1,489 words later, I wanted to post it now because I was excited so hA TWO PARTER!!!!!! I'm ready to write action sequences buds. I so am. This is for Skylar_Rae_Celeste, my personal favorite requester, she is a sweetie pie and I really hope you like this one! The second part will be on the way soon!

Character: Danny Fenton

Relationship: Frenemies

Gender: Female

Oneshot Type: Mischievous/Cute

~~~~~~~~~~~

Your family, the Westons, and the Fentons have never been on what could be called, 'good terms'. Even back in the old days when everything was in black and white, and a pack of gum costed five cents, and that was considered expensive.

Up until now, when your cousin Delilah had decided to secretly elope with her boyfriend Jamie Heart, who was a close family friend to the Fenton family. Apparently, they had been thinking of getting married for a while before they got slightly tipsy enough to get the guts to finally do it. They didn't regret it, and they had even planned a small ceremony for their families to attend, regardless of the fact they were already married.

The ceremony was beautiful, yet simple.

And it was an absolute disaster afterwards.

Fentons and Westons bickering left and right, while the Heart family ignored the havoc around them and simply congratulated their son and their new daughter in-law. Delilah was shaking her head in frustration and Jamie sighing tiredly. To the two families, a Weston marrying someone that was close to the Fentons was almost as bad as actually doing the same thing.

It was at that wedding that you had met eyes with Danny Fenton.

The same boy that your brother Wes was always babbling about being half-ghost or something.

Wes and yourself were purely neutral about this whole thing, not really caring either way, as was Danny and his sister Jazz. So, regardless of how much Wes didn't like Danny and how much your parents would be angry for even looking his way, you had struck up a conversation with him while you all watched the chaos going on around you.

Turns out, the kid is a complete doll. Not literally, although those wide, sky blue eyes would throw off anyone. They were beautiful, yet at the same time a bit unsettling if you stared too long. But, he was sweeter than sugar, incredibly polite and kind hearted, you almost swooned.

Almost.

You would've swooned if the flower bouquet that Delilah threw hit your face and fell into your hands. Instead of swooning, you awkwardly laughed through the pain of getting smacked in the face with flowers at full speed.

When the wedding was over, you and Danny exchanged quick goodbyes before rejoining your siblings and parents.

You saw him here and there around school, you tried to be friendly when you could but not today.

It started like normal, you did your morning routine, ate breakfast and watched TV with Wes until it was time to leave. And then your news reporter mother came into the room carrying a plastic tub of water balloons, with four paintball guns, two small paintball blow guns, ankle holsters, protective glasses and your bagged lunches on top. Wes had dropped his spoon into his cereal bowl at the sight of your normally professional mother looking like she's ready to go into battle.

"...Mom?"

"It's the last straw, kids." She said as she pulled out her favorite red lip stick from her pocket, smearing two streaks on each of your cheeks.

Wes and yourself looked at each other in confusion, then back to her.

"What's going on?" You asked, putting your cereal bowl down onto the glass end table next to a small lamp. She directed you both to the window, and upon looking outside, your entire front yard had been littered with toilet paper, from the bushes, to your apple tree that you planted yourself as a child, and even to the roof. You had spotted your dad, Walter Weston, walking around the yard trying to gather all the toilet paper that he could. Your mom opened the front door's mail slot, pulling a string of it through, and showing the print on the white tissue.

An outline of Jack Fenton's face.

"No way..." Wes said in awe, taking it out of her hands and inspecting it closer.

"This means war." Your mother stated seriously, taking your backpacks before emptying them of everything inside and pouring a hefty stash of water balloons into them.

"Mom, we need that stuff for class." You said in a matter of faculty, watching her every move. Once she successfully shoves the paintball guns, water balloons, and your lunches into the backpacks, she rolled up one of the pant legs of your jeans and started strapping on the ankle holster.

"You are going to school to fight for the goodness of our family name, not to learn."

"Cool! I can pelt the Fenton kid with water balloons and paint!" Wes cheered excitedly as you facepalmed. She had done the same to Wes, giving you both the eye protective glasses and showing you how to attach and detach the air gun, and how to load paintballs into them. You and Wes had put on your backpacks, straining from the weight. Turns out that an intense amount of battle gear is actually less heavy than several five hundred page textbooks. Who knew, right?

"There's an extra reload of paintballs next to your sandwiches," She explained, shooing you both out the door with the sweetest smile and fire in her eyes, "and destroy the Fenton kids before you come home, or you're grounded for a month."

The door shut in your faces, and you were on your way.

You had already missed the morning bell by the time you opened the school doors, meaning class had started, the hallway was empty and quiet.

Too quiet.

"Where do we-" Wes began, but had stopped and ducked when a paint ball buzzed past him, leaving a blue splat on the door right where his head would've been. Wes grabbed your arm and pulled you down with him, an orange paint ball flying through the air and hitting the door behind where you were standing as well.

You both had crouched down and hid next to a row of lockers, rushing to grab your paintball guns and water balloons.

"We have to split up." Wes said sternly, he turned to see you looking at him like he was a mad man.

"R-Really, Wes? T-this...this is s-so...unexpected. I-I thought things w-were going great..." You mumble with sarcastic sadness, hitting his arm hard when he rolled his eyes at you, "Yeah, let's split up, Wes! Because that always goes well in these kinds of situations! Have you never seen a horror movie in your life?!"

He rubbed his arm and glared at you, "Hear me out! No matter what kind of punishment the Fentons would give their kids for not going along with this insanity, Jazz would never miss class and throw away her future for some stupid family feud. Odds are, she's in her homeroom right now, one of the three periods that I share with her."

You looked down, pondering what he just said, "So, you're suggesting that you go to class like normal, and catch her off guard?"

Wes nodded.

You hit his arm again.

"Ow!"

"And what should I do, huh? What's supposed to be my plan while your butt is safe?!"

Wes simply shrugged, "I'd say to find a home base or a hide out for you and I to meet up at after I get the hit on Jazz."

"Wait, you're going to hit on Jazz? I didn't know you liked her."

"No, no, I said get THE hit on Jazz, not hit ON her."

"Do red heads just naturally want to be around each other or something? Like that phrase, 'birds of a feather, flock together'? But, instead of it being about similar interests, it's just because you have the same hair color?"

"That's it, I'm leaving." Wes grumbled and stood up, peeking around the corner and making a run for it down the hall. You sighed heavily, looking at the ceiling and thinking over a mental map of the school.

The janitor's closet? Cliché and cramped, knocking stuff over would give away your position. The roof? Too dangerous, how would you and Wes get up there anyway?

Then, an idea hit you. An empty classroom, which would be hard to find since class has already started.

But, a year ago, they discontinued the art class in Casper High due to lack of funds, and a lot of people were angry about it. Around the same time the kids who did sports got new uniforms and equipment, you remembered because Wes came home with a new jersey that day and refused to wear it, insisting that his old one was lucky.

Getting a hold of your stuff and your paintball gun, you ran as fast as you could, navigating expertly through the halls to the old art room. Thankfully, no one cared enough to lock it, so you slipped in with ease. Turning and locking it behind you from the inside, you took cover behind the teacher's former desk.

Now, to play the waiting game...