"Friendship Lessons"

“Here you go dearies. Two stacks of pancakes, one with a side of fruit and the other with hash browns.”

Though Mrs. Cake had her usual motherly smile on her face as she sat the two plates onto the table, it seemed somewhat strained. There was a very real worry in the aging mare’s eyes as she looked between Atticus and Rarity. Mr. Cake was also eyeing their table with the same look of worry, keeping his broom somewhat close even as he served customers behind the counter. And they weren’t the only ones.

Every single mare and stallion in Sugarcube Corner was staring at the two. Some were attempting to be discrete about it, sneaking a glance every once in awhile when they thought they wouldn’t be caught, while other ponies were unabashedly staring with wide eyes and opened mouths.

A silent fear had washed over the usually carefree and lively establishment. Their table was given a very wide berth, as if every pony in the store expected there to be an explosion of violence. Mothers held their foals close, stallions readied themselves to jump into the fray so as to keep property damage to a minimum. Atticus and Rarity, meanwhile, barely seemed to even register any of it.

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Cake,” Rarity said with a slightly nod of the head, her eyes glued to the sketch pad in front of her.

“Thanks a bunch, Mrs. Cake,” Atticus said with a yawn, pulling his plate closer toward him.

Mrs. Cake sucked a lungful of air through her teeth when he reached over to grab a fork and a knife. Her body stiffened, and she looked as if she were ready to leap out of the way, but Atticus just sat the utensils on either side of his plate before grabbing a napkin and tucking it into his shirt.

She let out a sigh, desperately trying to keep the smile on her face. “W-Well, I hope you two enjoy the food.”

“It looks great, Mrs. Cake,” Atticus said, reaching for the butter.

“Yes, I’m sure it’ll be positively wonderful,” Rarity said, pushing her red-rimmed glasses up her muzzle.

Mrs. Cake nodded, shifting back and forth in place. “Alright, I’ll leave you two to it then,” she said.

Both Rarity and Atticus nodded, one nodding and the other erasing a scribble in her sketchbook.

Mrs. Cake was about to turn around but stopped. Biting her lip, she looked back at the two. “Dears… I…”

Reaching across the table, Atticus grabbed the jar of maple syrup. “Don’t worry Mrs. Cake, we’ll be good,” he told the mare.

“Atticus, you know it’s much more polite to ask for somepony to pass you things instead of reaching like that,” Rarity said, not taking her eyes off her sketchbook.

“Eh,” he replied, upturning the pot and pouring a healthy amount of syrup into his pancakes.

Mrs. Cake looked between the two as she ran a hoof through her mane. “I’ll hold you two to that. I don’t need you two making this store an even bigger mess,” she said, doing her best to sound jovial but only ending up sounding exasperated.

“Worry you not, Mrs. Cake. We shall be nothing less than paragons of virtue,” Rarity said, helping herself to a sip of orange juice.

The older mare nodded, turning away. For a moment she stopped, turning back and opening her mouth to say something, but at the last moment she decided against it. Giving her head a shake, she made her way across the room where a tableful of customers were waiting to have their orders taken.

Both the unicorn and human immediately forgot about the worried mare. Atticus took a sip of his apple juice, picking up his knife and fork. Cutting his pancakes into large slices, he stabbed one of the slices, dunked it into the syrup covering the edges of his plate, and popped it into his mouth.

Chewing with a happy hum, he looked over at Rarity. “Aresh yous gonna eats orsh what?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, dear,” Rarity said, letting out a hum of her own as she tapped her pencil against her cheek. “And I’ll help myself as soon as I’m finished.”

Swallowing his mouthful of food, Atticus wiped his face with his napkin. “What are you even working on anyway?” he asked.

“Hopefully my fall lineup,” she replied, the tip of her pencil flying across her sketchbook in broad, confident strokes. “It seems that our… fun this morning has put me in a rather creative mood.” Her nose scrunched up for a moment before she shook her head. “No, no. Those will clash with the frills…”

Atticus helped himself to another forkful of food. While the urge to tell the mare that having a “lineup” for clothes was the dumbest thing in the world—you should be able to wear clothes whenever the hell you felt like it—this urge wasn’t as strong as it should have been. In fact, he honestly had no desire to act upon it as he reached for a hash brown.

“Well… you have fun with that I guess,” he said.

A small smile came to Rarity’s face. “Oh, I shall.”

From somewhere in the room, a very loud, very surprised gasp could be heard. That was the only warning the two were given before a pink blur launched itself at the table.

Most people would have ducked in cover, or at the very least flinched, but Rarity and Atticus were hard-bitten veterans. As the blur descended upon them, they calmly pulled their plates and drinks back to a safe distance. The tip of Rarity’s horn glowed, casting a minor shielding spell around her mane, while Atticus held very still.

The blur connected with the human, using his shoulders to launch itself up into the air. It performed a few aerial feats that would have left the Wonderbolts gobsmacked with a happy ‘Eeeeeh!” before landing right on their table.

“Rarity! Atty!” Pinkie cried, pulling a can of whip cream out of her mane and pouring half of the can’s contents on top of Atticus’s pancakes. “Why are you two sitting together?! Did Twilight put some friendship spell on you? Are the poince making you sit together?” She gasped dramatically. “Are Twilight and the poince working together in some friendship conspiracy?!”

“Good morning to you too, Pinkie dear,” Rarity said, flipping to a new page of her sketchbook. “And to answer your questions, Twilight hasn’t cast any spells on us—”

“As far as we know,” Atticus interrupted, scooping the majority of the whipped cream off of his pancakes.

“Hush Atticus, you know as well as I that Twilight would never do such a thing.”

“We’re talking about the Twilight that tried to brainwash Discord that one time, right?”

“Hush,” the unicorn said, giving his leg a light kick as she turned her attention back toward Pinkie. “Now, as I was saying, no, Twilight hasn’t cast a spell on either of us. The poince have no hoof in the two of us sitting together and as far as I know there’s no friendship conspiracies happening. Now, if you could be a dear and sit in a chair like a sensible pony I’d be very appreciative.”

Eyes narrowing, Pinkie looked over at Atticus. “Atty, is there anything fishy going on here?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “Is somepony threatening you with boops? Did some meanie unicorn cast some hocus pocus on you?”

“I don’t think so, Pank,” Atticus replied, biting into a hash brown. “I’m pretty sure I’m hocus pocus free, and you know how I feel about being threatened with boops.”

Pinkie’s eyes narrowed down to slits. Humming to herself, she quickly climbed down from the table, grabbing herself a chair with her tail and taking a seat.

“So what’s the hubbub then?” she asked, leaning over toward Atticus’s plate so she could take a big lick of the whipped creamed that he had scraped off. “I haven’t seen the two of you sit together in… well, ever!”

“After the other day’s… events, Atticus and I decided to sit down and chat,” Rarity said, looking at the human from the top of her sketchbook. “We both realized that our little feud has been far more harmful than we ever thought, so we’ve begun to take steps to improve our relationship.”

For a moment, the hyperactive party pony sat very still. “…Really?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Atticus nodded. “Yeah. Twilight told us how shitty we were being to you and a lot of ponies in this town so we’re gonna try to patch things up between us.”

“It’ll take some work, but I believe with a little effort and determination on both of our parts the two of us will be best friends in no time!” Rarity said, flashing Pinkie a winning smile.

The look that came to Pinkie’s face nearly knocked Atticus to the floor. Even Rarity, who had known Pinkie for most of her life, felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of it.

Disbelief. Excitement. Joy. They could see all of these emotions and something more. This something lit up the mare’s eyes, it made her smile all the more brighter and wonderful. If the two didn’t know any better, they would have even said that she was glowing.

“OhmygoshIcan’tbelieveit!” Pinkie cried, leaping out of her chair and tackling Atticus in a bone crushing hug. “IthoughtthetwoofyouhatedeachotherandIwasreallysadbutherethetwoofyouaresittingtogether!”

Atticus let out a pained whine as his spine popped in several places. “Ponk… gotta… breath…”

Pinkie didn’t seem to hear him, letting out a squeal and nuzzling the nape of his neck. Rarity grimaced, setting down her sketch book.

“Pinkie, as happy Atticus and I are that you’re excited, perhaps you could—”

As quick as a flash, Pinkie let go of Atticus, kicking off the now wheezing human’s stomach, doing a flip in the air, and landing right in Rarity’s lap. Before the unicorn could so much as blink, she was pulled into a hug of her own. Her eyes bugged out of her skull from the force of it She looked over at Atticus, hoping that he’d get up and help her, but he was still trying to get the air back in his lungs himself.

“OhI’mgonnathrowthebiggestpartyforthetwoofyou!There’sgonnavecakeandicecreamandalotofballoonsandmaybeevenastripperifwe’rereallyreallylucky—”

Rarity tapped the mare’s sides, trying to get her attention, but Pinkie didn’t pay her any mind, excitedly chatting away at a million miles an hour. She let out a weak gurgle, the edges of her vision turning dark.

“Pinkie dear? Could you please come back into the kitchen? We need five more orders of pancakes!” Mr. Cake called.

Pinkie’s ears perked up. “Alright, Mr. Cake! I’ll be over in a second!” she called.

Letting go of Rarity—much to the mare’s relief—she gave her a nuzzle. “Alrighty! Ol’ Pinkie’s gonna get back to work. Bye-bye you two!”

Leaping out of Rarity’s lap and into Atticus’s, she gave him a nuzzle before hopping off and making her way toward the kitchen. The two watched her go warily, ready to leap out of the way if she decided to finish what she had started.

“She’s gonna kill someone someday if she keeps hugging people like that,” Atticus said, letting out a grunt as he cracked his neck.

“Pinkie really does forget herself sometimes, doesn’t she?” Rarity said. “Still, I’m glad that she was so happy.”

Though the two were trying to work out the kinks, aches, and pains that only a Pinkie hug could provide, there were smiles on both of their faces.

“Yeah… me too,” Atticus said, leaning back into his chair. “It almost makes up for the fact that I had to go down on that nasty cunt of ours.”

Rarity snorted, picking up her knife and fork. She was about to cut into her pancakes, only to notice that Pinkie had somehow managed to cut them into neat little squares without her noticing.

“Please. I’m surprised that you weren’t begging to have a taste of my honey before we left your wretched house,” she replied, stabbing one of the squares and popping it into her mouth.

“Honey? More like sewer water.”

“The best sewer water I’m sure you’ve ever had in your entire life, you miserable cretin.”

Atticus smiled. “I guess I’ve had worse. Cunt.”

Though Rarity did her best to look annoyed, a smile still wormed its way onto her face. “And I suppose I’ve tasted worse than what was dripping from that pitiful organ between your legs.”

The two let out sighs. A comfortable silence settled over them as they both focused on their meals. Forks scraped against the bottom of plates, juice was drank, and hash browns and hay bacon was devoured.

“So… am I free to go do my own stuff today or are you dragging me back to my house for some more “therapy”?” Atticus asked as he finished the last of his pancakes.

“Eager to spend more time with yours truly?” Rarity asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Nah, I just don’t want to find you grinding your ass against my front door because you wanna get off,” he replied.

Still smiling, Rarity kicked his shin. “You truly have a way with words, dear,” she said. “It’s a wonder mares aren’t stepping over themselves to get to you. But your rudeness aside, I would appreciate it if you came with me to my boutique for an hour or so to help me with something.”

Finishing his hash browns, he pushed his plate away. “What for?”

“I would very much like your help with something,” she replied, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “While I’m sure I could do the task myself, it would go so much easier if someone of your statue was there.”

Atticus milled over the request. As much as he might have liked to go home and partake in his favorite activity—laying around doing nothing—he really didn’t see anything wrong with helping her for a little bit. All she probably wanted was him to carry some things around her stupid, tacky house.

“Yeah, I guess I could take the time out of my busy schedule,” he said, finishing the last of his orange juice.

Rarity smiled. “Excellent!” she said, producing a bag of bits and setting some money down onto the table before standing up. “Let us be off then. We have much to do.”

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The walk toward Rarity’s home was largely uneventful. The townsponies continued to nervously stare at them, and there was whispering abound, but they were able to make it to Rarity’s front door without a hitch.

“Remember to take your shoes off before you come inside, dear,” Rarity said, wiping her hooves on her welcome mat before opening her front door.

Atticus rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, bending down so that he could untie his shoes.

Rarity, looking over her shoulder, took a half-step back, bumping her flank against his face. He looked up at her, brow furrowed. Rearing back a hand, he gave her rump a smack. She giggled as his hand connected, tickling the tip of his nose with her tail before making her way inside.

He just shook his head. “Yeah, help,” he said to himself, untying one shoe then the other. “I’m sure I’m gonna be doing a lot of helping…”

Still, he found himself standing back up and making his way inside. Closing the door behind him, he looked around to see that Rarity was nowhere to be seen.

“Rare? Where the heck did you get off to?”

“I’m in here, darling,” Rarity called from the room filled with half-finished pieces of clothing.

Giving himself a once over, and dusting his pants off when he saw that he had a bit of dirt on them, he made his way into the room. Again Rarity was nowhere to be found, much to his irritation.

“Rarity?” he called, looking around. “Rarity? I’m not gonna play fucking hide and seek with—”

Before he could finish his sentence, something connected with his backside. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it did cause him to stumble forward a few paces. Letting out a surprised grunt, he grabbed for the lone chair in the room to keep himself from falling over. Grabbing it, he then looked over his shoulder to see what the heck had hit him. He could see something white out of the corner of his eye, but before he could turn to look at it he felt a handcuff clicking in place over his left hand and the side of the chair.

“What the—”

An invisible force gave him a nudge, forcing him to sit down. His head snapped to the side to see a grinning Rarity staring back at him.

He stared at her for several seconds, disbelief and outrage battling for dominance inside of him. “...What the fuck are you doing?”

Rarity let out a giggle that was bordering on the maniacal. “Something that should have been done ages ago,” she said. “Now hold still dear. This will only take longer if you struggle.”

Baring his teeth, Atticus was just about to hop to his feet and start beating the unicorn with the flimsy chair he was sitting on, when the top of her horn glowed. There was a pop, and he found himself without a shirt.

“Now,” Rarity said, levitating a measuring tape over as she set her sketchbook down onto a cluttered table. “Let us begin~”

With an excited giggle, she trotted over to him. Lifting his free arm, she measured it, then his other arm. Looking downright pleased with herself as she wrote down the measurements onto a little notebook that she had gotten from somewhere, she started to measure his chest.

Atticus just looked down at her in bemusement. “Did you seriously make me come all the way over here so you could just take my measurements?” he asked.

“Of course!” Rarity said with a nod. “While you might see no problem wearing those hole-riddled, dirty crimes against fashion that you call shirts I cannot abide seeing them any longer. So, I’m going to make you some new ones.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my shirts.”

“Darling, there’s so many things wrong with them that if I took the time to list every one we’d be here for the better part of the day.”

Atticus’s brow furrowed. “You know that I could get up right now and hogtie you with that measuring tape of yours, right?”

“Tempting a lady will get you nowhere, dear,” Rarity said, writing more numbers down in her notebook. “Now what would you prefer your shirts to be made out of, cotton or silk?”

“What about pony pelt? If you got pain in the ass unicorn white I’d take that.”

Rolling her eyes, Rarity gave his stomach a poke. “Cotton it is then,” she said, taking a few more measurements before teleporting the measure tape away with a spell. “Give me a few moments and I’ll bring out a few rolls of cloth that you may pick from.”

With a happy little wiggle, she trotted over toward a small door near the back of the room. Atticus watched her go, feeling a headache coming on even as she opened the door and walked through it

Looking down at the handcuff securing his arm, he saw that it was a pair of bright pink ones. They seemed to be of much lower quality than the ones the two of them had used last night. A quick tug told him that they were made out of plastic instead of metal. With one hard tug he could snap the cuffs chains and make his merry way home. Frowning, he pulled against the cuffs, though he made no real effort to break them.

“You know I’m going to bust your ass for pulling this shit, right?” he called.

“Oh I promise that I’ll make this worth your while, dear,” Rarity replied, rummaging around in her little backroom. “Though you should be honored that I would even take the time out of my busy schedule to make something for you.”

Though she wasn’t in the room, Atticus reflexively gave her the finger. “I have plenty of shirts lying around my house that I don’t wear.”

“Be that as it may, you shan’t be a problem with the shirts I make you because you’ll be so dazzled that you won’t help but wear them every chance you get.”

He snorted, leaning back into the chair. “Just hurry up and get your shit.”

“Language~!”

A minute or so passed before Rarity exited from the backroom. There was a noticeable pep in her step as she made her way toward him. Behind her, floating in her blue magical aura, was all manner of cloth, needles, scissors, pins, and thread.

“Here we are,” Rarity said, levitating over a small wooden table and putting everything but the bundles of cloth onto it. “I’ve selected a few colors that I thought you might like, but if you’d like something else I’m sure I have just the thing!”

With a bright, broad smile she levitated every bundle of cloth over to him to inspect. He looked at each one, resisting the urge to snap the handcuffs and make for the door.

“If you really want to make me a couple shirts just plain black will be fine,” he said.

The smile on Rarity’s face diminished somewhat. “Just black?” she said, shifting her weight. “Well, I suppose I could do that… but why not diversify your color scheme a bit, darling?” Giving her mane a toss, she took a few steps closer to him. “Black is a good color for what it is, but there’s so much more you could do. After all, one’s body is a canvas; if you wish to wear something you should wear something with flare, something that will catch the eye and tease the imagination. Some nice stitching with the black, or perhaps add a contrasting color or two… If you really wish to make a statement you should—”

Realizing that she was rambling, Rarity stopped herself mid sentence. She toyed with her mane, her blue eyes scanning the bundles of cloth for a moment before her gaze settled back on him.

“…But, you are the customer here, so whatever you want me to make I’ll happily do. Though, if you’d be willing, I’d happily put in my two bits design wise,” she said, giving him a glance that was nothing less than pleading.

A few days ago Atticus would have told her to make him a batch of plain, boring black shirts. Hell, a couple days ago he would have broken the handcuffs, picked up the chair he was sitting on, and broken it over the unicorn’s head for cuffing him to the thing.

Now though? Now he just wanted her to stop looking at him like that.

“I’m not a customer,” he said, looking away from her. “I’m not paying a cent for any of this… so, do what you want I guess.”

Rarity perked up. “Are you sure dear? If you really want just black I would be happy to—”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Atticus interrupted, covering his face with a hand. “Just get rid of these stupid handcuffs and do whatever you want to do.”

He heard Rarity let out a squeal. A second later he found himself letting out a grunt as the mare hopped into his lap and wrapped her hooves around his neck in a hug.

“Oh, you have no idea how happy that makes me, Atticus darling!” she said, rubbing her cheek against his. “I have so many absolutely wonderful ideas! Striking colors, stitch work to leave one breathless, I may even see about adding a few gems!”

The unicorn squirmed in his lap, looking absolutely elated.

“Ponies from all over Equestria are going to marvel at the mere sight of you! And you’ll be able to walk around as if you were a prince! And… and…”

Slowly, she looked up at Atticus, trailing off when she saw the small, teasing smile on his face. She quickly looked away, though not quick enough so that Atticus didn’t see the blood rushing to her face.

She coughed into her hoof. “Forgive me, dear, it’s just that I’m a mare that enjoys a fashion challenge and you’re a challenge like none other.”

Chuckling, Atticus wrapped his arms around the mare. “Thank goodness we’re just doing shirts. Any more and you’d be bouncing off the walls.”

Huffing, she gave his arm a slap. “It’s very rude to tease a lady, Atticus,” she said, clear disapproval in her voice.

“I don’t see any ladies here, Rare,” he shot back, giving her belly a poke.

“Then you must be as blind as you are moronic.”

“Sticks and stones, slut.”

Rarity looked down at the floor as she pressed her back against his chest. “Atticus? Thank you very much for letting me do this.”

“Eh, it’s not that big of a deal,” he replied with a shrug.

“Even so, thank you. And know that I’ll do my best to… repay you for your kindness,” Rarity said, grinding herself against him.

“I can’t wait,” Atticus said, trying to sound sarcastic but not quite managing it.

Rarity let out a giggle as she turned her attention toward the bundles of cloth. As she did that, something caught Atticus’s attention. Sitting at the other end of the room was a mannequin. While there must have been two dozen of the exact same models all around the room this one stood out because of the saddle on its back.

Eyes narrowing, he leaned toward the mannequin, trying to get a better look at it. His mind, which had been busy just admiring how soft and warm the pain in the ass in his arms was, began to churn. Thoughts were had, ideas began to form, and, as Rarity was blabbering on about something or another, something came to him.

“…Hey Rare, stupid question, but do you have any bridles lying around your shop?”

Rarity’s breathing hitched and, though he didn’t notice it, she very nearly dropped everything held in the air with her magic. The blush on her face, which had all but disappeared at this point, came back in full force.

“I-I may have one or two lying around from some of my… risqué orders,” she said, looking up at him with wide eyes. “But why in Equestria are you thinking about b-bridles?”

Atticus looked down at the mare, doing a bit of math in his head. Though she might have been a three foot high pony, he knew for a fact that Equestrians were a hell of a lot stronger than they looked. While a unicorn would never be as strong as an earth pony, they would no doubt be strong enough for what he had in mind.

A smile that sent a chill down Rarity’s spine came to the human’s face. “I think I know how you can make this shirt thing up to me.”