They were both a little tipsy when they left Mother Hubbard's, the evening air cool and welcome after the warmth of the restaurant. Donatello kept his hand in Rapunzel's as they walked, enjoying the comfortable buzz of wine and good food.

  "Oh!" Rapunzel stopped suddenly, fishing through her purse. "I almost forgot. I made something earlier."

  Donatello raised an eyebrow. "Before our date?"

  "Yeah, ghost oil." She pulled out a small corked bottle, pale green liquid catching the fading sunlight. "It's supposed to let you see spirits. I wanted to test it, but then you called and, well, here we are."

  "Ghost oil," Donatello repeated, genuinely intrigued. "So you can see where ghosts hang out?"

  "Exactly. Like, where do they even go during the day? Do they have schedules? Favorite spots?" She uncorked the bottle, and he caught a sharp, medicinal scent. "I've always wondered."

  He'd never thought about it before, but now that she mentioned it... "Sure. Let's see what happens."

  She dabbed a little oil on her hand, then took his and rubbed some onto his skin. The oil was warm, almost tingling as it absorbed. Their fingers intertwined naturally as they continued walking.

  Donatello gnced around at the park, the people passing by, the buildings. "I don't see anything yet."

  Rapunzel smiled up at him. "Give it a minute. Maybe it takes time to..."

  They'd reached the statue of Sir Lancelot, the bronze knight frozen mid-swing with his sword raised. Donatello turned toward Rapunzel, and she tilted her face up to meet his.

  The kiss was soft, unhurried. He could taste the wine on her lips, feel the warmth of her against him. This was good. This was really good.

  Then Rapunzel's eyes opened mid-kiss, and she pulled back slightly, her expression shifting to something between surprise and fascination.

  "I think it's working," she said.

  "Hm?" Donatello was still close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes.

  "Turn around."

  He did.

  It took him a second to process what he was seeing.

  On a park bench not twenty feet away sat a headless man in old-fashioned clothing: ruffled shirt, dark coat, boots that went to the hips. His arm was draped around the waist of a woman in a flowing white dress, her skin so pale it was almost translucent, long bck hair falling around her face. Her eyes looked red-rimmed, like she'd been crying, but that wasn't what caught Donatello's attention now.

  The ghost woman's other hand gripped the headless man's forearm, the arm that disappeared under her dress. Her head was thrown back, mouth open, face tight with tension. She looked like she was seconds away from climax.

  The headless man's movements were steady, deliberate, confident.

  "Is that..." Donatello started, not entirely sure how to finish the sentence.

  "The headless horseman and a crying woman ghost," Rapunzel said quietly. "Yeah."

  "Are they on a date?"

  "I think they're past the date part."

  Donatello watched for another moment. The ghost woman's grip on the headless man's forearm tightened, her whole body tensing.

  "He seems to be good at that," Rapunzel observed.

  "Yeah," Donatello agreed. Good for him.

  The ghost oil had definitely worked. Impressive.

  He turned back to face her, grinning. "You're really good at what you do."

  Her smile widened. "Thanks."

  He kissed her again, deeper this time, pulling her closer. She rose up on her toes, her hand sliding to his shoulder, and Donatello felt the same heat he'd felt earlier at the restaurant, before Uncle Aldous had interrupted. They had unfinished business, and the wine had lowered all his inhibitions about suggesting they finish it.

  When they broke apart, both breathing a little harder, Donatello murmured against her lips, "So. Your pce or mine?"

  Rapunzel ughed, tugging him forward. "Yours is closer."

  They walked past the bench where the ghosts sat. The headless horseman's hand was still working under the ghost woman's dress, her eyes closed with pleasure, completely oblivious to anything around them.

  As they passed, Donatello caught the headless man's posture: confident, unhurried, focused entirely on his companion. He gave a small nod. Man to man. Respect. *Keep up the good work.*

  The headless horseman, despite having no actual head, somehow seemed to register it. His shoulders straightened just slightly, an acknowledgment. *You too, brother.*

  They left the park behind, the ghost couple still lost in their own moment. Donatello's hand stayed firmly in Rapunzel's, and he was already thinking about what would happen when they got there.