A/N: Yay! #50 is here!

OMG, this was so much fun to write! I already had the first part pre-written, and it was going to be a oneshot, but I decided it would be a pretty epic 50th drabble.

I also think it's my longest, so that makes me super happy.

I really, really hope you enjoy it!

-0-0-

"Flour . . . sugar . . . baking soda . . . salt . . . cocoa powder . . . vegetable oil . . . water . . . vinegar . . ." Rachel mutters as she goes over the recipe for cupcakes in Daddy's recipe book. As she reads off each item, she moves around the kitchen of the Home Ec. room retrieving it from either the fridge or the cupboard, placing it on the island where the bowls and mixer are.

Mercedes is leaning against the counter, filing her nails; Tina is against the opposite side of the island, listening to her iPod with one earphone in; Quinn is sitting at the table eating a peanut butter and tuna sandwich; Santana is sitting on the counter, texting; Brittany is humming a distant tune while practicing some ballet. "Okay!" Rachel chirps brightly, smiling, as she sets down the last ingredient on the island. "That's everything." Everyone stops what they're doing, looks at her, and resumes their previous activity.

Rachel's smile falls. "Look," she starts. Everyone stops what they're doing (aside from Quinn who continues to eat) again and collectively groans. "I know we don't all get along, but we need money for costumes and the only idea anyone had was another bake sale. And this time we can't rely on Puck and his marijuana-enhanced cupcakes; we have to make our own. And if you want anyone to buy our cupcakes, I suggest you do not let me make them myself. While I possess many talents, baking is not one of them." She grimaces, remembering the time she tried to make her dad a cake for his birthday.

Still no one makes a move to help her. "Fine," she sighs. "But you might want to have the fire department on hold once I put them in the oven." She's not even over-exaggerating.

Brittany is the first to move over. "The fire department?" she asks questioningly, raising one eyebrow. Rachel blushes.

"The last time I tried to make a cake for my dad's birthday it may have caught fire and forced us to remodel our kitchen," she mumbles, embarrassed. Mercedes laughs as she sets down her nail file.

"Well, we can't let that happen here, now, can we?" she says as she takes the recipe from Rachel and begins to read it over.

"Yeah," Tina chuckles, "Figgins will totally shut down Glee if we manage to damage the school to the point of needing expensive repairs."

"Can we just get this over with?" Santana says. The bitchiness in her voice is forced. Sure, she might like Glee and not hate everyone in it, but she doesn't have to act like it.

The others aren't fazed; they know how Santana feels, even if she's too proud to admit it. "The recipe says to mix it all together and make sure there are no lumps," Mercedes says after scanning the recipe. "Brittany, can you measure out one-and-a-half cups of flour?"

"Sure!" Brittany says brightly. She goes over to the cupboard and grabs a mug. Tina quickly intervenes, taking the article from the blonde's hands and placing it back on the shelf. She then picks up two measuring cups from the counter (a cup and a half-cup) and places them in Brittany's hand. The blonde looks a little confused for a second before shrugging, smiling, and proceeding to measure a cup-and-a-half of flour. "Done!" she announces proudly when the white grains are in the bowl.

"Great; next we need . . . sugar," Mercedes says, looking up. Tina takes a measuring cup from Brittany and pours the sugar in with the flour. "Okay, now we need . . ."

-o-o-o-o-o-

"There!" Rachel announces proudly as she slides the last pan into the oven. Mercedes, Tina, and Brittany all smile. Quinn and Santana don't notice; Quinn is eating a second sandwich she made herself and Santana is still texting.

"Finally," Mercedes exclaims, leaning back against a counter and smiling a little bit. "I really hope that's enough cupcakes, because I am not making any more any time soon, you know?"

"Totally," Tina agrees.

Rachel nods and smiles, looking over to where Santana is still texting. She shakes her head lightly at her, wondering when the HBIC is going to get head out of her (pardon her French) ass. Spotting the icing sugar, an idea slowly blossoms in her head. Tina catches her gaze, and reads mischief in the petite brunette's eyes. Her own eyes widen, and she gives her a look equal to: Are you insane?

Rachel shrugs and figures, why not? Everyone already thinks she's certifiably insane anyways, right?

With a small smirk on her face, she gives into the sudden urge and grabs a double fistful of the fine, white powder. Barely sparing a thought to the fact that during all of her recent time spent with Noah he must have been a bad influence on her, she puts her superb coordination to good use and pitches the powder straight into the Latina's face.

Her fingers stop their insistent tapping against her cell's keyboard the moment she feels the impact. Her mouth drops open in shock, her eyes blinking as they begin to water (having been open when the icing sugar hit her face).

When she opens them and turns, they instantly fall on the young ingénue in the knee socks. A look of guilt and regret quickly flashes across Rachel's face before her acting skills take over and she puts on an act of indifference. Santana's expression clearly reads, oh no you didn't, as she blindly reaches the for egg carton that had been carelessly left beside her when the girls baking had gotten what they needed from it without breaking eye contact.

Rachel barely has time to register what's happening besides to cleverly close her own eyes before an egg becomes up close and personal with her face.

The others (even Quinn, who has finished her sandwich now) are frozen for a moment before Santana smirks in honest-to-God amusement and the stillness of the room is broken.

-0-0-

It's a whirlwind of carefully aimed flying substances and carelessly flung objects, and the guys and Mr. Schue show up only to stand in the doorway, unbelieving of the sight before them.

Brittany's using a spatula to rub chocolate icing into Tina's hair (who's bent over, giggling and protecting her face). She turns the tables, however, grabbing the bag of sugar nearby and pouring the contents over the blonde's head, whose turn it is to protect her face. The sugar sticks to her cheeks, where vegetable oil had earlier been smeared.

Mercedes is ducked behind the side of the island closest to the door while Quinn has a tub of Crisco shortening and whisk in her hands, flinging some in the Diva's direction every time she sneaks a glance over the top towards the pregnant blonde. (Her hair's beginning to look more white than black.) Quinn's covered in flour and vanilla icing from an earlier battle with Tina.

Rachel and Santana are further away from the other chaos, both covered head to toe in egg yolk and egg white, icing sugar, and cocoa powder. The guys arrive just in time to see Rachel slip on egg, let out a high-pitched scream, and bring the Cheerio down with her as she completely loses her balance.

The other girls barely notice, until Noah manages to get over the initial speechlessness that everyone else seems to be possessed by and loudly exclaims, "What the fuck!"

Mr. Schue mumbles, "Language, Puck," as all action comes to a stop and six hilariously decorated faces turn towards the doorway. "What's going on here?" he asks them, obviously at a complete loss.

Brittany swallows a mouthful of the icing that she'd previously been smothering over Tina, and replies with a happy smile, "We're baking!"

Mr. Schue doesn't look impressed with the answer (though everyone else lets out a small smile at the blonde's innocent words), and Tina, Mercedes, and Quinn share a look before proclaiming, "I didn't start it!" all at once.

"Yeah," Santana adds, "Rachel started it." Rachel taps her none-too-gently with the back of her hand from their position, still unmercifully entangled on the floor.

"Tattle, much?" she mutters, before looking up at Mr. Schue and stumbling over her words in an attempt to explain. "You see, we were- And I just- And she … We were just making cupcakes, and …"

Suddenly she trails off, her eyes widening alarm. "The cupcakes!" she chokes out, sharing an alarmed look with Tina.

The Asian girl is closest, so she opens the oven door quickly. Thick, gray smoke begins to billow out, and the girls (minus Brittany) all groan sadly.

She coughs harshly, closing the door and flipping off the oven. "Well, so much for that," Santana mutters, shaking her head lightly.

Mercedes bring her palm up to her face, shaking her head sadly as Quinn sighs.

Brittany looks up from licking the spatula of icing, and asks a tad confusedly, "Does this mean no cupcakes?"

-0-0-

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