I was home sick today, so I thought, "Hey! Even though I have three stories to update, I'm going to shirk my responsibilities and write a new story!" ((And I updated my other stories today, anyway)) So I wrote this for IHeartScience's contest. The rules are as follows:

1. Must be romantic, I'm talking some major fluff!

2. It can't be Hamilton/Sinead

3. You can have up to four characters get trapped

4. Happy ending

5. If you want you could have them play a game to pass time (Example: truth or dare)

6. No songfics

7. Evan does not exist

8. Must use the line, "Unicorns are real!"

9. They can either be accidentally trapped, or their friends could have trapped them in order to get them together.

10. Please don't use OC

This was my though process when deciding who to write about:

Amy and Ian? Love it, but overdone.

Dan and Natalie? No.

Sinead and Hamilton? Nope, against the rules.

Little voice in head: Amian...Amian...

Me: I don't know...

Voice: You know you want to...

Me: ALRIGHT! I'LL WRITE ABOUT AMY AND IAN!

Which brings me to my disclaimer:

I don't own The 39 Clues, Red Vines ((AVPS fans–UNITE!)), or Payless.

Now, let me introduce: What Could Happen in a Pantry?

Dan was going to get it.

The usual crowd was at Grace's mansion for a Madrigal meeting—the Holts, the Kabras, the Starlings, and Jonah.

But at the moment, Amy was only interested in finding one specific Cahill.

"Dan!" Amy charged through the sitting room, almost crashing into the Holt twins.

"Yikes!"

"Watch it, Amy!"

"Sorry," Amy apologized distractedly. "Have you guys seen Dan anywhere?"

Reagan and Madison exchanged a look, then silently pointed to the couch.

"Nope," Reagan said aloud.

"Haven't seen him," Madison added.

Amy smiled at them, then walked over to the couch and reached under.

Her hands found a pair of ankles, which she immediately grabbed onto and yanked.

Dan came sliding out from under the couch.

"Hey!"

Amy stood over him, her arms crossed. "What have you been telling people about me?"

Dan looked up at her, his face the picture of innocence. "Now why would I talk about such a boring topic?"

"Then why were you hiding under the couch?" Amy accused.

"Um...I'm allergic to Cobras?"

Amy rolled her eyes and hauled her brother to his feet. "Dan. Natalie came up to me a few minutes ago and congratulated me on—" She made
air quotes with her fingers, "—finally getting over her brother and getting a boyfriend. Then Jonah came over to me and offered me some
dating advice if I needed it."

The edges of Dan's lips twitched.

"And then," she continued, "Hamilton told me that if my boyfriend ever hurt me in any way, he would gladly beat him up for me. Daniel Arthur
Cahill, what have you done?"

Dan couldn't hold it in any longer. He burst out laughing.

Amy glared at him. "I don't find the humor in this," she said coldly.

Dan collapsed onto the floor, tears of mirth streaming from his eyes.

"They...actually...believed me!" he finally managed to choke out.

"Dan!" Amy exclaimed. "You know fully well that I don'thave a boyfriend!"

"That's why it's so funny!" Dan sat up, wiping his eyes. "No one expected you to ever get a boyfriend. You know, unless Ian somehow
managed to drug you or something—"

"DAN!"

"—but when I told them that you DID have a boyfriend, they all totally fell for it!" Dan snickered. "I guess they didn't want you to
be forever alone after all."

Amy groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I've got a lot of explaining to do." She took in a sharp breath. "You didn't tell Ian,
did you?"

Dan shook his head sadly. "I was about to, but then I saw my crazy sister on the warpath, so I hid under the couch. Hey, did you know
that Saladin keeps all of the stuff he steals under there? I found my spare nunchucks, Nellie's headphones—"

Dan was interrupted by the Holt twins walking up.

"Amy," Madison began, "we just wanted to tell you two things. One, you're making a huge mistake."

"Guys are stupid," Reagan agreed.

"Hey!" protested Dan.

Madison gestured down at him. "Exhibit A."

Dan's face was furious. "Excuse me, but do YOU have a photographic memory?"

"I don't need one," Madison said smugly. "I can do well on tests without having a picture of the answers in my head."

"Well, at least I don't think that mythical creatures are real!"

"Unicorns are real, Cahill. Get with the program."

"What—"

"Guys!" Amy interrupted. "Calm down! I don't have a boyfriend!"

Reagan and Madison looked at her in confusion. "You don't?" they said in unison. "But Ham said—"

"I know, I know." Amy glared down at her brother. "It was a little story created by Mr. Cahill down there, in his continued attempts to
make my life miserable."

"I prefer the term keeping you on your toes."

Amy rolled her eyes. "You said you had two things to say?"

Reagan thought for a moment. "Oh, yeah!" she said. "The refreshments table is out of Red Vines."

Amy's brow furrowed. "I didn't put out any Red Vines–"

"Oh, that was me," Dan said. "There's another bag in the pantry."

Amy sighed. "I'll get it," she said, heading for the kitchen.

"Ian!" The silence of the sitting room was broken as Natalie came storming in. "I swear, these barbarians don't have a spot of tea in
their whole kitchen—not as if their kitchen is very large, anyway."

She paused. "What are you doing moping in here, anyway?"

Ian looked up from his seat on the couch. "I'm not moping," he said defensively. "I was just, erm...enjoying this magazine I found."

He quickly picked up a magazine from the coffee table and flipped it open. "Fascinating stuff, this is."

Natalie walked across the room and stood next to her brother. "Ten Easy Tips for the Least Amount of Pain During Full Body Waxes?"

Ian cleared his throat noisily. "Must've been another article I was looking at."

Natalie crossed her arms. "Are you upset because I told you that Amy Cahill has a boyfriend?"

"Of course not!" Ian answered, perhaps too quickly. "Why on Earth would I be bothered by a thing like that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Natalie said sarcastically. "Perhaps the fact that you've had a crush on her for the past two years and never did anything about it? Oh, don't deny it, Ian. I'm not stupid. I hear you in your room, talking to your mirror." Natalie deepened her voice in an imitation of her brother's. "Amy, I just wanted to tell you, although you dress like a peasant and your brother is an idiot, I have feelings for you. So, congratulations."

"I do not sound like that," Ian said moodily.

"Yes, you do."

"No, I do not."

"Anyway," Natalie continued breezily, "why don't you just tell her? While I'll admit that you could easily find much prettier, better-classed, better-dressed, non-American girls who would gladly date you, if you're so set on Amy Cahill, why don't you tell her that?"

"Because she has a boyfriend?" Ian pointed out drily.

"Oh, rubbish." Natalie raised an eyebrow. "Since when has that stopped you? Let me bring to mind Danielle, Sarah, Amanda, Rebecca, Caroline—"

"All right, all right, I get the point!" Ian sighed. "But Amy's...different. If she's happy with her boyfriend...well, then I want her to stay happy."

There was a pause. Then:

"WHAT?" Natalie was aghast. "Are you joking? 'If she's happy, then I want her to stay happy.' Ian, this is reality, not some bad American soap opera. WHAT KIND OF KABRA ARE YOU?"

"A changed one."

"Yes, that's apparent," Natalie said coldly. "I cannot believe you're giving up so easily. Ugh, I can't even bear to look at you."

Ian rolled his eyes.

Natalie sunk into a chair, the back of her hand against her forehead dramatically.

"What has this world come to? First Amy Cahill gets a boyfriend, and now you won't even fight for her love!"

"Natalie, you're blowing this way out of proportion—"

"Fetch me some tea, Ian," Natalie interrupted. "I'm not feeling well."

Glad to have any excuse to get away from his overly-dramatic sister,

Ian left the room in search for some tea.

Amy pulled open the door to the pantry and began down the stairs, pulling the door behind her.

"Amy!" Nellie called from the kitchen. "Don't close the door! Dan broke the lock last week, remember?"

"Oh, right. Thanks, Nellie."

"No problem. I'm bringing out the food for dinner, so come into the dining room when you're done."

"Okay, Nellie." Amy reached for the light switch and flicked it on.

Nothing happened.

"Nellie, did Dan break the light switch, too?"

"You guessed it, kiddo."

Amy sighed. She was going to have to have a little talk with her brother.

Again.

She made her way down the steps, her only light coming in from the open door.

The pantry was small, only about five by five feet. The walls were lined with shelves, stocked with everything from canned fruit to pretzels. As a kid, Nellie and her family had once been stuck inside for two days in a hurricane, with only two cans of fruit and a granola bar to share between the five of them. That's why Nellie always had the pantry fully stocked with fruit, vegetables, soup...

...and Red Vines.

Amy spotted the package that Dan had stored on one of the shelves of the pantry. She started to reach for it.

Suddenly, she heard the door shut. There must have been a draft that blew it closed. "Oh, no," she groaned.

"Amy?" came a voice.

"Ian?"

"Why are you standing in the dark?"

"It wasn't dark until you closed the door."

"Oh. Sorry about that. Where's the light switch?"

"It's broken."

"Then I'll open the door." Amy heard him rattle the lock.

"It won't open."

"The lock's broken."

"Is everything broken in this house?"

"If Dan Cahill lived with you, everything in your house would be broken, too."

Amy heard him bang on the door. They waited.

"They must all be in the dining room."

"Nellie told me they were about to eat."

"We'll just have to wait, then."

There was a silence.

"What're you doing down here, anyway?"

"Natalie sent me for some tea. You had none in your kitchen."

Amy snorted. "This place hasn't seen a teabag since Fiske had some Madrigal agents over for dinner. Last year."

"How do you live like that?"

"Like what?"

Ian sighed. "Like you're...you know..."

"Poor?"

"Exactly."

Amy shrugged, then realized that he couldn't see her shrug. "I guess that's just what we're used to."

Ian shuddered. "I just don't see how you can stand wearing cotton."
"What's wrong with cotton?"

"It's for poor people."

"Well, after being 'poor' for fourteen years of my life, it's kind of a hard habit to shake. You're saying you don't have any trouble transitioning from being rich?"

There was a silence.

"That's what I thought."

"I'm handling myself fairly well, in my opinion."

"Oh, yeah? How much are the shoes you're wearing?"

"Several hundred pounds. I had them custom-made in Italy."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Ian, I bought my shoes for twelve dollars at Payless."

"Where's Payless? Is that in France?"

"It's a store, Ian. A cheap, American store."

Ian shuddered again. "I don't know how you do it."

"Like I said. I've been doing it for most of my life already."

Ian took a step down the stairs. "But how—" Too late, he realized that he miscalculated the step. The stairs were smaller than he expected. His foot slipped, and he tumbled down the four short steps and landed in a heap at the bottom.

"Ian!" Amy moved forward, not realizing that Ian was right under her feet. She tripped over his legs and landed on top of him.

"Oof!"

"Ow."

"Sorry."

"My fault. I fell down the steps."

Amy rolled off of him. "Are you okay?"

Ian sat up and patted himself down. "Nothing broken." Amy heard him let out a hiss.

"What? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, really..." He grunted.

"Ian, something's wrong."

"My...my arm. I think."

She reached out and found his arm. Ian tensed at her touch.

Amy gently put pressure on his upper arm. "Does this hurt?"

"No..." It actually felt good. Really, really good.

"This?"

Ian winced.

"It's your wrist."

"Sprained or broken?"

"Can't tell."

Ian groaned.

Amy held his wrist gently. "Can you try to move it?"

She felt his hand move slightly. Then a sharp intake of breath.

"It hurts."

"Oh, grow up." She paused. "If you can move it, it's not broken. Probably just a sprain."

"Wonderful," Ian groaned. "Just perfect. I'm sitting on the floor, probably getting my trousers filthy, my wrist is sprained, we're stuck
in here, and above all—" He stopped.

"Above all?"

"Nothing."

"No, what?"

"Never mind."

"Ian, you said, 'and above all.' What else is wrong?"

Silence. Then:

"How long have you had a boyfriend?"

"What?" Amy groaned. "Dan said he didn't tell you."

"He didn't. Natalie did."

"Oh."

"What's his name?"

"Well, you see—"

"Probably some classic American name, like Joe or Pete. Or Evan. God, I've always hated that name."

"Ian—

"I'll bet he's taken you out to dinner, eh? To one of those fast food places you Americans are so fond of. I suppose he's never taken you to a five-star restaurant."

"If you'd just listen—"

"And he's probably given you flowers, hasn't he? Fake pansies, no doubt. Nothing like roses. And other trivial presents, like cheap chocolates. He's probably never bought you good chocolates, good expensive chocolate, only for the best."

"Would you just—wait, what?"

"Perhaps he's a football player, or does one of those other useless sports you Americans enjoy. But I'll bet he's never ridden a horse in his life, much less played a real man's sport—like polo."

"Don't you play polo?" Amy asked drily.

"Of course. All proper British men do."

"Ian, what are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that you deserve better!" he exclaimed as if it was perfectly obvious.

"Like...you?"

Ian spluttered for a minute. How could she...I wasn't being that obvious, was I?

"Of course not!" he finally said.

"Oh." Was that...disappointment he heard?

His spirits lifted. Just a smidge.

"Well...I mean..." Stop it, Kabra! She's not like the other girls! You want her to be happy!

"No," he said firmly, more to himself than Amy.

He heard Amy shift slightly. She was still holding his wrist.

"You'd think they'd come looking for us by now," Ian said after a pause.

"They're probably too busy trying to distribute equal portions to notice. Or they just figure that two less people is more food for them."

Ian chuckled. "Very true."

There was a long, not necessarily uncomfortable, silence between them.

Finally, Amy spoke:

"Ian?"

"Hm?"

"I don't...I don't have a boyfriend."

"What?" Ian gave a jolt, then let out a small gasp. He had jerked his wrist out of Amy's hand.

"Oh, Ian," Amy gently scolded, finding his wrist again and holding it steady. "Your wrist isn't going to get any better if you throw it around like that."

Ian wasn't listening. "You...you don't have a boyfriend?"

"No. Dan made up that stupid story and went around telling people to get on my nerves."

Ian groaned at his own stupidity. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried. But you were rambling on about five-star restaurants and roses and chocolates and polo..."

"I was not rambling—"

"...and you wouldn't even let me get a single word in..."

"Amy—"

"...just going on and on and on about how any American boy I might date wouldn't treat me well enough..."

"Amy—"

"...and then you had the nerve to deny that you were saying that you're the perfect guy, not necessarily for me, oh, no, heaven forbid you would actually admit that you like me..."

"Amy!"

Amy took a breath. "What?"

He found her face in the dark, pulled her towards him, and kissed her.

There was a pause. Then:

"Ian?"

"Yes?"

"That was my nose."

They were both silent. Then Ian snorted. That set them both off, and the two of them began cracking up.

"What the heck is going on down there?" came a voice from behind the pantry door.

"Dan?" Amy called. "Can you get the door open?"

They heard the door handle rattle. "It's jammed."

"And who's fault is that?"

"Hey, it's not my fault you closed the door behind you!"

"That would be my fault," Ian said.

"Oh, so the Cobra is with you," Dan said. "Look, Ian, if put your hands on her..."

"It's okay, Dan," Amy called. "Just get the door unjammed."

"I'll get the Starlings." They heard his footsteps patter away.

"Well," Ian said, "I have to admit, I was somewhat intimidated by that threat."

"What did he say? Don't put your hands on me?"

"Hm...I suppose I could work around that." And, without putting his hands on her, he kissed her again.

And this time, he found her lips.

When Sinead finally got the door unjammed, Ian and Amy emerged as if nothing had happen. And no one suspected a thing. After all, what could happen in a pantry?

That's it. Thanks for reading my Amian fluff. Review, please!

Peace!

-KT