Button Mash vs. the World

Twist watched the group with wide eyes. Musical notes flashed around her head, dancing through her skull and rattling her brain as her jaw slowly fell open. Beside her, Featherweight snacked on a box of potato chips.

With a window-shaking crash, the band hit the final note. Babs was breathing heavily, her bangs covering her face. Sweat poured down Applebloom’s face, and she lifted a drumstick to wipe it away. Button took a deep breath before looking up expectantly, his face glowing.

"So?" he asked, grinning. "What'd you think?"

Twist's mouth worked, but no sound came out. Finally,

"That...was awesome," she whispered.

Her eyes rolled up into her head and she fainted.

"Hah! I win again!"

Twist pouted. "Aw—no fair! You're always better at these fighting games than me!"

Hah!" Button narrowed his eyes, grinning at the screen. "I was born to play these games!"

All around them, the lights and sounds of the Ponyville Arcade flashed in the dim light. On the other side of the room, two colts were playing—and failing—Beat Beat Revelation on Expert mode, and two stalls down, a filly and her sister were arguing over the best way to kill zombies in Discord’s Uprising: III.

Twist giggled, her red curls bouncing over her shoulders. Button’s eyes were still fixed on the screen, so he missed the small pegasus colt trotting up behind them. "You sure seem like it."

"Hey,” the colt coughed behind them. “Can I pla—"

“Hey!” Button whirled around, scowling. “Can't you see that we're playing video games here? This is serious business! An arcade is no place for kids!"

“But—”

“Shoo!” Button said. “Go—I dunno, eat a pacifier or something!”

The colt stared at them, stuck out his tongue, and then stomped on Button’s hoof. Hard.

“Filthy...casual…” Button whimpered as the colt blew him a raspberry. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

"But," Twist mumbled, watching the colt skulking away as Button leapt up and down, struggling not to cry. "Aren't video games meant for little foals?"

"Hah!" Button said between gasps of pain. "I don't...have any idea...where you could've gotten that idea."

He took a deep breath, waiting for the throbbing to settle down, before giving her a little nudge. "Got any more quarters?"

Continue? the screen asked in big, bold letters. Atop the word lay a countdown and the picture of a laughing skull. The countdown was already down to nine seconds.

Twist's eyes widened. "Oh! One second!" She dove beneath the machine, letting the jangling of coins ring through the arcade as she rifled through her bag of change.

Eight. Seven.

"Come on, come on!" Button said. He pounded his hooves on the top of the display. "We don't have much time!"

Six. Five Four.

"Almost there!" Twist grunted. One silvery circle toppled from her bag and went rolling on the floor. "Dangit!"

Three. Two. O—

"Got it!"

The coin fell into the slot with a thunderous ka-chink. Instantly, the screen blazed back to life, a character select screen appearing above the controls.

"Woohoo!" Button cheered. "You ready to lose?"

"Bring it on!" she sneered. Her character select button hovered over one icon in particular. "I think I'll be the ninja this round."

"I shot the magician! He's all mine!"

Three…

Two…

One…

FIGHT!

"Order up!"

"Oh, boy!" Twist licked her lips as she looked over the two milkshakes sitting on the counter. Her stomach rumbled, and she could feel her sweet tooth calling out to her. She slowly reached out…

"Milkshake race!"

She blinked as the other milkshake vanished in a blur of light. "Wha—"

"One, two, three, go!"

She stared as Button thrust his head toward the straw. Her jaw dropped as he slurped madly, making sure to get every last drop of vanilla-y goodness into his throat. Across the counter, Pumpkin Cake—who had the afternoon shift at Sugarcube Corner on weekends—glared at him.

When Button was done, there was, somehow, a big white moustache over his mouth. "Ah," he sighed, patting his stomach. "That really hit the spot."

"Wow," Twist said, wide-eyed. "How did you do that?"

He winked at her. "Years of practice, Twist. Maybe someday, you, too will have mastered the Way of the Milkshake as I ha—."

He twitched.

"Brain freeze?" Twist asked innocently.

"Ack—no," he coughed, offering her a weak grin. "So, are you gonna have yours or what?"

"Same time on Friday?"

Button stopped midway down the steps toward the curb from Twist's house, which was shaped like a giant, upside-down lollipop, with plastic mints and candies decorating the front lawn. He turned back to glance over his shoulder. "Sure!” he said. “I'll come 'round then. We can go to the movies!"

Twist gasped from her place at the door, her hooves flying to her mouth. "Isn't Friday when the new Harmony Rangers movie comes out?"

Button pretended to think on that for a moment before shooting her a wide grin. "Yup!"

“I can’t wait!”

Button waved as he turned to go. "I'll see you then!" he hollered, trotting down the sidewalk.

As he faded into the distance, Twists slowly slid down the doorframe, her eyes drifting lazily beneath her thick, horn-rimmed glasses.

“He’s so...dreamy…”

"I'm home!" Button announced. The door slammed behind him.

"Good to see you, sweetie,” droned a low-pitched, noticeably male voice from the next room. “Did you pick up the milk and eggs I asked for?"

Button nearly jumped at the voice. "Ack! Pipsqueak! Who let you in here?"

Pip glanced over the top of the couch, toward the front door. He was lounging on the cushions, this week's magazine of Canterlot Models held loosely in his hooves. "Your mother," he said crisply, his accent drawling out through the air. "She was quite happy to supply me with some of her baking when I told her how I hadn't eaten since breakfast."

"But—agh!" Button's jaw dropped. "Those cookies were for me!"

"Really?" Pipsqueak murmured, inspecting a hoof. "Shame. I'll have to ask her for more when she gets back. She's quite the lovely mare, your mother."

Button smacked his forehead. "Okay, we are so not getting into this again."

"Are we?"

"No!" He took a deep breath and counted to five, doing his best to avoid tackling Pip right then and there. Slowly and deliberately, he slipped the jacket off of his back and onto the hat rack. "Celestia; is it too much to ask for a little peace and quiet around my own house?"

"Speaking of peace and quiet," Pipsqueak said, flipping a page in his magazine, "how was your playdate?"

"Playdate?" Button chuckled, shaking his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"With your friend. Twist, right?"

Button scowled. "You mean my girlfriend? The one I'm currently dating?

Pipsqueak snorted. "Please. Button, really—have you even gotten to first base with her yet? Kissed her? She let you touch her Cutie Mark yet?"

"We've...held hooves a few times," Button muttered.

Pipsqueak sighed. He swung his back hooves off of the couch and onto the floor. "Button," he said seriously. "I'm your best friend—"

"So you keep telling me," Button muttered.

"—and so it's my responsibility to tell you when I think you're making a mistake." Pipsqueak shook his head, tutting quietly. "Really, now. Twist is a sweet filly, but she wouldn't know the first thing about dating. Neither would you, come to think of it."

He raised an eyebrow, frowning. "I do hope you're not taking advantage of her. Tell me you're not using her for...you know."

Button blinked. "What?"

"Oh, you know."

"Know what?"

Pipsqueak stared at him. "...You really don't know, do you?" he asked. "You actually don't know."

"Nuh-uh!" Button yelped, jerking his head back and forth. "I totally know!"

"Know what?"

He swallowed. "Uh..."

Pipsqueak gave a long, suffering sigh. "Using her for you-know-what," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "That."

It took a moment for realization to dawn on Button's eyes. His jaw fell open. "What? No!" His cheeks turned a sickly shade of pink, and he shook his hooves rapidly in the air. "I'd never do that to her!"

"Good." Pipsqueak turned back to his magazine. "Quite good. Especially when there are much better options—older, actually attractive mares, for one thing." He turned a page, his eyebrows rising up at what was presumably a very interesting article. "Like your mother, perhaps."

"Can you just stop, for like, five seco—"

"Nope."

Button groaned.

The doorbell rang.

Pipsqueak instantly perked up. "Oh? Maybe that's her. Back from shopping, perhaps?"

Button shook his head, frowning. "Nah. She'd just use her key. It must be somepony else."

"Then don't just hang about standing there, mate,” Pipsqueak said, frowning. “Go take a look!"

Button trotted over and undid the lock. “I bet it’s just the mailmare again or something,” he muttered, the doorknob turning beneath his hoof. “Probably forgot a package agai—”

“Hi!”

He froze.

For the first time in eight years, a white, heart-shaped face surrounded by purple-pink curls beamed back at him.

Button licked his lips. “Um—”

Sweetie Belle offered a little wave. “How’ve you been?”

Button fainted.