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There is nothing sweeter than Chemythstry getting a substitute, for a number of reasons. It means that, usually, Hexonomics is cancelled for the day and Science and Sorcery gets a sub as well. Mostly it’s because Professor Rumplestiltskin is unable to make things ridiculously challenging to get people to spin his straw, which means they can actually learn something without any real risk.
“You’re all, ah, a little farther ahead than I anticipated,” the sub says as she stands at the front of the class, peering down at the worksheets and instructions piled on the desk. They’re thick packets and Cupid can read the little note-- if they do not finish by end of class, ALL GET F-- from her seat.
Blondie sits at her table, seeing as how Dexter and Alastair got partnered up this time. Maybe she should be a little more put out about it, but how can she be sad when Blondie’s giggling and nudging her arm, keeping her distracted with pictures of cute kittens. She’s a simple Cherub, and the sub isn’t all that concerned with keeping discipline in the classroom. Blondie is an innocent and welcome distraction.
“I can’t really...add anything to this lecture,” the witch continues. Cupid thinks, That’s the point. “Love potions aren’t my specialty, you see…that’s what’s on these worksheets...”
Blondie sits up so fast that Cupid hears her knees knock against the table. Her hand snags Cupid’s wrist. Every head turns to their table, and if her wings are stretching out with pride, well, oops.
“Oh! Oh! Oh, Miss!” Blondie’s hand shoots up in the air as Cupid feels her mouth stretch into a grin.
“Love potions are my specialty,” Cupid says. “I’d be happy to give a demonstration!”
“Oh, thank Godmother,” the sub sighs, and with a flick of her fingers each table has a worksheet packet. “Go right ahead.”
Blondie scoops up their packets and they both rush to the front desk, where the biggest cauldron lies. Cupid snaps on her gloves and slides her goggles over her eyes, and everyone pulls up chairs and settles to watch her work. It’s just a step away from cheating considering that this is all something they should do on their own, but love potions are her particular science. Plus, she can explain it better; she can already see Raven making pained faces as she flips through the pages of the packet, mouthing what? Over and over again.
“Can I record this?” Blonde asks as she starts to fire up her Mirrorpad. “I think this would be a hexcellent segment on my Mirrorcast! Cooking with Cupid!”
“Of course.” Cupid laughs. “Though I was going to have you as an assistant.” She curls her lips. “ I’m going to have to stir this pretty consistently to make it, you know. I need more than one pair of hands to get this...j ust right? ”
Blondie practically vibrates as Kitty lets out a mrrow. “Page two, question thirteen! ‘Consistent stirring’!”
Amid a chorus of flipping paper and teenagers scrambling to circle the right answer, Blondie spins and holds out her MirrorPad with a smile as bright as her hair. “Apple,” she begins, voice sugar sweet, “pretty, pretty please? I need to help Cupid make this just right! ”
“Aw, sure,” Apple says kindly, taking the Mirrorpad and swiping it open. “Just tell me when, okay?”
Cupid ducks into the ingredient pantry, humming beneath her breath. She pries out the Ashwinder eggs, rose thorns and peppermint, and powdered moonstone--making sure to let the class follow along in scribbles. Raven’s enchanted three quills to follow her lead, making sure that Blonde, Cupid, and Apple’s worksheets manage to get done as well. Cupid sends her a thumbs up, arranges her ingredients, and claps her hands. Apple starts to record and Cupid takes a breath.
“So, to start! I have to let everyone watching know that love potions can’t actually make people fall in love. Love isn’t something that can be artificially created, or bottled up and sold.”
“Page seven, question fifty three,” Cerise whispers from the back, “ ‘Unable to fabricate the emotion of love’.”
Cupid stifles a giggle. “That said, let’s get started! We’re gonna put in three cups of sparkling spring water into the cauldron, and set it on a low flame. Blondie?”
Her roomie, armed with her own goggles and gloved hands over the first beaker. Cupid doesn’t even need to check to make sure its a full cup; Blondie wouldn’t have given her anything less. Cupid pours the first cup, and repeats twice, before clicking on the fire. She sets it low, and moves to the side as the class whispers answers to each other.
“So, while that’s warming up, we bruise the peppermint flowers and then add them in.” Cupid handles the mortar and pestle and she can already feel herself being brought back in time, when her mother showed her the exact recipe and whispered instructions and praise. Nostalgia warms her from her head to her toes, and her wings give another little flutter of delight.
Sprinkling in the bruised flowers, Cupid adds in the leaves of the plant. “Once you’ve got that in, you get three tablespoons of the powdered moonstone--” Blondie hands her the first scoop, “--and stir at least three times after each one. Remember, when in doubt; rule of three!”
She sends Blondie a look from the corner of her eye, winking. Blondie giggles, bashful. It’s an...awfully cute look on her, Cupid thinks, distracted for a moment by the curve of her cheeks, the blonde curls framing her face with perfect symmetry.
Haha, what? Cupid shakes her head and turns back to her potion, watching the water swirl from her stirring.
“While the water’s still moving, you sprinkle in your handful of rose thorns,” Cupid does so, “and then we let it sit for ten minutes, covered, and off the flame for it to steep.”
“You can stop the recording for now,” Blondie tells Apple. “I’ll edit up the footage later anyway!”
The next ten minutes go by in a blur. Mainly she takes her own quill and shakes it free from Raven’s enchantment, zooming through the questions and leading the class through them. For someone as entrenched in the magic and science of love as Cupid is, even she has to ponder over a couple of the questions. Still, between the fifteen minds in the room, they manage to slog through it well enough.
The shrill ring of an alarm clock cuts through the soft chatter. Bunny calls out, “Ten minutes are up!”
Cupid lifts the lid and sees that all the previous ingredients have dissolved nicely. The half-a-potion moves in tempting, sinuous shapes like a love potion is supposed to. Though, they’re a little more tame than her mother’s; it has been a while.
Apple restarts the recording and Cupid sets the cauldron back on a low flame. “See how everything’s all dissolved? That’s a testament to the purity of the spring water. Thanks, Blondie!”
Blondie gives her a wink in return and Cupid ignore the odd little zing that races through her wings from it.
“The last thing we need to do is add in the Ashwinder eggs, one at time.” Blondie hands her the eggs carefully, and in mere moments they have dissolved too. Maybe it’s because of the company, or the pride of getting to show off, but she can feel the spots on her skin that Blondie passed over tingling through the material of her gloves. “Give it another minute, and…”
Steam curls up from the cauldron. The surface of the potion turns shimmery, gaining a mother-of-pearl sheen just as Cupid catches the first whiff of bluebells. She draws it in, feeling her muscles go lax.
“What’s that…” Blondie’s eyes shut, a dreamy smile curling the corners of her mouth, “ wonderful smell?”
“It’s roses,” Faybelle snipes, but even her voice is remarkably less hostile than usual. “Roses, and chamomile...potpourri…” She sighs, and Cupid watches her wings flutter.
“No way,” Poppy O’Hair argues gently. “That’s not what it smells like at all. It smells like maple wood, with hardly any finish. A conditioning treatment and,” she takes another deep breath, “new pointe shoes with fresh silk.”
That’s not even remotely subtle, O’Hair, Cupid thinks fondly.
“I-I smell leather. Leather and parchment and magic smoke,” Dexter stammers, and Cupid starts a little. She had nearly forgotten he was even in the room, with Blondie helping her make the potion, and leaning on her to get closer. Not to mention, the fragrant smell of bluebells in fresh bloom have been joined by the tangy smell of old copper, like the kind on their bedroom doors.
“I smell that too!” Apple thoughtlessly rests against Raven’s side, giggling as if under a spell. The MirrorPad in her arms is slouched sideways, sloppy camerawork that’s sure to ruin the recording anyway, and everyone seems to have forgotten about dealing with the worksheet.
Oh, dear. Cupid watches as the class starts to argue among themselves; Daring Charming claims that he can’t smell anything but his own cologne, and Rosabella says that it smells like clean sweat, wolfsbane, and blossoms found deep in the Enchanted Forest. Cerise mutters that it smells like catnip and yarn and lilacs, and Holly sighs over the scent of armor polish and a mysterious perfume with no name.
“Guys--guys!” Cupid whistles sharply to get everyone’s attention before even more damage can be done. “There is no true scent. The thing about this potion is that it--” She bites her lip, looks between Dexter, Apple, and Raven. This is gonna get messy. “--It, uh, it smells like the person or people you love the most.”
The room goes silent. Apple’s face has gone paper white while Raven’s flushes with red. Dexter coughs loudly into his fist, tugging at his collar.
“But!” Cupid rushes as her classmates’ mortification sets in. “But, you know, there are different kinds of love! So, you know, friendship counts too!” Godmother, she doesn’t want to spill the beans on anyone’s crushes. Faybelle looks like she’s about to fly out the window and with how loud Kitty’s purring she’d be able to hear her from the top of the tower. “So, um. Well! We’re about done. All that’s left is to put in a single strand of hair from yourself, or from the person you’re giving it to, and it’s as done as it can legally get.”
Raven squeaks out, “Legally?”
“A love potion isn’t complete unless it has a drop of Oylmpian Ambrosia, which is banned in Ever After. And, well. Most places.” Cupid gestures to the potion. “See how it’s a silvery color? If we had the Ambrosia it’d turn gold.”
“What happens when you drink it?” Bunny asks softly, her ears perked.
“Well, if you’re the one drinking it, you get the courage to express the truth of your love to the person whose hair is dissolved in it. Platonic, romantic, or other.” She turns to Blondie, and starts again; she’s a lot closer than Cupid was anticipating, practically hanging off of her arm. “Oh! I was going to ask you for a cup…”
“Mmm, sure.” Blondie frowns in thought, and takes a few small sniffs. “You used a lot of shampoo today…”
“Uh?” She didn’t, really. She used the same amount as normal, but maybe Blondie’s a little loopy from being so close to the potion. “Why don’t you take a few steps back, okay? You look flushed, hon.”
“But it smells so good!” Blondie pouts and Cupid feels the back of her neck heating up as a nagging feeling tickles at the back of her head. No way. Oh, no way. “Like chocolate, and honeysuckle, and...something else, but your shampoo’s getting in the way of it.”
Cupid takes a sharp breath. Alongside the old copper, and the bluebells, she smells it; cinnamon porridge. Blondie’s favorite.
Oh. Is all she can bring herself to think. Oh, wow? Oh no. Oh, wow, no, oh no. This isn’t happening to her, not to C.A. Cupid. She cannot be having one of those epiphany moments where she realizes that alongside her crush on Dexter she’s had one on-- no way! There is no way she’s being a teenage cliche. What would her father say? What would her mother say?
...They’d probably eat it up, actually.
“Oh, uh, that happens,” Cupid stammers. “You know what, I, uh, I don’t think testing is necessary--”
“I’ll do it,” Apple says, a little desperately. “I mean, what’s the harm, right? We’re all friends here!” She slaps Raven’s arm hard enough for the sound to carry in the room, and Raven yelps and rubs at a red mark blooming against her skin.
Huh . Cupid looks over to Dexter, trying to gauge his reaction to the idea--and trying to gauge her own. He looks hopeful, quietly so. Cupid waits for the sting of her unrequited flame to hit her--and it does, just a little--but then there’s just worry. Raven hasn’t said a peep about what she smells, but there’s no need to; Raven’s soft expressions and that nervous, almost hungry way she looks between the potion and Apple, says enough.
“I t-think it’s a good idea,” Dexter says, softly. “Cupid? Is there a specific way, or…?”
Cupid smiles around a wince and nods silently. It’s his call if he wants to see it, really. She just hopes her friends will be okay with whatever the outcome is. She grabs a beaker and spoons out about two mouthfuls of potion, blowing away the light steam and scent. A soft chorus of sighs follows; Cupid can relate, really. Her first time brewing a love potion had her on a metaphorical--and literal--cloud for months.
“Raven, I need a strand of your hair.” A long, dark strand is carefully plucked with a flinch and handed to her, and Cupid drops it in the beaker. A spark of purple leaps up once it melts into the solution, and the silver turns a deep, passionate red, like the skin of an apple or the petals of a rose.
Red for romance. Usually this would be more than enough, but Apple takes the beaker and inhales. Once it’s in Apple’s hands, though, the potion turns red to ivory white. Warning bells resound in Cupid’s head, and she frowns thoughtfully.
A white potion would mean there’s no love at all...but it was red a minute ago. “Apple, I don’t think you should,” Cupid begins, warningly.
“Friends can love friends,” Apple says, voice tight. “Honestly, getting so worked up over a little...I’m just being silly! Bottom’s up.”
She tips her head back and gulps down the potion. She sets the beaker down, smacks her lips a little, and smiles. When she faces a tense Raven, she giggles.
“See? Everything’s normal.” Apple takes Raven’s hand, and squeezes. “Just a gal and her best friend forever after.”
Cupid can’t stifle her sympathetic grimace. Oof, Galpalla’d. She was so sure that the red color of the potion had meant something more. It hurts to see Raven’s shoulders slacking and her forcing a smile. Even Dexter looks disappointed at the result, maybe even a little ashamed. Was he hoping for this outcome? Cupid can’t blame him for it; they’re all teenagers tied to each other through destiny and dorm rooms, but they’re still teenagers at heart.
“Well, I’m glad everything worked out,” Cupid says, removing the cauldron off the heat for good. “Now, in order to properly store a love potion, you need to--”
“My MirrorPad!” Blondie shrieks and lunges, catching the tossed device just before it hits the desk. “Apple, what the spell --”
Apple doesn’t listen. She fists the feathers of Raven’s high collar, and in front of a stunned audience of thirteen students and a highly amused substitute professor, pulls her into a kiss that could curl the pages of an e-book. Raven flails her arms for a bit, before slowly settling them on Apple’s waist as her eyes shut. The silence lasts for a half a second before Daring lets out a whoop.
“Hexcellent technique, Apple! Thatta girl!”
It spurs the class into claps, and some whistles, and even Dexter joins in after a moment. If his eyes are glassy from tears, no one’s going to judge him. Cupid laughs, startled and delighted, and is halfway through a cheer of her own when every burner in the room bursts into purple flames.
Her feathers stand on end as she grows aware of a crackling sensation, like magic building...and building. And building .
“Uh,” Poppy says, loudly. “Are they... glowing? “
An ethereal, white light surrounds Raven and Apple a split second before the substitute shouts, “ Hit the deck! ”
Daring yelps, ducking. Poppy and Holly grab Faybelle and pull her down behind a row of chairs. Cerise makes a running leap and tackles Kitty under cover, a catlike shriek following their rough landing. Cupid grabs Blondie and pulls her down and behind the desk, holding her close as her wings fold around Blondie’s form.
The explosion comes right after, breaking every single window. The cauldron goes flying, and anything made remotely of glass shatters under the force. Cupid flinches, clutching Blondie tighter as she screams. When the magical light fades away, they slowly part and peer up over the edge of the table.
Apple and Raven remain wholly unaffected. No fuss, no muss. Not even a hair out of place, though one of Raven’s feet seems to have popped up. Cupid would find it cute, if the Chemythstry class wasn’t in utter, shambling chaos.
“Did, uh.” Raven swallows. “Did I do that?”
“I think you both did,” Dexter manages, his bag held over his head, squinting. Cupid can spy the lensless frames of his glasses scattered among the debris. “Everyone okay?”
Everyone begins to sound off, slowly coming out from behind their shelters. The substitute lets out a nervous, high laugh, fixing her bun as she brushes out her dress. Cerise pops up, Kitty balanced over her shoulders and shaking with an arched back. Alastair holds a quivering Bunny in his blue coat, her white fur fluffed out. Daring helps Rosabella to stand up, and Faybelle does the same to the O’Hair twins, the dark fairy clinging to a last remaining flask.
“So,” the sub claps her hands, “do you kids get extra credit for witnessing a True Love’s Kiss? Or is that negated by the whole…”
She waves her hands to the ruins of their classroom. “This.”
“I’m sorry, what? ” Apple breathes. “ What kind of kiss?”
Apple White’s hexistential crisis has to wait. Headmaster Grimm kicks down the door, followed by Baba Yaga. “What is the meaning of …”
The teachers lapse into a stunned, horrified silence. The class echoes it. The sub shrugs helplessly.
“Welp. We’re all dead anyway and I have always wanted to try this.” Faybelle lifts the flask above her head, and throws it to the floor, shouting, “ Scatter! ” The class watches her fly through a now open window, proclaiming that they’ll never take her alive.
“Detention,” Cupid sighs, feeding the straw into the spinning wheel and watching the magical properties turn it into shimmering gold. “For three months. “
“Well, we have to make up the costs to repair the Chemythstry room somehow,” Blondie says with false cheer. “For what it’s worth, your love potion was successful! That’s at least one A, right?”
“It would be if the worksheets hadn’t been incinerated.” Cupid laughs it off as best she can before a powerful sneeze has her hacking and coughing into a handkerchief. Her breath clogs and catches in her throat and she fumbles in her purse for her inhaler. After a quiet spritz she lets out a sigh of relief, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t mind working off the cost, but this is spell on my allergies.”
“Aww, I’ll make you something warm when we get through.” Blondie lets out a little sigh of her own. “I wish Headmaster Grimm hadn’t confiscated my MirrorPad. You worked so hard on that potion and it would have been a great bit on the show.”
“Well, the whole True Love explosion thing really kind of nipped that in the bud.” Cupid giggles. “I can always make another love potion, you know.”
“Mm.” They work in silence until Blondie says, “What did you smell?”
Cupid gulps. “Pardon?”
“The potion. You said everyone smells something different, right?” Blondie stops spinning the straw and looks up at her. Cupid feels her heart rate spike up, and the tips of her ears grow warm. When she’d first gotten a whiff of bluebells, she’d attributed it to Dexter’s eyes out of sheer instinct.
Now, though, it’s not Dexter’s eyes she has to compare them to.
“I mean, that’s...well, y’know--”
“I don’t think it was your shampoo I was smelling.” Blondie fidgets on her seat, fingers wringing together. “With the chocolate, and the honeysuckle. It was the potion.”
Cupid stops handling the straw now, because she has a very big feeling she’s going to need her inhaler soon if Blondie makes her heart race any faster. Has it always been so warm, down here? It’s enough to make her dizzy, or maybe that’s the lowgrade fever.
Blondie looks at her with quiet expectation, and Cupid should change the subject. It’s not that she doesn’t think they’d be good together-- when did she start thinking that? --she doesn’t want to give Blondie the impression that she’s flighty. For all they know, she’s been gripping a torch shaped like Dexter’s face with both hands. Suddenly jumping on board with Blondie might give the wrong signal.
But isn’t that the nature of love? No limits, no restraints, and no rules in regards to time. .
“Bl-bluebells,” she stammers. “Old copper--keys. I’m pretty sure they were supposed to be keys. And...and cinnamon porridge.”
Oh, wow. Blondie’s smile is indescribable. Her round cheeks are flushed rosy and bright and she looks like she’s a second from leaping at her. Cupid isn’t sure what holds her back--maybe the fact that the sooner they get done with their load of hay, the faster they can leave and really explore what it all means--but some part of her is grateful for it. She doesn’t want to really rush anything. Maybe Blondie’s rubbing off on her in this regard.
She wants everything to be, well, just right.
“Do you....do you want to go somewhere after this?” Blondie’s voice is soft, sweeter than honey. “Maybe we could go to Maddie’s and get a coffee.”
“The fresh air might do me some good,” Cupid jokes, and they share a laugh at that. “Yes. I would really, really love that, Blondie.”
An hour and a half later they have their evening’s worth of gold spun, and a morose Faybelle and Rosabella stand outside.
“Good luck in there,” Cupid says, patting Faybelle on the shoulder as she hears a huge hay bale materialize and land heavily in the room. “Try not to smash anymore flasks, huh?”
“Whatever. It was worth it.” Faybelle cackles and Rosabella follows the dark fairy in, already beginning on a lecture of no, Faybelle, you absolutely cannot charm the animals again. Do I have to call Ramona in here? I’ve got her on speed dial, I’ll do it! And then, Faybelle’s amused, Whoa, why do you have Ramona’s number in the first place?
The door shuts on Rosabella sputtered words. Cupid and Blondie blink at each other before leaning against each other in a fit of laughter, Cupid’s a little more congested than normal. As they walk, they don’t lean away; Blondie wraps an arm around the small of her back, nestling close against her side. Cupid feels an enamoured twitch rolling through her wings, and settles her own arm around Blondie’s waist.
Love doesn’t have to be slow, or fast. Any pace can be their ‘just right’. Warmth rolls in her chest; Cupid takes a hit off of her inhaler, and walks Blondie to get some coffee.