"Friendship Lessons"

“Aw, come on Mr. Atticus. Just one more box. Pleeeeeeeease?”

Ponyville market was in a state of disquiet. The usually bustling town center was deserted. Food carts were nowhere to be seen. The usual noises, the shouting, chatting, laughing, and arguing were nonexistent. Everything was unnaturally still and quiet.

Those ponies that did brave the streets did so at a brisk pace. They made sure to keep their heads down, to hug the buildings and to keep to the alleyways if they could. If they were very, very lucky they would be able to make it back to their homes whole and unmolested. If they weren’t, they’d be chased down by one of the most fearsome and determined creatures known to ponykind. Filly Scouts.

Since seven in the morning Atticus had been sitting at a small stand Sweetie Belle’s troop had set up as a base of operations. It was his job to make sure that the mountains of cookies that the girls needed to sell would be untouched by any mare or stallion not willing to pay the seven bits per box. There was, of course, no need for him to guard these cookies. No pony in town was so tight pocketed that they’d steal anything. Still, he had absolutely no desire to walk around town knocking on doors with the other tired, defeated adults, so guard he would.

Sighing to himself, he leaned back into the far too small chair that he had been provided and looked at the Filly Scout that they had left with him to watch the marketplace for any would-be customers, Sweetie Belle.

Sweetie was wearing her official Filly Scout cap, badge vest, and scarf. Her mane had been tied up in a tight ponytail. Unlike Atticus, who was doing his very best not to fall asleep where he sat, her green eyes were wide and excited. Atticus could see her squirming in her seat as she looked up at him, her lip sticking out and her hooves clasped together.

Slowly, setting his brow, he shook his head. “No.”

“Pleeeeeease, Mr. Atticus?” Sweetie said, leaning toward him. “I only need to sell two more boxes and I’ll get my entrepreneur badge!”

“No. Go and ask someone else.”

“There is no one else! Everypony’s hiding!”

“Get your sister to buy more then.”

“But Rarity said she wouldn’t buy anymore!” Sweetie whined, placing her hooves on his leg and looking up at him with big, sad eyes. “Please, Mr. Atticus?”

Atticus shook his head, a small frown coming to his face. “No.”

Sweetie’s lip quivered and her ears folded against her skull.

“No. No. I’m not buying them. And giving me that look isn’t gonna do you any favors.”

The color seemed to drain from the young filly’s face. The excitement and joy left her eyes.

Atticus looked away from her. “I’m not gonna tell you again, munchkin. No means no. So, no. No.”

He twitched when he heard a quiet sniffle. Frown deepening, he forced himself to look straight ahead. His face scrunched up when he heard another sniffle. On the third his eyes snapped back to the filly. Sweetie Belle was looking down at her vest. Her shoulder were slumped, and he could very clearly see tears in the corner of her eyes.

The human was forced to bite back a curse as he looked down at her, his eyes narrowing down to slits. He stared at her for several seconds, an eternal battle raging across his face, before he let out an explosive sigh.

“Jesus fuck… Fine, fine,” he said, covering, his face with a hand. “Give me two boxes of the sugar cookie ones.”

Sweetie’s expression did an instant one-eighty. “We don’t have anymore of the Sweet Sugar Momma’s Surprise.”

Atticus groaned. “Then give me the chocolate peanut butter ones godamn—dang it,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of bits.

Letting out a cheer and throwing up her hooves in excitement, Sweetie leapt off of her stool. Weaving through the boxes of cookies, she grabbed two red boxes and plopped them on Atticus’s lap, her tail wagging like a happy puppy.

“Here, now quit asking me to buy shi—to buy every cookie in here,” Atticus said, dropping bits into her outstretched. “Because I swear if you do it one more time I’m gonna throw you in a garbage can.”

Sweetie Belle let out a giggle. “Thanks Mr. Atticus!” she chirped.

On the other side of the road, a lone mare was making her way down the street. She kept to the ground as low as she could, hiding behind anything that she could. She had nearly made it past the tent’s line of sight when her hoof kicked a stray bottle. It was barely even a kick, more of a nudge really, but it was more than enough force to send the bottle rolling across the street.

Sweetie Bell’s ears perked up. “Mr. Atticus, look!” she said, zeroing in on the poor mare.

Head still in hand, Atticus waved the filly away. “Give ‘em Heck, you little cookie selling machine.”

With a grin, Sweetie levitated a collection of boxes into the air. She was racing out of the tent a moment later at full tilt.

“Hey Mrs. Amethyst, do you wanna buy some cookies to help our Filly Scout troop?”

A scream filled the air but Atticus ignored it, sighing again. Lifting his hand away from his face, he looked down at the cookies in his lap. With a look of disgust, he picked up the cookies and sat them next to the pile of cookies that was nearly at his shoulder height.

“Son of a bitch…”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Rarity threw open the flap to the back of the tent. “There you are, dear,” she said with smile, trotting toward him with two Styrofoam cups of coffee in tow.

She floated one of these cups over to Atticus, who took it with a grumble. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” Rarity replied, walking over and taking a seat next to him. “Since I heard screaming am I to guess that Sweetie is attempting to catch herself a customer?”

“Yeah, she took off down the street,” Atticus said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Give her a minute or two and I’ll bet she’ll come back to us with an empty wagon.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Rarity said, eyeing the stack of cookies sitting right next to him. “Sweetie can be very… persuasive when she wants to. Though I’m sure you already know that.”

Snorting, Atticus grabbed a box of cookies and tore it open. “You owe me two hundred fucking bits,” he grumbled, grabbing a handful of the tiny cookies and shoving them into his mouth. “Making me come out here just to get robbed by baby horses…”

“You didn’t have to buy a single box, dear.”

Atticus gave the unicorn a dirty look as he took another sip of his coffee. Rarity giggled, giving his leg a pat.

“Have I told you that you look absolutely fetching in that shirt?”

“No, and don’t. I’m not fetching any fucking thing, you pain in the ass.”

“…You know that wasn’t what I mean by fetching, dear.”

Atticus licked the cookie crumbs off of his lips. “Give me a few more hours to wake up and I’ll stop being so literal, Mrs. Fussypants.”

Finishing his box of cookies—his seven bit box of cookies, he couldn’t help but sourly note—he tossed the empty container to the floor. Grabbing a box of peanut butter cookies, he tore the box open. He was about to grab a handful and stuff them into his mouth when he paused.

His eyes snapped toward Rarity, who was looking at him with a crinkled nose. Looking down at himself, he saw that his lap and his brand-new shirt were covered in cookie crumbs. Setting his cup of coffee down, he quickly wiped the crumbs off himself. He then offered her the box.

“Come on, I’m not gonna be the only one that eats these shitty cookies.”

Rarity’s smile returned to her face. “I suppose I could indulge myself a bit,” she said, using a spell to levitate a cookie into the air. “Thank you very much, dear.”

Leaning down, Atticus picked up his coffee as he set the box of cookies in his lap. “Aha.”

With that the two fell into a comfortable silence. Rarity carefully nibbled her cookie, making sure that no crumbs got into her coat. Every once in awhile she would take a small sip of her coffee. Atticus, meanwhile, managed to devour the box of cookies and begin work on a third. While he did try to be less of a slob—to keep Rarity from bitching at him if nothing else—every few minutes he was forced to wipe crumbs from his lap and shirt.

In their silence, they could hear birds chirping. A few feet away the town’s fountain flowed. A ray of sunlight could be seen shining through the window of the Quill and Sofa shop. If they listened very carefully, they could have heard the Filly Scouts terrorizing the townsfolk.

Finally, Atticus could take the silence no longer. “Alright, so when is it gonna happen?”

Rarity’s ear perked up. “Pardon?” she asked, looking over at him.

“When’s the thing gonna happen?” Atticus said, popping a cookie into his mouth. “When are you gonna show me the vibrator you brought, or when are you gonna take me to some back alley and make me fuck you over some dirty garbage can, or whatever weird shit you have churning in that mind of yours.”

The unicorn’s nose scrunched up. “If you think that I’d ever let my pristine fur touch a dirty garbage can you must be out of your mind, dear,” she said, giving his belly a poke. “And I’ll have you know that I have no such intentions with you today.”

“Bullshit,” Atticus said, tossing another empty container to the floor.

“It’s the truth,” Rarity insisted. “And I’d very much appreciate it if you would keep your language in check. I don’t want my sister picking up your foul mouth.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing my best not to swear around that little walking money vacuum,” he replied, giving her nose a boop. “And don’t you change the subject. What other reason would you want me to sit with you for eight hours?”

“As fun as it is to leave you a sweating, breathless mess, sex isn’t the only thing we can do together, dear,” Rarity said, looking away from him. “Since my parents were out of town and Sweetie needed somepony to watch her while she sold her cookies, I thought that having you as company would be… nice.”

Atticus’s eyes narrowed. He waited for a smirk, or a deviant look in the unicorn’s eye. He waited her horn to spark to life and teleport some sort of sex toy or start to undo his pants. He even waited for a teasing flick of her tail, or Rarity spreading her legs just wide enough to tease him. But, to his surprise, he saw none of that.

“…You’re really not going to try anything?” he asked.

“Not today, dear. Especially not with my sister running around,” Rarity replied with a toss of her mane. “You’ll just have to wait with baited breath the next time I wish to make your day.”

“Yeah, make my day,” Atticus said, leaning back into his chair. “That’s what I’d call molesting me with ponies all around.”

“Oh really?”

“No. I didn’t enjoy a second of that,” Atticus said with a shake of his head. “I’m not you. I don’t get my rocks off cumming in public.”

“Are you sure about that, darling?” Rarity asked, grabbing his arm and pressing it against her chest as she pressed her side against his. “Because the mess you made on the Cakes’ floor seemed to say otherwise~”

“That was that stuff you poured onto my junk that did that,” Atticus said, looking down at her as he took another sip of his coffee. “If I hadn’t been so sensitive you wouldn’t have even gotten me hard.”

“You think far too little of me, dear. Given enough time I’m sure I could have made that stallionhood of yours hard enough to break stone.”

“You think so, marshmallow?”

“Oh I know so,” Rarity said with a toss of her mane. “In fact, I’m fairly confident that I could leave you nothing more than a shimmering mess with just a few words.”

Atticus frowned, his brow furrowed at the boast. “I bet you I could leave your big white ass so red in the face ponies would think you were Big Mac.”

“Oh really?” Rarity asked, smiling up at him as she gave his side a nuzzle. “And how would you intend to do that, my dear?”

The two stared at each other for several seconds. Atticus’s lips tightened into a thin line. He let up a hum, looking Rarity up and down before grabbing her hoof.

Rarity’s smile diminished as a look of confusion came to her face. “Atticus? What in Celestia’s name are you doing?”

“I’m holding your hoof,” he replied.

“I can see that, but why are you doing it.”

“Because if Sweetie walks back into the tent she’s gonna see us holding hands, and you know how much of a blabbermouth she is.”

It took a few moments, but the possible ramifications of her little sister seeing such a thing came to Rarity’s mind. Sitting in Atticus’s lap was one thing, but holding his hand was another thing entirely. Handholding meant some kind of relationship that was more than friendly.

Rarity twitched as she felt the human’s thumb drawing circles across the frog of her hoof. She looked down at her hoof, mind racing. She knew that if even one of the Filly Scout’s mothers heard about it half the town would know by sun down. By the end of the week she’d be up to her ears in rumors and speculation.

In an instant a bit of pink began to color her cheeks. “W-Well then,” she said, coughing into her free hoof. “As much as I’d like to play this little game perhaps w-we should—”

Her words died in her throat as she looked up at Atticus. While the human was doing his very best to look steadfast and grim, she could see something on his face. She might have been seeing things, it might have been an odd trick of the light, but she swore she could see the beginnings of a blush. Eyes narrowing, her nostrils flared, smelling for fear like a shark smelled for blood.

“You know what, dear? A bit of hoofholding sounds wonderful,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

She looked carefully at his face to see that she just hadn’t been seeing things. There was clearly a blush on Atticus’s face now. She grinned, even as her own face became redder.

“Are you sure? You’re looking a bit red under the gills,” Atticus said.

“I’m just a little flushed from the cold, darling, as I’m sure you are as well.”

“It’s not that cold.”

“Oh? Then why are you blushing, hmm? Perhaps the big, strong, nasty human likes holding hooves with yours truly?”

Atticus’s brow furrowed. “You look very pretty this morning, Rare.”

“That’s very—Oh?” Rarity’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected compliment. “Well thank you very much, it’s nice of you to say so.”

“It’s the truth,” Atticus said. “Pretty much everyone else came here looking like shit but you took the time to get ready, even if no one would appreciate it. And it shows.”

Rarity’s face grew warmer. A silly smile came to her face as she fanned herself with a hoof. She was about to thank him again, when she realized just what he was trying to do.

The compliments weren’t just compliments; Atticus was trying to leave her flustered to prove that he was right!

“Most stallions wouldn’t have come here to watch my little sister, but not only are you here but you’ve gone out of you way to help my sister get that little merit badge of hers,” she said, drawing herself up. “Not only does that prove that underneath all of that gruff and unsophistication is a true gentlecolt. One that is wonderful with foals.”

Atticus’s blush deepened. “Well, you’re here to when you don’t need to be.”

“She’s my sister.”

“So? You still got up way too early to help her with this stupid thing. I know if I had siblings I’d tell them to shove it if they tried to ask me to do something like this.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but I feel as if that is a lie.”

The two glared at each other. With a huff, Rarity climbed into his lap. Atticus, not one to back down, held her hoof even tighter.

“You let me live out one of my dreams when you let me ride you the other day,” he growled. “I’ll never be able to tell you just how much it meant to me.”

“When I see you wearing something I made you I feel as satisfied as I’ve ever been,” Rarity said, smacking her tail against his leg. “I love the idea my designs not only providing you comfort, but keeping you safe from the elements. I’d wish you’d let me fill your wardrobe with my clothes so I can show the world just how handsome you truly are.”

Atticus bared his teeth. “Whenever we do shit together I have to resist the urge to pick you up and sit you in my lap. I love the smell of your perfume and how your body feels against mine.”

Rarity pressed her forehead against his. “Whenever you leave me for the day I wish you’d stay for a few moments more,” she said, her voice softening. “Though you may be the biggest brute that I think I’ve ever met, I’d like to learn more about you, your family, your likes and dislikes.”

“You’ve made these last couple weeks go by faster, “Atticus said, all guff leaving his voice with each word said. “I like to hear that stupid fake accent of yours, and I’d actually like some more clothes because I think you actually do really good work. I also think that you’re one of the most beautiful mares in this town, maybe one of the most beautiful that I’ve seen since I was dumped in this tooty-fruity world.”

Both Rarity and Atticus, both as red as tomatoes, looked each other in the eyes. Rarity pressed her weight against Atticus. Atticus wrapping his arms around the mare, just above her hips. Both attempted to say more, opening their mouths and taking breaths, but no matter how hard they tried their mouths would close.

Attius’s eyes snapped toward the mare’s lips. Rarity shifted her weight in his lap, pulling his hand against her chest. Then, gazing up at him with those perfect blue eyes of hers, she leaned upward. Atticus, without a second though, leaned down to meet her in the middle. Their lips parted and their eyes slipped shut.

“Mr. Atticus and Rarity, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

Both the human and unicorn froze. Their eyes snapped open and, whipping their heads around, they saw a grinning Sweetie Belle standing at the back of the tent.

Atticus let out a sigh. “Shit.”