A/N: I'd just like to say I was really happy with the positive feedback from the previous chapter. I'm glad some people decided to bear with me even after it's been awhile since I've started updating again.
Spirit: Awhile? Try AGES! Not that I care. By the way, spoiler alert, Puckabrina may not get together in the end! MWAHAHAHAH!
Me: That's NOT true. I'm still debating over what to do with them though. We'll just have to see what happens ;) And Spirit's in for a surprise at the very end though…it will be just as punishing as his existence-
Spirit: What are you mumbling about?
Me: And on to this chapter!
The typical Friday night for Daphne was as followed: Camping out in her room, painting her nails a funky color that'd exhaust your eyes because funky polish is just too funky, while technology of all sorts raged on; the TV would be switched on to a dramatic show on MTV, the radio would be tuned to another song that somehow topped the charts, and all the while Daphne would be propped up in her bungee chair, her lap supporting her computer, occasionally taking note of one thing after another, but mostly would have her pupils glued to her phone screen.
Now she was texting away to Dennis. She was still rueful due to the fact that she'd merely associated with him to let Wendell get a taste of his own medicine. And yet, here she was now, feelings now genuine, smiles no longer an act.
Daphne had had a certain image of a prince around seven. He'd have gorgeous hair, a charming smile, a wonderful personality, and would be a total romance. He'd be willing to cuddle and watch chick flicks, laugh at every said joke, and compliment her at least eight times a day.
Dennis was her perfect prince. Well, for the most part. It wasn't like he was a total romantic. But Daphne found even that she didn't mind; She liked the imperfectness.
Her mindful contemplating was paused at the bloop sound of her phone. Flinching slightly, she set the polish down, placed her laptop on the round table in front of her, and reached for the device, skimming the short text.
Look outside.
Slowly, she made a move to the window and peeked out. And then a masked face popped out. "Boo."
Screaming, she fell back, making contact with the foot of her bed. Cussing the three swear words she knew over and over, she bumped against the doors of her closet, frantically grasping for the doorknob. Then a familiar laugh rang behind her.
"Did I scare you that much?" he asked, peeling off the mask.
Clutching her heart, Daphne fell to her knees. "W-Dennis-you-'' Gasping, she tried her best not to spill tears of relief.
Dennis dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her. "It's just me, Daph."
Once she could breath normally, Daphne rose, glaring down at Dennis. "What was the point in that?"
"Thought I'd get a kick out of it," said Dennis, smiling slightly, though he still looked concerned Daphne would collapse any second.
He definitely made a big mistake, considering Daphne knew two of the most popular revengers. She decided to keep this from him…for now.
"Anyways," he said, taking in the spilled over polish and the abrupt make-out session playing on screen. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Yup," replied Daphne, perching on her bed. "How's your night?"
"Eh," shrugged Dennis. "I figured it would be better with you."
Heart fluttering, Daphne leaned forward, laying her head on his shoulder. Reaching for the remote, she idly switched to another channel. Cupcake Wars was on, and everybody was frantically mixing their ingredients or measuring out flour, desperate to finish under a minute.
Inspiration washed over her, and she automatically sat up. "Let's bake something!"
Expecting she'd say that, Dennis quickly responded. "I can't bake. Seriously. I mean, I burn my toast every morning-''
"Please!" tugging at Dennis's arm, she tried to come up with some reasoning to convince him otherwise. "I'm the best at this kind of thing. I could totally guide you."
Amused, Dennis turned to face her. "Really now?"
"Of course!" Daphne started to head towards the door. "I'll arrange the ingredients-"
"Wait-"
In her attempt to escape from the imaginary masked figure, a pair of heels had been kicked aside, and so when Daphne paid no mind to what she was about to step on, her feet gave out, and she slipped back, flailing about.
Doving forward, Dennis managed to catch her before they both fell over, and the nearby table wobbled, causing the sparkly yellow, green, and pink polish to take a spill over on Dennis's leather jacket.
"Great," he sighed.
"That color does suits you," Daphne shrugged.
Chuckling, Dennis tilted his face, and suddenly their noses were not far apart.
Daphne felt nervous suddenly, but not the good kind. It felt more of..dread?
And then the door flung open. Daphne yelped when it smacked against the side of her head and quickly shoved away.
"Hello-uh?" Puck took in everything that lay (literally) before him. Rubbing his temples, he spun on his heels and trotted back downstairs.
But Daphne was aware she'd suffer hearing a lecture on Monday. On Fridays Puck just wasn't up for playing big brother.
"Okay, I have all the necessary ingredients out and ready to go," Daphne told Dennis, reaching up to gather the last of the supplies needed.
"Right," said Dennis distractedly. He still sensed this wouldn't end all that well.
They had decided on attempting to bake red velvet cupcakes with chocolate frosting and cream cheese filling. Well, more like Daphne decided on that, Dennis merely wanted to bake vanilla cupcakes.
Daphne read out the directions. "Okay, first we have to preheat the oven."
Blinking, Dennis looked around for the oven.
Frowning, Daphne peered over at him. "Do you not know what an oven is?
"Well, I do. It's just, well uh…" he pointed. "Is that it?"
With the Grimms, not even an oven looked all that out of the ordinary. For one thing, it was curvy along the edges. The stove was green, and the area around the oven was orange. And that was how it had come to be nicknamed "That Curvy Pumpkin Thingie."
"Well, obviously," said Daphne casually.
Giving her a funny luck, he reached out and turned the little dial on "The Pumpkin." "What next?"
"We have to mix the main ingredients together."
"Okay." Reaching out for the flour, baking soda, power, and salt, Dennis proceeded to pull out the biggest bowl. "These aren't measured out."
"Don't worry about that," assured Daphne, waving a hand carelessly. "I never measure anything, I'm great at calculating. Ms. White loves my baking."
"Has she ever eaten in front of you?"
"Well, no. She lets me know the next day in class."
Faintly, Dennis remembered the other junk that could be found sitting at the top of Snow's trashcan along with the uneaten apples. He made a mental note to ask Snow to hide the trashcan from sight. Then again, maybe she already had.
"Oh, we're never going to get this done if you keep standing there," sighed Daphne exaggeratedly, breezing past him. "I'll do everything, and you can instruct me."
After dumping more than half the contents of flour, sprinkling salt, spilling most of the flour onto the floor, and dancing to a song on the radio while pouring in the baking soda, Daphne continued on to furiously beating butter and sugar in another bowl, and then laughing excitedly while watching the electric mixer whirl everything together.
"Alright!" she exclaimed. "Only a few more steps to go!"
Flicking off some of the thick cream that had splattered onto his eyebrow, Dennis responded, "Yeah. Now you have to put in the eggs, and mix in the last of these ingredients."
After doing so, this time somewhat properly, Daphne strolled over to the cabinet and pulled out a purple bottle with a black liquid sloshing inside.
"What's that for?" asked Dennis, puzzled. He could see a glint in her eyes.
Smiling mischievously, Daphne whispered, "Secret ingredient. My grandmother uses it for everything she cooks."
He knew right then it would all spiral downwards from there.
A high-pitched ping tinged from the oven.
"Excellent!" Daphne darted into the kitchen. "I bet our creation is beautiful."
Mustering a wide grin, Dennis responded. "I bet so, too."
Sliding open the oven, her hands protected by mitts, Daphne brought out the tray. "Dessert is served."
Saggy red mounds barely budged at the movement. Liquid-like frosting that came out as a murky black decorated the top. A more beige-rather-than-white filling dripped along the edges of the cakes.
"Looks aren't everything," snapped Daphne at Dennis's repulsed expression.
Muttering under his breath, he said, "It's a mystery how a cupcake can manage to look similar to a dead ladybug surrounded by bird poop."
"Fine! Then you don't get to have any!" shouted Daphne. "They're mine! All mine! Because I don't appreciate your attitude!"
At least she appreciates preserving my health, he thought silently.
And then her expression shifted. "You know," said Daphne gravely. "I've thought of something."
Concerned, Dennis turned to face her. "What is it?"
Sighing heavily, Daphne continued. "When you mentioned mystery. There hasn't been a mystery to solve since-uh, since ever. I miss solving mysteries. That's what D.A.W.N. was for." She glanced out the window, at the thin rays starting to break through the sheer curtains.
"You can still reconcile with that Willy kid," Dennis tried to comfort her.
Daphne didn't bother correcting him. "You know what? You're right. And I know just the perfect way to do it," She smiled broadly. Without warning, she scooped up the whole tray of cupcakes. Swiveling around, she charged through the front door. "I'll be back!" she called out.
Collapsing in a chair, Dennis exhaled heavily. He should've seen that one coming.
Hefting up the cupcakes higher in her arms, Daphne cautiously stretched out one hand and rang the doorbell.
When the door opened, a flustered Wendell stood in the doorway. "Uh..hello."
"Hey," said Daphne nervously. "Listen, I've been such a jerka-"
"Wendell!" a lilting voice floated in the air. "I think I cracked the code to the safe that was supposedly in the Neuer Anfang!
Wincing, Wendell prepared to be assaulted with more complaints of betrayal.
Instead, Daphne held out her tray of crumbling cakes. "I just made these with Dennis, and I want you to have the honor of being the first to taste one."
Looking back and forth at the tray to her, Wendell raised an eyebrow, debating whether or not she was pulling his leg or if she was that bad of a baker.
"Please," she begged. "I'm sorry for being a jerkazoid. I want these to make it up to you."
"Fine," he gave in. Closing on eye, he lifted up one of the squished cakes, and took a medium sized bite. Not long after chewing and swallowing, his vision started to tilt.
"Wendell? Wendell!" a bewildered Daphne yelled as he collapsed on the doorsteps, unable to breathe.
After a bizarre trip to the emergency room, a mortified Daphne sat in the waiting room, nestled between her older sister and a fairy. It wasn't helping matters at all that Puck was poking fun at everything, despite the fact that Wendell's health was possibly at stake.
"Geez, I know you can't bake, but I didn't think it would be this bad. If I had known you had the potential in you to kill, we should've fed that gross creation to all the Scarlet Hand bad guys," Puck cackled. He mimicked Wendell's falling overdramatically, and Sabrina struggled not to double over in laughter.
Standing up, Daphne stormed over to the water fountain and nearly bumped into Granny.
"I'm so sorry, libeling," Granny soothed.
"I didn't mean to," she said sadly. "I just-I really don't understand what made this occur."
Just then, a male nurse emerged into the room. "Wendell is recovering. He can see one visitor."
All eyes swiveled to the younger girl. Marching out of the cluttered space at last, Daphne came into the emergency room, where a sickly pale Wendell was propped up in bed, a heart monitor beeping steadily nearby. "I guess I deserved that," he croaked, smiling shakily.
Daphne kneeled at his side. "No, you didn't," she said, her voice rising. "Whatever happened that caused this was not my intention." She ticked off each ingredient that had been used in the concoction.
When she mentioned a secret ingredient, Wendell's brow crinkled. "Can you say what it is, please?"
"I don't know," confessed Daphne. "Only Granny does."
Her grandmother was brought in for questioning, and after spending forever trying to convince her to just say it, she sighed. "Alright, alright. The ingredient is bolbocact."
"Huh?" blurted out Daphne and Wendell in unison.
"A foreign person created that name, but it basically consists of a type of argon oil."
"I'm allergic to tree nuts," mused Wendell.
Understanding dawned on Granny's face. "That certainly explains it."
Confused as to how the two relate, Daphne started to ask, and Granny replied "Tree nuts consist of argon oil, so when Wendell bit into the cupcake, that must be why he reacted the way he did. But libeling, why did you use that in your baking?"
"Because you use it for everything," was the innocent answer. "I see you use it all the time."
Granny inhaled and exhaled deeply. "I suppose I'm partially responsible," she murmured.
Once she left, Daphne seated at the chair beside the bed. "I really am sorry."
"No worries," said Wendell, though he coughed for a full minute before he could continue. "I'm sure I'll be fine eventually."
"I miss D. A.W.N.," Daphne blurted out. "Can we try again?" She looked down. "Dennis is great and all, but I also miss what was really important." She locked eyes with Wendell.
Heart racing, maybe partially because of the severe allergy reaction that took place a moment ago, Wendell wasn't too sure what to say. "I'm glad you feel that way."
"I do too." Smiling, Daphne took a step forward and awkwardly wrapped her arms around the tubes to hug Wendall. "After all, what could our citizens in distress do without me? D.A.W.N. would be nothing!" She squeezed tighter.
The only response Wendell could make was yet another hacking cough.