Coltcuddling for Dummies

Coltcuddling for Dummies
A Beginner's Guide to Romance

Chapter Two

   "AAAAAAAAAAAAAA-HA-HA-HAAAAAAA!!! MY TOOPH! My bootiful... MY WONDERFUL TOOOPH! I'M RUIIIIIIII-HIII-HII-HIIIINNNNED! AAAAAA-HA-HAAAAA-HAAA!!!"

There were two doors and a hallway between the exam room and the waiting area. The sound penetration was downright impressive, and due to her missing tooth, every time Rarity tried to pronounce an "S" it came out as an ear-popping whistle. Dr. White barred his teeth, raking a hoof through his mane in agony.

"What in the blasted blazing baffnaps is that pony's problem!? Gumdrop! Please get that patient in here!"

Gumdrop glanced down at her work sheet before quirking an eyebrow with a concerned expression. She'd been a nurse at a mental ward before this, so her ears were more accustomed to prolonged assault. Or perhaps slightly deafened. "But, sir! You still have another appointment before—"

"—I don't care! that mare has been screaming so much I had to give my last patient anesthesia for a gum exam! A gum exam!"

"I LOOK LIKE A SSSSSSSSLOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOB!! AAAAAAAAA-HAAA-HAAA-HAAAAAAA!!"

Dr. White's expression got a little more desperate, but he did his best to wrestle his temper down when he looked back at Gumdrop. His voice was raised, but now just to be heard over the incessant wailing, "Send my apologies to the appointment and offer to reschedule if they can't — or won't — wait today. If this goes on any longer I'll anesthetize myself."

"Yes sir, I'll let them know." The lavender mare trotted out of the office, leaving Dr. White to slump over his counter, trying to block out the worst with his hooves. Accustomed as she was to yells and screaming, even Gumdrop tucked her ears back as she dragged herself up the hallway through the concussive waves. If the screaming didn't delay her with reluctance, it might've by sheer force.

The remnants of their appointments for the day were either unabashedly covering their ears, curled up in their chairs, attempting stoic composure behind shaking newspapers or... gone. Mostly gone. The term 'squeakiest wheel' seemed both apt and understated.

It was logical to assume the four ponies clustered around the siren were company rather than prospective patients, though they looked no less pained than anyone else in the room. Well, all except the pink pony. Though not as loud, she appeared entirely undaunted by the excessive volume and instead was gleefully searching for harmonized pitches: a difficult if not impossible task, considering how frequently it shifted.

Getting the wailing patient to the dentist took higher priority than notifying the next appointment of the obvious delay. At any rate, it would be easier to tell them when their hearing wasn't impaired. If they were still there.

"Please tell the patient to follow me. Dr. White will see her now." Gumdrop's voice, while not quiet, was apparently still not enough to cut through.

"What?!" Twilight shouted back, leaning forward with a hoof very slightly cocked out of its ear-plugging position.

"I said, Dr. White will see her now!"

Twilight succumbed to a brief montage of exasperated and increasingly pained expressions as her mind battled between social standards and pragmatism. Pragmatism won, and a second later Rarity's onslaught was abruptly stifled to a confused whimper.

"I'm sorry. What?"

The silence was so deafening it practically had an echo, and there wasn't an eye in the room not staring at the purple hoof corked in Rarity's muzzle, including Rarity's, who had gone cross-eyed with a perplexity too shocked to be insulted. Gumdrop fumbled with her clipboard for a few moments, blinking as if all memory of the last 30 seconds had been wiped.

"I um... I said-... Dr. White is ready, please follow me." The moment "ready" left the nurse's mouth both Macintosh and Twilight clamored to oust Rarity from her seat with 'supportive' exuberance. As quickly as they managed this, though, their speed afterward was anticlimactic, what with Mac craning his neck under one foreleg as Twilight took the other, hobbling on three legs as Rarity salivated over the fourth.

A mare who was still bravely waiting her turn watched them from behind a cage of her own limbs, a single eye visible as it followed their unsteady progress to the hall door. When they reached it, Macintosh cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly.

"If y'all can make it okay, I'd kinda like t'stay behind an' wait for ya in the waitin' room. I uh... I got some readin' I'd like t'get done." Macintosh followed this up by widening his awkward grin, hoping to disguise his blatant attempt at invoking Twilight's literary sympathies. Apparently it worked.

"Big Mac! I didn't realize you read!" She blinked, "Oh, well I mean I know you can read but I didn't realize you enjoyed reading!" Perhaps grasping this wasn't coming across as positively as intended, Twilight wisely dove for the conclusion, "Aheh... Far be it from me to stand in the way of a pony's book list! We'll be fine! Besides, it'll get crowded. Why don't both you and Braeburn wait out here?"

For a split second, Macintosh almost looked dismayed; despite his feelings toward Braeburn, he was really hoping for some alone reading time. Emphasis on alone. He didn't want to risk 'taking the test' before he was ready, and he certainly didn't want Braeburn catching him with a literal how-to on coltcuddling, as if he didn't know what he was doing. Which he didn't, entirely, but that was beside the point.

All things considered, though, he already had much more personal space in the waiting room than he could have hoped for thanks to Rarity. So in the spirit of not looking a gift-horse in the mouth (in multiple senses) he opted to go along with the arrangement.

"Why thank ya, Miss Twilight!" He nodded to both her and the silenced Rarity, the latter of which stared up at him with a whimpering, tearful gaze, "An' I'm awful sorry that happened t' ya, Miss Rarity. I'm sure the doc here'll fix that tooth right up."

. . . an awkward pause followed as Macintosh tried to determine how to extract his support of the white unicorn without risking disengagement of Twilight's hoof. The princess also seemed to recognize this complication, and with the shared demeanor of a bomb squad they glanced up, down, and everywhere to take stock of the precarious configuration. Then an idea occurred to him.

"Miss Twilight? I don't s'pose you got one'a them..." He wordlessly drew a circle in the air with an unoccupied forehoof, and Twilight's eyes flew wide with an immediate spark of recognition.

"Of COURSE! Why didn't I think of that!?" Not a split second later, Twilight's horn lit up and poomf! A bubble of pink magic formed around Rarity's head. When she pulled her hoof away, Rarity's outburst resumed full force.

Except silently.

"Wonderful! Now Rarity can have her catharsis and we can... not... suffer hearing damage," her voice had drifted from a statement to something of a groan, "I think I was too busy having a headache to remember I could even do that. Anyway, I think we've got it from here. Enjoy your reading~!" Twilight's tone had regained some of its chime as she waved her slobber-slicked foreleg in his direction.

Macintosh pulled away as Pinkie Pie slid in to take his place, and with one more shaky smile he turned to trot back up the hall to the waiting room. Pinkie was already filling the offensive silence with rambling of her own.

"Y'know they say if you listen to a sound long enough you can start hearing music in it? It's true! I could hear melodies and tunes that I made all myself, and I could even start hearing my favorite songs in the screams just by tweaking the sounds in my head a liiiiittle bit! And I had a super-duper-UPER idea! If we can't fix her tooth, maybe we can help her do a line of hobo-pony fashion! 'Rags by Rari—" poomf.

Once again the waiting room was silent as Big Macintosh closed the door. Much to his relief, Braeburn had already seated himself, making it easy for Macintosh to select a chair distant enough for privacy. Two chairs between them should be plenty, he reasoned. One would invite interaction and three would suggest avoidance, but two was the sweet spot of social neutrality. Settling in with a grunt, Macintosh finally pulled his contraband from its location in the harness and opened it up once more.

During all of this, it was impossible to ignore that Braeburn was being abnormally reticent.

Macintosh was something of a wallflower, and as such was accustomed to standing out about as much as an ink spot on a busy newspaper. Braeburn, on the other hoof, made a practice of being the front page headline and yet he hadn't peeped a syllable since they got there. While the red shire was loathe to have more reasons not to read while he had the opportunity, he couldn't help but sneak a glance.

Braeburn was just sitting there, staring at the floor. Anxious? Surely not about Rarity's tooth... odd.

But as always, Macintosh wasn't about to question good fortune, even if it did come in the midst of pretty bad fortune. Turning back, his eyes skimmed through the pages: No stalkers or creeps... ridiculously famous... illegal... courteous... meatier... medical bills—Ah ha!

"The second rule of romancing a colt is being yourself. We just covered not being a creep, so now we'll cover the broader but related topic of being normal. Note that we said 'normal,' not 'suave' or 'classy.' In fact, the harder you try to 'impress' your target with your incredibly urbane skills, the more likely you'll be incredibly painful to watch. You don't want to try your luck hoping your fumbles end up looking cute, either, because unlike the movies they probably won't. Stallions in the cinema get tons of rehearsals, professional make-up artists, and scenes that were written for them, so even the stupid looks romantic."

"Hey... Macintosh?"

"An example: Leaning to a claustrophobic degree and delivering a 'winning grin' that vibes of a serial killer on the hunt. Trust us, no matter how appealing the visage of being a hunter is in your mind, it's not nearly as attractive in person, especially when forced. Save yourself a kick to the privates and don't try to squeeze into the witty, script-induced charisma of super stars. You'll do far better being the best version of yourself, but still yourself.

"A relaxed stallion is an attractive stallion."

"M-Mac?"

"Yes Braeb-Braeburn!!!" Macintosh and his voice jumped two stallions high in the squealed outburst. Somewhere between "The second rule" and "a relaxed stallion," Braeburn had shifted down to the chair right next to him. His massive, fumbling hooves couldn't cram the book out of sight fast enough, shoving it so far under his rump it felt awkward.

He sat there frozen in a posture suggesting electrocution a good long time before his brain calmed down enough to move. The yellow stallion was in practically the same state, except craned in the opposite direction as far as the armrest allowed.

"I-I-I'm sorry cuz! I didn't mean t' startle ya! I wasn't eaves-readin' or nothin' I swear! That'd be bad manners!" The words had tumbled out tinged with an odd desperation, as though he'd been waiting for the moment Big Mac registered his presence again to say them; he actually sounded scared.

It was right about then the words "A relaxed stallion" echoed in Macintosh's brain and he cleared his throat. He had to salvage this, somehow. As smoothly as he could, Big Macintosh desperately willed himself to relax, grinding his body back into the chair to achieve a pose less hysteric. It's very hard to 'relax' when every part of you feels like cement. And of course when you're relaxing desperately.

"S'alright Braeburn. Imma-krf-I'm jus' a little skittish after Rarity's urm... impairment. What'd ya need?"

As Big Mac "relaxed," Braeburn tried to follow suit in a disturbingly identical fashion, heaving an exaggerated stretch and sprawling in his chair as though nothing mattered in the world. The fake was real with this one, though he probably wasn't any better.

"Oh nothin' much. I was just uh...    wonderin' about Applebloom!" Braeburn's sentence gained a suspicious energy halfway through, strongly suggesting it had discovered itself along the way, "How is the filly these days? An' Granny Smith!"

"Oh, they're fine... they're fine..."

"That's good."

"Eeeeeeyup."

. . .

"Well look cuz, I'll uh... I'll jus' git back over to m'seat and let ya to yer readin'. We c'n catch up a mite later!" Braeburn exited his 'relaxed' posture much more naturally than he entered it, which is to say he scooted nervously back to the chair he originally occupied and crammed himself in. He then immediately pulled his hat down over his face as though to snooze, but there was the merest bit of muzzle sticking out the bottom, enough to see a twisted expression of mortified embarrassment.

Here, Macintosh got to thinking. And he thought a little more. And a little more, ruminating over the sequence of events and behaviors. And a little more... and then he smiled, just a bit. One of those smiles you might imagine a detective gets when he solves a case and everything fits.

This time when he relaxed it was perfectly natural, settling in the waiting room chair about as comfortably as Granny's rocker back home. When he pulled his book back out from under himself to resume his scholarly excursions it was with a note of solid confidence and a twinkle in his eye. It almost threatened to become a grin—then his face plummeted into frustration.

The book was folded halfway over.

   "To help with visualization of the scenarios going forward, we've provided some imag-" Suddenly, Big Macintosh's face grew a few shades deeper and he rapidly turned to the next page, wiggling uncomfortably with a snort. Well, he tried to. With the pages bent the way they were from being sat on, it took an average of three swipes for each one, five if the content was especially incriminating.

They had provided plenty of material to 'work with,' but he still considered himself a proper stallion! And that level of how-to wasn't something he nee— well... he'd review it later. But he didn't need it now! And it would introduce problems he needed even less, especially in public.

He took a deep breath and resumed where the largest section of text seemed to be, trying very hard not to let his eyes wander further up to the last illustration that hung tantalizingly above it, in every sense of the term. Actually, no, he turned to the next page again, just to be safe.

A fold-out of Soarin' sprang at him like a foal's pop-up story book, practically exploding to eye-level and bobbing stiffly in all the sports pony's unmitigated glory — if slightly creased. There were clearly things Rainbow Dash hadn't shared about Wonderbolt financing.

"Hey Big Macintosh! We're all done! I got tons of notes on the procedures. I didn't know there was so much involved in dentistry! How's the book?" Twilight's voice was so close it was like she was standing next to him. He saw her hooves. She was standing next to him!

WHAM! He slammed the book shut so hard between his hooves the clap rattled through the waiting room furniture. In as business-like a manner as frenetically possible, he rushed to stuff the book back under his harness. Again. Twilight and Pinkie Pie blinked.

"...Wow! You're... ...ready?" The princess sounded anything but certain on her choice of words. Floating in front of her was a notebook and quill, likely the distraction that allowed him to hide the book before she noticed, "...is that a map?"

He looked down, only then realizing he hadn't pressed the fold-out back into the book before closing it, and instead found it dangling face-down against his chest like a necktie.

"Eeeeyu—"

"With Soarin's head on it!!!" announced Pinkie, who had turned her own head upside down to see underneath. That did it. Macintosh yanked down the free-hanging paper, tearing it from the hidden book and balling up before anyone else could spot the nature of it.

Twilight was utterly incensed.

"Big. Macintosh! You should never treat a book that way! Why would you be so destructive?!" Her horn started glowing, and he felt the tell-tale tug of magic on both the wadded paper and his harness, "Here, I have a simple reparations spell that'll—"

"NOPE! Nope nope nope! NO!" 'Panicked flailing' doesn't quite capture the energy of the movements that followed. It was more a hurricane of limbs as he tumbled to the floor trying to wrestle out of Twilight's grip, somehow managing to shove the page under his harness to join the book as he did. Locking his forelegs around it, he put all his considerable musculature and weight into holding the harness down against her magic, which was gradually a losing battle that mostly just dragged his belly over the rug.

In his head, he knew he had to come up with a better excuse than "Nope" but nothing was coming to him. It was his default, after all. Then he saw a magazine another pony had left, "It was an advertisement!" Twilight was rightly incredulous, but she paused.

"An advertisement, in a book, for the Wonderbolts, that includes a map? That you felt the need to tear out and hide?"

Pinkie Pie was again 'helpful,' "It's a treasure trail map!" then leaned in to stage-whisper, "They've gotten reeeeeaaally liberal with their advertisements."

"Uh-huh." Twilight, being a ner—data-driven fact enthusiast—d, seemed unware of Pinkie's vernacular, but she was nothing if not persistent in the face of suspicion, a feeling she was very acquainted with, "I'm struggling to think of any publication that would include advertisements in book printing, Wonderbolts or otherwise." While Applejack may have been a terrible liar, that didn't make Big Macintosh any better at it, and his head was aching trying to come up with more.

"You an' me both, Miss Twilight! T'was as much a shock t'me as you, I swear!" His honesty was one hundred percent genuine on that point, complete with honest sweat, even if missing crucial context.

"You've been particularly verbose today, Big Macintosh, especially about this..." Her eyes narrowed further, and Macintosh continued to sweat so much he feared it might leave a Soarin'-colored ink-stain on his chest. But finally, whether she decided it wasn't worth pursuing or simply gave in to suspension of disbelief, Twilight released her magic.

Macintosh let out a heaved sigh as his head sank to the floor. He was a simple pony. Of all the things he never expected of his life, playing tug-of-war with an Equestrian princess over lascivious Soarin' pinups hadn't even made the list. Still, more than happy to take the win, he pulled himself back up to his hooves.

"I... suppose I... but..." she sighed and shook her head, then stared longingly at the location she knew the paper was hidden. One could almost feel her OCD battling her respect of privacy, "Well, if you change your mind on me fixing the boo—"

"—Y'all will be th'very first pony I come to, Miss Twilight. Awful kind'a ya t' offer," He bobbed his head sincerely, and then shot Pinkie Pie a warning look. She just smiled and blinked blankly; her train of thought had probably already left for the next station. Never had one of his secrets felt so precarious, but he hadn't exactly asked her not to tell, now had he? And now he couldn't, because Twilight was right there.

And so was Rarity, who had been woozily dangling between Pinkie and Twilight this entire time, and now made her wakefulness known.

"You're AAAAAAALL my BEST friends~ Such loveely ponies!" Her eyes brightened a bit as she recognized the blob of red before her, "And Shining. Armor! What a pleezing—a pleezure—a please—a place to meet you!" This interruption routed Twilight's attention off the book and back to the present matter with relieving effectiveness, though the princess's face was less than thrilled.

"The dentist... gave her sedatives. Multiple, sedatives. Sheeeee's going to be a little 'out of it' for a couple hours..." the weariness was audible in Twilight's voice, "That's Big Macintosh, Rarity, not my brother." This information elated her friend even further.

"Oh Maaaaaacintosh~ What a meety place to pleasure—!"

"—Kahem! Yyyyes!" Twilight cut in before Rarity's beleaguered faculties ventured further, "Pinkie Pie and I need to go find the others, but we were hoping you could meet us at the local malt shop? The dentist said getting food and liquids in her system will help flush out the tranquilizers. If you... wouldn't mind escorting Rarity that is?" The titter in her voice was anything but hidden.

"Oh! I'll help ya!" Braeburn burst into the conversation from his 'snooze'. Big Macintosh felt a wave of relief flow over him. If anyone could get Rarity from one s—"I c'n find AJ in a flash! Ya mean th'malt shop down on Hayseed?"

The traitor.

"That's the one!" Twilight replied cheerily, immediately hoisting Rarity over to hang from Big Macintosh's shoulder like a partly detached drapery. He was obliged to wrap a foreleg around her to keep gravity from dragging the unicorn to the floor, "Thanks again Big Mac! See you at the malt shop!" Pinkie followed along, waving in a blur.

"I'm gonna make the milkshaaaaakes! Byyyyyyeeeeee!"—Clack.

His mouth was still hanging open with the opinion he never got to provide on the matter; he hadn't even fully registered them escaping to the doorway, and just like that they had abandoned him. Slowly, he closed his mouth and felt around to make sure his book and its dismembered foldout were still in their safe-keeping spot, releasing Rarity just long enough to do so, and catching her just before she toppled.

It really was a shame he had to do that to the foldout. He didn't dare think of the content, though, other than concocting ways he might delicately reclaim the paper from its crumpled state. And methods of cornering Pinkie Pie in hopes of swearing her to silence.

"This'll be lovely Big Macintosh! I haven't gotten to walk with you in such a long time~" Rarity had wakened a little further and was batting her eyes again, but it was so slow it looked like she was still dropping in and out of consciousness. When Macintosh started guiding them toward the front door, she was seized with a need to reaffirm her loyalty, "I will follow you to the ends of Equesssssssstria!"

"Thank ya kindly, Miss Rarity, but right at th'moment, out the door'll do jus' fine."

"How boring. IN THE NAME OF CELESTIA! WE VENTURE OUT THE FRONT DOOR! What's outside the front door anyway? Is there another monster we have to fight? I never feel prepared for these things. All these dreadful villains just... popping out of the ground like... prim... posies!" With every "P" Rarity bobbed herself to emphasize it. The shire sighed as he pressed through the doorway to lead her out. This would be a long walk.

"Eeeyup."