AN: I know it's a stupid idea, but hey, if you opened the story, I'm in a good position!! (Okay, gotta impress the people who are nice enough to read my story…)

AHEM. Thanks for reading this! I just randomly brainstormed this with a friend today. We just said the word "cupcake" and the rest took care of itself. (While I'm thinking about it, thanks to my brainstorming buddy, H. I owe you one, but you're not getting anything out of me. Just the fact that I said "I owe you".) Oh yeah, and this takes place in a more modern time than the actual series.

I should just shut up, shouldn't I? Okay, sorry about that. I will just give you the story now, I guess…

I am not the one out of six billion people on this planet who owns D. Gray Man. That's very surprising, isn't it?

Oh yeah. The story goes like this:

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My name is Yu Kanda.

And I hate cupcakes.

I hate a lot of things, come to think of it. But sweets are simply ghastly. If sugar in the smallest form touches my tongue, I don't swallow. I really don't like sugary "goodness," unlike most people I know.

Allen Walker.

Lavi.

Skinn.

Komui Lee.

Road Kamelot.

All of them like sweets to an extent. But cupcakes are their favorite.

Cupcakes.

Gag.

So, I think you get now that I don't like sugar, or cupcakes. Now I must confess something. Something I've never told anyone.

It was Bean Sprout's birthday, alright? And all he wanted were these really expensive things as gifts. (A prior agreement with Komui made it so I had to get Bean Sprout something, so there was no getting out of this.) But one day, Bean Sprout pulled me aside and said that if I could whip up some cupcakes for his party, he'd count that as a gift and, as a bonus, he'd not talk to me for a month.

So I agreed.

The day before his party, Bean Sprout showed me a kitchen fully equipped with everything I needed. Then he left, for Lenalee had to fit him into his birthday outfit. (We take birthdays sickeningly seriously around the Black Order.) I carefully walked over to the counter, reaching for the box of cake mix that awaited me, its bright colors seeming to scream a warning, not an invitation.

"What?" I groaned. Apparently I needed to add vegetable oil, water, and eggs to the concoction as well as the chocolaty powder. I had expected to just dump the mix into some paper cups and be done with it. But no, it looked like I was going to be here for longer still.

I pulled some eggs out of the fridge and carried them over to the counter. I checked the recipe (how many did I need?) and pulled out 3 eggs.

The first one I dropped. The second one got some shell in the mix. The third one I broke onto my uniform by mistake.

I trembled from rage for a few seconds, then pulled out my sword.

"DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed to the eggs, slashing the carton in two. Oh, crap. Now there was egg goo all over the counter. And who was going to have to clean it up? Me.

Darn. I began to think spending all of my money on a material gift for the boy would have been easier.

I gingerly opened the first half of the egg carton, searching for a single salvageable egg. The gods were with me. (Sarcasm.) I found 2 that could be used. But, I guess my "luck" ran out because the second half contained no usable eggs. Dang.

Bean Sprout had better enjoy this, I thought to myself, cracking the two eggs into the bowl. No one would notice one less egg anyway.

I decided to clean up while the cupcakes were in the oven and take care of the recipe for now. I pulled out some vegetable oil and a measuring cup.

Wait. The box called for ½ C of oil. What the heck did C mean?? It said "cups" on the measuring cup, but C could mean anything…

"Why does this have to be so complicated?" I screeched to the ceiling. The little twerp had better enjoy his birthday.

I wanted out of this as soon as possible, so I decided to assume that C meant cups, and measured out the correct amount. The same for the required water. Then I dumped the muddy brown powder onto it all and pulled out an electric beater.

I started the beater and stuck it into the mixture, watching as the batter splattered all over the walls and counter.

I swore a little and unplugged the mixer. I pulled out a rubber spatula and started scraping the batter back into the bowl. What Bean Sprout didn't know probably wouldn't kill him, and who was I to care if it did?

I tried beginning with the beater in the mixture this time and it worked. At least I could problem solve.

Next I had to put the batter into the cups. I dumped it until each of the little paper liners was overflowing with goo. Then, glancing back at the instructions, I realized that it said to fill each cup to "three-quarters full." I swore again and scooped some of the mixture out of the cups. This meant I had enough batter for a second batch. Darn. I had been so looking forward to shoving the excess batter down Bean Sprout's throat.

I pulled out another pan and lined it with the paper cups. I filled those with the right amount as well and stuck the two pans into the oven.

I was still cleaning when I smelled smoke.

Oh, duh. I'd forgotten to set the timer. They were burning.

In no hurry, I waltzed over to the oven and pulled out the sickening sugary snacks. I dropped the pans onto the first empty space I found to let them cool.

I finished cleaning and pulled the cupcakes out of the pan. Of course, Bean Sprout had requested chocolate frosting on these, so I had to take care of that as well.

I pulled out the plastic can and undid the silver cover inside. I dropped that into the wastebasket and pulled out a knife.

After I had sliced the third cupcake beyond repair, I started dreaming up other uses for this sharp knife. Oh, the possibilities…

Oh, well. I'd have time for that later. Right now I worried about the goop in my sleek black hair. I had it pulled back to escape the mess but nothing can escape chocolate batter and icing. Yuck.

I FINALLY finished frosting the cupcakes and putting the sprinkles on them. (What is the point of sprinkles anyway? Putting colored sugar on top of dog poop brown sugar? Really, that was too much sugar.) And looked at my work. They didn't look right at all, but they would have to do. I had held up my end of the bargain by making cupcakes, no matter how low quality, now Bean Sprout didn't have to talk to me for a full month!! I could hardly wait!!

The next day, I carried them on a tray into the room in the Order where the party was taking place. I slammed it down onto a table, hearing the words "party crasher" as I did so. Allen stared at them, then whispered something to Lenalee.

"Oh…yeah…no, I don't see them either…" She said, then, turning to me, she asked, "Kanda, we appreciate them, but it's kind of customary for there to be candles on a birthday."

Oh, sure. Hand me a lighter. That wasn't going to end well.

Komui took care of that. He pulled out a packet of birthday candles and a book of matches out of his pocket. Which kinda scared me a little.

"Umm…and you have those in your pocket…why, exactly?"

"I thought it best to be prepared. What? Why are you all staring at me? Is it so bad that I want to have something in case something goes wrong?" Komui replied, his voice rising as he spoke. He was answered with a unanimous "yes". He left to go sulk in a corner.

All of this was making me nauseous. But there was one more thing I had to do before I left.

"Bean Sprout?" I asked innocently.

"Yeah?"

I grabbed a cupcake and shoved it into his face.

"Have a happy birthday."

I turned on my heel, and left.

I could hear Lenalee still muttering about something I didn't care about. Something about "ruining everyone's fun" or something.

When do I ever not do that?

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AN: Okay, this is my first one-shot, my first D. Gray Man fic, and my first pure crack comedy. So it might suck. I'm not sure. But I'm gonna take a risk and say please R&R no matter what you think. If you hate it, that could be useful info to have.