C'est la vie

When Fleur had been a young foal, and the world had been a much bigger place, there wasn’t anything that she loved more than to pile a mountain of blankets on top of her bed and hide under them all. It had always calmed her after a stressful day. The warmth, the gentle weight of the blankets, the darkness that they could provide. It helped make the big, scary world a little smaller and more controllable.

Her bed might have been much bigger now than it had been when she was small and her blankets might have been better made and far more expensive, but it seemed like what she had felt as a filly still held true. There was something comforting lying under the blankets, something that spoke to her on a subconscious level.

The world wasn’t bad in this bed. There were no cameras or news reporters. Her manager wasn’t who-knows-where losing his marbles. She didn’t have to do damage control under twenty blankets, and she also didn’t have to explain her inappropriate behavior to her employers. All she needed to do was lay here, stare at the blanket in front of her, and do her best to ignore anyone but herself. As she had for the last two days.

Underneath her blanket pile, she let out a groan. “Putain de merde…”

Sinking as deep into her bed as she could, the supermodel closed her eyes, looking forward to another day of warmth and anxiety. Before she could properly begin wallowing however, the door to her balcony opened.

“Fräulein!”

Blankets flew everywhere as Fleur quickly sat up, only to become tangled. “Fichu! Damné! Imbécile!”

The more the supermodel struggled against her blankets, the more tangled she became. Cursing loudly and often, she thrashed and rolled around her bed as hard as she could, determined to free herself. Unfortunately for her, she was a little too determined and found herself rolling out of her bed for her troubles.

“Oomph! Stupid couvertures!”

Her intruder tsked. Trotting over, she began to free her from the silk prison that she had made herself.

“Meine Celestia, Fleur. To zink that only after two days I’d find you in such a state!”

“Fous le camp!”

“Watch zat mouth. You might not be my daughter, but I’ll bend you over mein knee and beat you all the same.”

Eventually, after even more cursing and ineffectual wiggling, a red-faced, thoroughly humiliated, and panting Fleur found herself staring up into the bemused face of Photo Finish.

The unicorn’s brow furrowed at the sight of her old friend. “…Photo? What are you doing here?”

Photo, bending down, picked her up like a foal and lifted her onto her back. “I heard zat you were hiding in your room like ze little filly that was caught with her hoof in ze cookie jar, so I decided to come see you.”

Fleur tried to roll off the older mare’s back, but with the strength that only an earth pony could have, Photo held her in place. “Non, I meant how did you get in here? I told my security not to let anypony on the premises.”

Tossing her onto her makeup chair, Photo scoffed. “Zose Dummköpfe couldn’t keep a pony out of here if zey walked through ze front door.”

“All of the doors were locked!”

“Which is why I climbed to ze balcony, my dear.”

Fleur tried to push herself out of her chair, only to be pushed right back in it. Grumbling in Prench, she glared at her old friend. Photo ignored the glare, humming a tune to herself as she pulled out a comb from somewhere in her dress and began working on the supermodel’s mane.

“Look at zis, look at zis… You look like ze crazy mare,” she said with a shake of her head.

Fleur winced as Photo yanked apart a knot in her mane. “Could I at least do this myself please? You’re going to tear half of my mane out!”

“Nein,” Photo said, lightly tapping her horn with the comb before going back to brushing.

The supermodel let out an explosive sigh, sinking into her chair. A pause settled onto the room, which was only interrupted by the occasional grunt and yelp of pain.

“…So, how is everything outside?”

“It’s a mad house,” Photo said, clicking her tongue. “Ponies are talking, Essence is yapping like ze little dog. When I jumped your fence—”

“You did wha—OW!”

“Hush. When I jumped your fence, I saw zat the streets were crowded with paparazzi and news ponies.”

Fleur closed her eyes. She had a feeling this was going to happen.

She sighed again, moving her head to the side to give Photo better access to her mane. “…And how is Sam doing? Has anypony been bothering him? Is he alright? Is he safe?”

“I told Sam to stay in his apartment for ze time being,” Photo said, giving Fleur’s head another little tap with the comb before tossing it across the room. “Zere we go! Good as new!”

Fleur’s gaze flicked up to her mirror. Though her mane looked nothing like it would have if her stylist was here, it was much better than it had been a few minutes ago.

“Merci, Photo,” she said.

Nodding her head, Photo yanked Fleur out of the chair and dropped her onto her back, much to the supermodel’s displeasure. She kicked and wiggled, but it was no use as Photo trotted toward her bedroom door.

“Come! We must be off!”

“Photo! Put me down!

“Nein You must get out of ze house. I will take you to a café and we will drink coffee and talk.”

“What?! Non!”

“Ja! Now stop squirming, you Kind!”

Thankfully, Photo had put Fleur down before the two of them went outside. Fleur had, of course, tried to make a break for her bedroom, but ended up being dragged to the front door by her tail for her troubles.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Hush, before I give ze cameras something to take ze pictures of.”

The moment that her front door was open, Fleur could hear the sounds of cameras clicking. When she was forced outside by a hard bump to the rump, that was when the questioning started.

“Fleur! Colt Corban here! Are the accusations that you were caught stealing kisses true?”

“Fleur! Is this just a publicity stunt or something more?”

“Fleur! What does your new alien lover’s penis look like? Does it have four heads? Does it shoot out eggs instead of semen? Do you have some of those eggs inside of you right now? What color are they?”

“Did he put it in your butt? Is that how his kind birth their young?”

Fleur shied away from the questions and camera clicks. She looked at the ground, trying to appear as small as possible.

“Photo, why don’t we go back inside?” she suggested. “I can have some coffee made and we can talk—”

“Nonsense!” Photo cried, marching toward the gate that separated them from the mob. “Just let me deal with zese leeches, and we’ll be on our way.”

She turned toward the security guards standing by the gate. Both stallions looked baffled as to how the mare had gotten past them, but Photo ignored it, throwing a hoof into the air.

“Open ze door!”

The guards looked at each other before looking over at Fleur. Fleur, of course, shook her head.

“Open ze door, you ninnies!” Photo demanded, pointing a hoof at them while looking up at the sky. “Hurry now! Daylight is burning!”

The guards twitched at the older mare’s shout before leaping to action. The crowd, seeing them unlocking the gate, pressed in with camera’s ready. Seeing this, Fleur took a step back, ready to run back to her house if the mob surged forward.

Clearing her throat and fixing her dress, Photo looked back at the unicorn and smiled. “Don’t go anywhere, mein Mädchen. I’ll be right back.”

As the gates creaked open, Photo trotted toward the group of ponies with her head held high. Paparazzi and news ponies alike pressed themselves against the gate, trying to open it faster. A stallion, his notebook at the ready, managed to push through the mob and stand before the photographer-turned-producer.

“Photo Finish, Newscast here! What do you have to say about the allegations surrounding Ms. de Lis’—”

Photo reached into the sleeve of her dress and pulled out a newspaper. Rolling it up into a tight bundle, she looked up at the stallion, frowned, and smacked him on the head with it as hard as she could. The stallion, who had been looking down at his notebook, was taken completely by surprise. His questions turned into a yelp as he jumped back, rubbing the top of his head.

Photo continued forward, her weapon at the ready. “Begone with you!” she barked, swinging the newspaper like a bat. “Go! Shoo! Before I give you ze business, you Hund!”

She forced the poor stallion to retreat back into the mob, but she didn’t stop there. Letting out a mighty battle cry in Germaneic, the earth pony leapt into the crowd and began hitting everything within hooves’ length.

“Argh!”

“Ow!”

“Somepony stop that mare!”

“Stop! Get away!”

“She just booped that mare’s snoot! The monster!”

Through savagery alone, Photo drove back the dozens of ponies, much to the amazement of Fleur and her guards. The older mare cursed, spat, and hissed like an angry lioness. Every time the mob tried to lead a counterattack it was beaten back with ruthless efficiency, and every time they tried to swarm her it ended with ponies running away holding their heads.

“Ja, ja, take your pictures! Where do you zink you’re going? Come back here you Ungeziefer!”

Eventually the mob found themselves fleeing for their lives, dropping notebooks and whatever else they were holding so they could run faster. The ponies that were standing on the edges of the battlefield, the shopkeepers and regular joes could be heard laughing hysterically as the streets emptied until only Photo remained.

The mare’s hair was wild. Her glasses were crooked and she was panting hard. Her trusty newspaper was torn and tattered, a testament to its use.

Baring her teeth, Photo looked around to see if there were any more foes to defeat. Seeing none, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

She slipped her newspaper back into her dress, fixing her glasses and running a hoof through her mane. She then adjusted her dress, looked to her left and right to see if she was presentable, and looked over at Fleur.

“See? All fixed,” she said with a smile. “Now come along, Fräulein. Zat was thirsty work.”

@-@-@-@-@-@

As luck would have it, one of the ponies that had been watching the massacre was the owner of a very nice little café not that far from Fleur’s home. The old stallion had insisted that they come down for a cup off coffee—free of charge, of course; he hadn’t laughed that hard in ages—and was even nice enough to put the two in a secluded booth so that they could talk in relative peace.

“So, what happened, Mädchen?” Photo asked. “I’ve heard a dozen different things from a dozen different ponies. Now I want to hear it from you.”

Fleur sighed, bringing her cup to her lips and taking a sip of her drink while she thought on how to begin. “I don’t know, mon chère, I truly don’t,” she admitted, her shoulders sagging. “We were sitting in one of the back rooms, he showed me a few movies that he had on his computer, I somehow fell asleep on top of him…”

“Did you mount him zen?” Photo asked, leaning forward.

Fleur flinched as if slapped. “What? No!” she shouted. “I’d never do that in the studio!”

“And why not? Zere are worse places to buck,” Photo said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Ponies used to rut in those rooms all the time when ze studio first opened. You couldn’t open a door without seeing a mare splayed out spread ea—”

“Will you keep your voice down? There’re other ponies in here!”

“What? It’s just a little bit of sex.”

“It’s inappropriate!”

“Says ze mare that was caught on top of her photographer.”

“T-That was a misunderstanding!”

Photo smiled around the edges of her coffee cup. “You need to learn to live a little, Liebes. All work and no play tends to burn ponies out.”

Fleur quickly looked around to see if anyone was staring at their booth. When she saw that no eyes were glancing in their direction, she leaned forward toward her old friend.

“I shouldn’t have done what I did, even if it’s not what ponies think,” she said, looking down onto the table. “It was terribly unprofessional and in poor taste.”

“Blah! Zere was nothing wrong with what you did,” Photo said with a dismissive wave of the hoof. “If I had been in your position, I would have taken zat colt somewhere private to make ze magics weeks ago. Zere’s nothing better for a shoot zen for a few ponies on set to rut. It always helps blow off a little steam.”

Despite herself, Fleur found her cheeks reddening. Disgust, not unlike the feeling of a child walking in on their parents going at it, welled up in her stomach. Fleur swallowed the bile that was making its way up her throat before taking another sip of her coffee.

“Yes… well, be that as it may, I shouldn’t have done what I did, and now I’m paying the price for it.”

Photo snorted. “Nein, ze only thing that you did wrong was act like ze silly filly and hide away in your room after everypony found out about it.”

Leaning forward, she bopped Fleur on the nose.

“If you would have just come out and admitted it, ponies would have been talking for a day or two at most, but because you hide now zey have ze ants in their pants and your manager has to do ze damage control.”

Realization hit Fleur in the stomach like a punch, causing her ears to fold against her skull. “I… I might have overreacted,” she said after a pause.

Photo nodded, setting her now empty coffee cup onto the table. “Ja, you did.”

“If I would have just came out the next day and explained what actually happened, the paparazzi wouldn’t have been hounding me for the last few days,” Fleur continued, feeling sillier and sillier by the second. “Even if they wouldn’t have believed me there would have only been whispers…”

“And ze occasional mare zat would ask you how he was,” Photo said, making a shockingly lewd gesture with a hoof. “Or if his cock had more zan one head or whatever silly things fillies fantasize about these days.”

Fleur’s blush crept down to her neck. “Why didn’t I just do that?” she muttered to herself. “Why didn’t I…?”

Her thoughts drifted toward Sam, causing her stomach to tighten. How was he doing in the midst of all of this? Did he feel angry about what she had done? Betrayed? Would he refuse to work with her anymore, or even go back to his own world and leave her?

Her shoulders sagged. “I should go to Sam and apologize for putting him through this, as well as… taking advantage of him.”

“Taking advantage? Quatsch!” Photo said, hopping onto her chair. “Zere is no shame in showing a stallion ze affection!”

“Photo, sit down,” Fleur hissed, sinking into her chair in horror. “Ponies are—”

“You are ze model Fleur de Lis! Alien or not, Sam should thank his lucky stars zat you want to make ze foals with him!”

“What?! I wasn’t trying to—Will you stop—”

Before Fleur could finish her sentence, Photo leapt up onto the table, nearly knocking both of their cups to the floor. The patrons of the café, curious as to what all of the fuss was about, began glancing in her direction. The owner of the café, who was standing behind his little wooden counter, immediately brightened, leaning over his counter to get a better look.

“I found you and raised you as mein own foal! You are ze pinnacle of grace and class! You own the stage! Ze camera loves you! Your rump is something ze youth of Equestria drift off to sleep dreaming about!”

Fleur sunk a bit more into her chair. “This is why I don’t let you take me to places anymore!”

“To not be ashamed, mein little Liebiling! Stand tall!”

The unicorn tried to pull Photo off the table with a spell. Photo dodged it by leaping into the air. When her hooves hit the table, a bang that could have been heard down the street thundered throughout the café, causing what little ponies weren’t watching the two to look over.

“Do as you like, my dear! Let no pony stop you!” Photo continued, striking a pose. “Ze world is your stage!”

This was the final straw for Fleur. With a silent cry, she hopped up from her chair and grabbed her old mentor. Using both her physical strength and her magic, she managed to pull the earth pony off of the table and set her back into her chair.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with ze speaking,” Photo complained, trying to wiggle out of the supermodel’s grasp, only for Fleur to magically glue her backside to her chair.

“I know, which is why I’m stopping you, you Jument folle.”

“Is zat how I raised you? To speak to your elders like zat?”

“If you’re my elder than act like it!”

Laughter rang out throughout the café as Fleur sat back down with as much dignity as she could muster. “Now behave yourself. I’d rather not be in the papers for anything else, thank you.”

“Every model needs ze scandal or two in her career,” Photo said, fixing her glasses. “Und zis is barely one. Ponies are going to be more upset when zey find out zat you weren’t ze first filly to vögeln a human.”

“I’d never make love to Sam just to boost my reputation!” Fleur said, puffing up in indignation.

Photo raised an eyebrow. “Make love?”

Fleur deflated a bit when she realized what she had just said. “I… you know what I mean! Rutting, bucking, making love—it’s all the same thing!”

“Weren’t you ze one that spoke to me about yelling,” Photo asked, and was promptly ignored.

“Not that I’m implying that I wouldn’t because I find him unattractive! I actually find him very pleasing to look at, but that doesn’t mean that I’d ruin what we have just to have my name in the papers! That stallion deserves much, much better than that!”

“Oh really, Mädchen?”

“Of course! You know that I’m not that kind of mare! If Sam and I were ever to take our relationship to the next level, I’d make sure to—”

Mid-rant, Fleur noticed that she had somehow found her face uncomfortably close to Photo’s. Moving away from the smirking mare, she found that she was standing on her chair, using the edges of the table as support so she could lean across it. More chuckles and even an “aww” or two reached her ears, causing her to jump back to her seat with an “eep!”

“Is zere anything else zat you want to tell ze public?” Photo asked, leaning back into her chair. “Perhaps you’d like to sing songs of love for your soon to be Lebenspartner?”

Fleur took a sudden and overwhelming interest in the table, fidgeting in her seat. More good-natured chuckles filled the air.

A waiter, carrying two steaming cups of coffee, trotted over to the unicorn and earth pony, grabbing their empty cups and setting the new ones in front of them.

“There you two go. It’s on the house again,” he said, obviously trying to hold back a smile.

“Danke,” Photo said, picking up her coffee and blowing on it.

“Merci,” Fleur muttered, refusing to look at anypony.

The waiter nodded and was about to turn around to go back to the counter, but stopped. “Ms. Fleur? I know that everypony might be havin’ a bit of fun at your expense, but I hope you know we’re not being mean about it,” he said. “Out of all of those fancy ponies near the castle and on the east end, none of them do as much as you for this city. So, if you want to get an alien coltfriend, just know we’ll be happy to support you.”

Fleur’s nose scrunched up. “Non, chere, he’s not my—”

Before she could finish her sentence, she petered out, letting out a defeated sigh.

“…Thank you very much.”

The stallion, satisfied with her answer, nodded his head. “Great! If you two need anything else just let me know.”

Both Fleur and Photo watched as he made his way back to the counter. Photo was biting her lip, obviously trying to keep herself from laughing. Fleur, meanwhile, looked like she was ready to beat her head against the table until one of them broke.

“If I were you, I’d go and speak to Sam, Mädchen,” Photo said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Otherwise, he’s going to be very confused when ze papers begin printing stories that you and him are Liebhaber.”

Fleur, too emotionally exhausted to react to the little jab, sighed. “I should go and speak to him anyway. To check and see how he is doing...”

“Ja, but make sure to have ze blinds closed when ze two of you are about to ‘apologize’,” Photo advised, setting down her cup. “We wouldn’t want to give any papers any more stories, yes?”

The tip of Fleur’s horn glowed as she picked up her coffee cup and took a lady like sip. The newspaper hidden in the bowels of Photo’s dress slid out of the mare’s sleeve, and before she could so much as blink, it smacked her right on the head. Hard.

@-@-@-@-@-@-@

“…Are you sure this is the place, Photo?”

“Ja. Zis is ze address that Sam give me.”

Fleur looked at the large, worn apartment complex in front of her. Immediately, she could see that it had seen better days. The once white walls had been stained by mud and smoke. Not a single window was clean, and the majority of them were cracked or replaced with wood. Even the front door was a little worse for wear, its metal frame bent, rusted, and hanging at an odd angle.

“Why in Celestia’s name would Sam want to live here?” Fleur asked, a twinge of horror in her voice. “Wouldn’t the princesses have offered him a room at the castle?”

“Zey did, as did I, but Sam told us no,” Photo said with a shrug. “Ze stallion said zat he didn’t want to be a bother.”

“There’s not wanting to be a bother and living in a place where he could get hurt!”

“Oh, zis is the south side. Ze only thing he has to worry about is ponies knocking on his door all hours of the day so zey can come in and talk his ear off.”

Fleur looked at her old mentor, then at the looming building once more. Photo was, of course, right. Even if the south side was the poorer section of the city, the ponies here weren’t known for anything nefarious or vile. In fact, she knew them as some of the most generous mares and stallions that she had ever met. Still though, that knowledge didn’t make her feel any less worried.

“This is almost an hour away from the studio,” she said. “If he really wanted to get a place of his own, he should have found one a little closer…”

“He said zat he wanted ze cheapest place in the city, since he wanted to save his bits.”

“He wouldn’t have to spend any money at all if he’d have just stayed with the princesses or you!”

“Yes, well, after you proclaim your love, I’m sure you could offer him a room in your mansion. Perhaps in your own bedroom,” Photo said, giving Fleur a pat on the back, which was immediately slapped away. “He’ll be on ze third floor, room fifteen.”

“Merci,” Fleur replied, taking a half-step toward the building.

“You can do it, my girl. I believe in you,” Photo said with a smile. “Now I must be off. Zere are other places that I must be.”

Looking up onto the sky, the earth pony clapped her hooves. “Strudel! Guerlain!”

Two mares rushed out of the alley next to the building. Heads held high, they trotted over and picked up Photo, who struck a pose. They then proceeded carry her down the street while Photo began humming the Germaney national anthem.

“…What?” Fleur murmured, before shaking her head. “Wait! Why don’t you come in with me, ma amie? You could—”

The supermodel’s call came just a few moments too late as Photo and her assistants disappeared around a corner, leaving her all alone in front of this rundown building.

“Pomme de route…”

Dryly swallowing, Fleur looked back up at the building. She took another half-step forward, only to take a nervous step back. She tried to take another step, only for similar results.

“Come on now, fille. You need to go see him,” she said. “You’re going to see him.”

Gathering up her courage, she took a step forward, then another, then another. She made her way up the steps to the building’s front door, opening it up and stepping inside. After that, it was just a matter of navigating the halls and finding the steps.

She made her way to her photographer’s apartment slowly, carefully pondering what she was going to say to him. An apology was obviously in order, but what kind of apology? Was a simple sorry going to cut it, or was she going to need to really show him just how bad she felt putting him through all of this? She didn’t know, but she knew that when she knocked on his door and he opened it, she was going to say something. Hopefully something that would get her out of the mess that she found herself in.

Though the urge to run back to her house so she could hide in her bedroom made the fur on the back of her neck stand on edge more than once, Fleur eventually found herself on the third floor standing in front of room fifteen.

The hallway was silent. Not a single pony could be seen. While the carpet looked like it had been cleaned recently, half of the lights were broken or flickering, giving the hall a slightly menacing feeling, which did absolutely nothing to calm the unicorn’s nerves.

Fleur found herself breathing in and out deeply, trying to steady her pounding heart. She ran a hoof through her hair, making sure that it was somewhat presentable. After that, she checked to make sure that her breath wasn’t overly strong or foul.

“Fantastique,” she said with a cough, reaching up to knock on the door. Just as she was about to tap her hoof against it, however, she stopped.

Her gaze snapped to her hoof, her brow furrowing in frustration. “ Flute .”

Setting her hoof down, she tried again, this time with a little more force. Again, her hoof was just about to touch the door when she froze.

“ Frappe la porte idiote de pleutre !”

With an angry wiggle, she tried again and failed.

“Knock. On. The. Door.”

Taking a few steps back, she charged the door, hoof extended. Just as her hoof was about to touch the door, her body froze, despite her best efforts. Growling, she then tried her other hoof, then both of her hooves, then her horn, then her whole body, but none of it worked. No matter how hard she tried or what she did, she couldn’t bring herself to knock on the door. In the end, she found herself panting and red-faced from both embarrassment and shame.

“I’ll… I’ll come back tomorrow,” she said with a nod, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. “Maybe I’ll—”

The rest of the supermodel’s sentence caught in her throat as she watched the doorknob in front of her turn. There was a sharp click, and with a creak, the door began to open.

Fleur’s heart leapt to her throat. She wanted to take off down the hall, teleport away, hide in the laundry chute behind her, do everything and anything in her power not to see the person on the other end of that door, but she couldn’t move. Her body was frozen in place. She could only stand there wide-eyed as the door fully opened, revealing her photographer carrying a garbage bag.

Sam’s eyes were half-lidded and his hair was messy, as if he had just woken up from a nap. He was wearing a pair of black and gold pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt that was three sizes too big for him. Yawning hugely, the young man took a step out of his apartment before stopping. His eyes snapped down to her and he perked up.

“Oh… hey Fleur, how are you—”

“Bonjour, Sam!” Fleur said, a little too loudly. “It’s very nice to see you! You’re looking very comfortable this evening! Nice weather, isn’t it? Those pajama bottoms look wonderful on you and—”

Fleur watched as the carefully constructed apology that she had been crafting since she entered his building blew to pieces. She tried to stop herself from talking, or at the very least take a breath, but the flow of words wouldn’t be stopped. She rambled like she had never rambled before, her face getting redder and redder the deeper that she dug herself.

“—have you been well? You look well! And élégant as well—”

Sam just stood there, letting her talk. He looked thoroughly confused as he listened to her, though he made no move to close his door or brush past her.

“—I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to come see you sooner! I was just busy hid—I mean, I was thinking about a great many things while under my blank— What I mean to say is—”

Biting back a scream, Fleur eventually managed to silence herself by sticking a hoof into her mouth. Her face was cherry red, and if it weren’t for the fact that her stomach was doing backflips, she would have teleported out of the building and into her house through sheer force alone.

An unsure, awkward silence filled the hallway as the two stared at each other. Sam, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, cleared his throat.

“…Hello, Fleur.”

Fleur slowly pulled her hoof from her mouth. “…Hello, Sam.”

Sam poked his head out of his room. He looked around a bit, and seeing that the halls were empty he placed his garbage outside next to the door.

“A pony comes around and takes the trash out for us,” he explained after he saw the expression on Fleur’s face.

“Ah… interesting,” the unicorn lamely replied.

Sam’s lips twitched, and he very nearly smiled. “Hey, would you like to come in for a little while? You look like you could use a chair and something to drink.”

“I—” Fleur stopped herself, feeling the flow of words threatening to boil over once again. “I’d like that please.”