A Fanclub with Only Two Fans
A Fan Club with Only Two Fans
They had exchanged one wall of sound for another, trading the howl of wind between buildings for the pulse of speakers. Even now the rhythm still echoed in the back of Rainbow Dash’s mind, each thump illuminating a flash of the previous evening. She could hear the music. The bass hit a crescendo, and she could see the fuzzy plush couches and booths lit by the flashing pastel lights. Along with the keyboard solo came the scent of sweet cocktails with curly straws and umbrellas. She heard a drum break, and felt Fluttershy dancing close to her.
Fluttershy’s warmth had turned to heat. The girl couldn’t hold her liquor. It had only taken a dozen samples wash away her inhibitions. They could’ve stopped after the first few; Cake-in-a-Glass, Frosting Bomb, Sprinklerita. They had found the place, obviously. The air was sugary, and the dessert menu was three times the size of the other. The music sounded like Pinkie’s soul inscribed on a record. Balloons clustered above their heads and hid the ceiling. As soon as they stepped through the door they knew that this was it.
A line of empty sample glasses lined the counter between them. The sticky sweet residue still stuck to her lips. Fluttershy had matched her, sip for sip. “They’re small, Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash had told her. They had gone down the menu like a checklist. A dozen fruity drinks with curley straws and umbrellas, served by a bartender who juggled the liquor bottles like a clown. The first few stung as they went down, but the alcohol in each got smoother. Three drinks in and Rainbow Dash stopped coaxing.
Now she saw herself on her feet, stomping the dance floor in a parody of rhythm. She saw Fluttershy laugh at her efforts, but couldn’t hear her over the crushing beat that shook the air. Half a moment later she had yanked Fluttershy off of her stool, and had her dancing like a willing puppet. She released her grip, and even with the strings cut Fluttershy had continued to dance, every movement flowing with the melody.
Rainbow Dash couldn’t help herself. She was drawn in like a moth to flame, savoring the heat that radiated from Fluttershy’s every movement. The odd step brought their bodies together, if only for an instant. The touch burned like cold fingers held over a fire. The heat rose in her head, and she felt herself floating. She let herself become the marionette, following Fluttershy’s body as she swayed.
They spun, in front of and behind each other, the lights and sounds of the club blurring into a kaleidoscope. The world vanished into bright streaks, and they were the only two people in the world. For a split second they found themselves truly dancing together. The circles slowed, and their dizzy eyes met. Rainbow Dash smiled, not know whether the blush in Fluttershy’s cheeks was from the alcohol, or from their shared moment alone in the midst of the chaos.
“Are you ready to go?” Rainbow Dash had asked.
Fluttershy needed only to nod.
Feeling Cold in the Back of Vans
Feeling Cold in the Back of Vans
Rainbow Dash remembered only sensations, no words. Vaguely she could hear the sound of cold winter wind lashing against the windows of the cab, wriggling its way through the rubber seals. Her hands burned with the cold, and she tried not to move them. The air in the cab felt no warmer than the wind that drove the snow outside. She shivered, and Fluttershy leaned against her, already warm. Rainbow Dash recalled holding the door open, letting Fluttershy in first.
One of them, she couldn’t say who, gave the driver the address, and the cab rattled off down the road. She had clasped her hands tightly together and breathed into them. Fluttershy continued to lean on her. Rainbow Dash leaned right back, her head sinking into Fluttershy’s pillowy overcoat. Then she felt the gentle weight of Fluttershy’s head resting against hers.
In the rearview mirror she had seen the driver smirk, and heard his chuckle in her stinging ears. She felt Fluttershy blush; the warm cheek against the side of her head grew suddenly warm. Rainbow Dash grinned, and some frivolous, silly comment left her lips. What exactly it had been, she couldn’t recall, but the driver guffawed, and Fluttershy blushed more. Likely wishful thinking in the guise of jest.
There had been a conversation at some point. She had done most of the talking, if not all of it. They weren’t from around here. No, we’re from Ponyville. What brings you to Manehattan? Bringing a friend out for her birthday; we’re scouting out a fun dance club for the party. When’s the big day? Two days from now. Are the two of you a… the driver made a hand motion as he tried to think of the word. Fluttershy stiffened and finally said something. The driver had chortled. Rainbow Dash had laughed along.
After that, the ride was quiet, and Rainbow Dash turned her attention back to Fluttershy. She was warm. Fluttershy was always warm. It was a warmth that flowed, from where Fluttershy’s hot cheek pressed against her head, pouring down into her chest. The back seat of the cab became a sofa in front of a roaring fire.
The next thing she remembered was the cab crunching to a halt at the curb, and a bright pink glow on the other side of the frost-smeared window. The moment where she forced herself away from the warmth was nowhere to be found, it was a small mercy that she had forgotten. Her fingers felt like ice as she gripped the door handle and opened the door for Fluttershy to step into the inch of slush on the street. Fluttershy lingered, tipping the driver. Rainbow Dash couldn’t help but smile.
Her nose and ears were numb already, and her cheeks were sure to follow shortly. A snowy gust of wind caught Fluttershy’s hair as she stepped into the evening. It curled around her face, hiding her eyes. Fluttershy slipped on the slick street, and Rainbow Dash had caught her. Even in the midst of the violent wind lashing at her body, Fluttershy was still warm.
