A/N: RomanceOnTheBrain asked for more DannyXSam funny oneshots, so here ya go, I guess.

EDIT: I forgot to add: RomanceOnTheBrain asked for a funny oneshot. Unfortunately, this was the best I could do. Sorry!


Likes and Dislikes


"Just say it. It's not that hard! You can do this, Fenton, just come up with some way to delicately put it... Okay, how about this: Sam, I-"

My soliloquy was interrupted by my bedroom door suddenly smacking open with a thud. A black and purple blur whizzed inside at speeds even I couldn't fly at.

"Sam?" I yanked my headphones off and looked up at her. "What're you-"

"It's here, it's here, it's here, it's here!" she shouted, jumping up and down while waving around a black CD case.

I'd never seen her this excited. "Deep breaths, Sam. In, and out." I put my hands on her shoulders in a comforting manner. "What's up?" I asked.

She grinned, a maniacal light in her violet eyes. "Morbid Anti-Social Youth released their newest album!" She waited, bouncing on her toes, as if she wanted me to shriek in happiness as well.

Instead, I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. Now or never, Fenton. Just tell her. "About that…" I hesitated. "Listen, Sam. I need to confess something."

She stopped her incessant bouncing reluctantly, and then sat down next to me. "What?"

I sighed. "I don't... like Morbid Anti-Social Youth."

She stared at me blankly.

"I don't like Goth music." The words just stumbled out; I flinched, waiting for her to slap me or at the very least, yell at me.

"I'm sorry, I just…" I was on a roll now; once the major revelation was out, I spoke a little easier.

She just sat there, arms limp.

"I don't like the darkness of it all. I don't like black, or skulls, or even blood. I don't like poetry slams. I don't even like rhyming!" (I shuddered at that, memories of Christmas and oranges resurfacing.)

"I don't like emo music, or screamo music, or death metal. I don't like Morbid Anti-Social Youth." I ended, hoping that my murder wouldn't be too publicized.

She stayed silent for about five minutes after my confession. Finally, she spoke up, "But why do you even listen to them?"

I bit my lip. "I like… you."