Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom – I never have and I never will, simple as that. All of that amazing creative talent goes to Butch Hartman. Nickelodeon just sucks, I'm sorry (no, I'm not).

Author's Note: Since these are just going to be drabbles, this challenge will be updated sporadically, with no set limit or deadline. They'll generally be one page long or however the hell long I feel like writing something. This challenge is for 25(underscore)foods, and there are a various array of foods to choose from, so this challenge will be nothing less than interesting. I hope you enjoy, and I hope that you continue to come back for more!

Enjoy, and please review when you finish! Reviews help me update faster since I know people are actually interested in what I'm writing.

Oh, look! A character from another story of mine.

023: Cinnamon

Rating: PG

Theme: 007. Cinnamon

May 18, 2009

The sound of thunder echoed throughout the household, though, only waking one of its occupants. The young girl sat up in her bed, surveying the area of anything that could possibly jump out at her. Gripping the blanket, she continued to look, turning her head slightly each time, just in case something frightening was there about to take her to an alien planet. Or to the mall, she thought, shuddering. She obviously took after her mother in this regard.

Lightning shone throughout the dark sky, illuminating her dark room, and thunder soon accompanied the light.

She jumped out of her bed and did the first thing her instincts told her to do.

Mama will save me.

She opened her parents' bedroom door and peeked in with a hand over her eyes–just in case. Ever since that one time, she always walked in with a hand over her eyes to spare her the sight. It was embarrassing enough, and she would be able to live a happy life if she didn't have to see what she had seen ever again.

Seeing her father on the floor with half of the blankets, she giggled quietly; she figured her mother had either pushed him off or he fell off on his own accord. She smiled down at him lovingly, then pulled the blankets over him entirely so he'd be warm; she always looked out for her daddy.

Her mother, now, was in the middle of the bed, sleeping peacefully, spread-eagle just like her father would've been if he was still on the bed. The young girl walked up to her mother and whispered, "Mama... Mama."

Her mother didn't shift, but one eye did open. Soon, the other eye opened when she saw her daughter standing there. Sitting up, she yawned and rubber her eyes sleepily.

"Hmm? What time is it?" she asked, looking around for the other occupant of the bed that was supposed to be there. Figuring out what must have happened, she stopped her search and leaned over his side of the bed. Seeing him lay on the ground, yet again, was enough to make her chuckle quietly to herself. Getting herself better situated on the bed, she looked over to her daughter with a thoughtful expression, waiting for her answer.

"Uh... it's around two," she hesitantly replied, not sure how her mother would react.

"What's wrong? Night–"

Her question was answered when the lightening flashed and the thunder crashed. She and her daughter both flinched at the loud boom.

"Ah. There's nothing to worry about, Em. It can't hurt us, especially when we're inside."

She stood there embarrassed, "Mama... could I... stay with you tonight?"

Sam smiled, turning and throwing her legs over the side of the bed. As soon as her feet touched the warm carpeting, she sent a glance back in the direction of her fallen husband. She over exaggeratedly rolled her eyes at her husband.

The young girl giggled, trying to steal a glance of her father around the bed.

Sam continued, chuckling softly to herself, "He seems to be busy on the floor. First, though, let's settle that stomach."

The young girl smiled, knowing that her mother could guess how she was feeling and knew how to immediately remedy that unease. She didn't know why, but every time the thunder and lightning woke her up from a sound sleep, her stomach was sent into turmoil. Her favorite treat always managed to cheer her up, no matter what.

A few minutes and a scene change later, they were in the kitchen. Pulling up a bar stool, Emily sat at the island in the middle of their kitchen while Sam prepared her favorite snack.

While she cut up the apples, Sam asked, "Why do you think you get so scared when it comes to storms? Did you had a bad dream or something that storms remind you of, or...?"

She shrugged, "Dunno. It just... the loud noises just make me jump and get me all off-center. It's weird."

"I used to be afraid of storms, too," Sam admitted softly. "Only until your father and I started sharing a bed did I stop being afraid. I knew that he would be able to protect me from anything, and the fear went away. That's probably why you come to me in the middle of the night whenever there's a storm."

The young girl nodded, "Makes sense."

After a few more minutes, Sam walked over and placed a plate of apple slices covered with sugar and cinnamon. It was a snack that her mother had made for her when she was small, and it was basically the only cooking tip she had taken from dear Pamela in her lifetime.

"Thanks, mama," she smiled, taking a piece.

"Anytime," she replied, taking a piece for herself, too. "Your father misses out on all the good stuff, doesn't he?"

"Except the floor," they were greeted by a sleepy voice. "The floor and I are apparently best friends. Kick me off again, dear wife?" Danny rose an eyebrow at Sam who simply smirked back at him. He looked so boyish with his hair sticking out in all directions–it brought back fond memories.

Holding up a piece of the sweet apple as a truce, Sam said, "I don't remember, but it's entirely possible."

He opened his mouth, taking in the piece. After making a noise of contentment, he murmured, "Mmm, cinnamon. So, uh, why's everyone up so late?"

"I got scared," Emily supplied softly through bites of her apple. "It's alright if I say with you and mama tonight, right?"

"Of course," he said without missing a beat as he reached for another piece of the apple. He didn't even realize that it had been storming out, much less raining, but was a total sucker for his only child–he didn't require further prompting. "We should have parties like this more often, these apples are yummy."

"That's just cause they're covered with cinnamon and sugar, fatty," she glanced at him with a look on her face.

"Who're you calling fatty, chubs?" He tried to grab another piece, but now his hand was slapped away.

"Now you can return to the floor, ingrate."

Emily giggled at her parents' bickering; she knew, even with their faults, they loved each other and that's all that mattered to her. That was an entirely different kind of storm she wouldn't know about for a while (especially if her Daddy had anything to say about it). For now...

She was safe.