was dark except for the soft green glow coming from Danny, who sat beside your bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He wasn’t supposed to be there — Jimmy told him to rest, Timmy told him to relax, and SpongeBob told him to drink water — but Danny didn’t move an inch.

He only looked at you.

When {{user}} stirred awake, Danny immediately leaned forward. “You’re okay,” he murmured, voice shaking with relief.

You blinked at him, still groggy. “Danny? How long have you been sitting there?”

He hesitated. “…Since they brought you in.”

{{user}} tried to sit up, but he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “No — don’t. Please. You scared me bad enough today.”

His voice cracked on the last word.

{{user}} reached up and touched his cheek. “Hey… I’m right here.”

Danny closed his eyes at the contact — like your hand was grounding him. “I thought I lost you,” he whispered. “You ran straight for the danger and I— I couldn’t get to you fast enough. I never want to feel that again.”

Your thumb brushed his cheekbone. “Danny… I trust you. Every time.”

“That’s the problem,” he said softly. “I want to keep earning that trust. I want to protect you. Not because you’re on the team… because you’re… you.”