Stars Over Manehattan

by Whirring Gears

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Coco Pommel, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Other, Romance
Length: 10150

[2nd POV] You and Coco get ready for bed. It hasn't been a good night.

[Second Person Perspective]

Open door. Let in Coco. Close door. Set lock. Sigh.

It was an eventful night to say the least. The cloths and scraps all over the room can wait. The blinking light on the answering machine can wait. The mess of ink and paper on the table can wait.

Looking at Coco Pommel, you see the same desire in her tired eyes.

All of it can wait until tomorrow. You and Coco just get ready for bed.

(A bit of a mystery fic. See what details you can glean from the dialogue to determine who the character is and what events happened prior to when the story starts.)

Published 2014-04-05 03:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-05 03:30:01 UTC

Ugh...

You take the key out of the lock and turn the knob. Opening the door, you turn on the light revealing the apartment in the same frantic state as you left it when you went out. Stepping in, you hold the door open for Coco Pommel as she enters behind you.

Poor Coco. Her coat still looks a little pale despite the ordeal being over. She’s still shaking, either from fear or from the cold weather you both walked through. In your haste, you forgot to get her a jacket. For now, the heating of the apartment will have to do.

Closing the door, you turn the lever to set the dead bolt into place. There will be many days and nights after this that you will be sure to repeat this process. In the room there are cloths of many shapes, sizes, and color are strewn about the room. Thread connects everything together from swatches of fabric to pieces of paper on the corkboard above the sofa, all notes in a system that was everyday for Coco, but just a bit out of your grasp. She tries to keep it neat and tidy when she’s done, but there’s a flurry of activity and a cacophony of color when she’s working at full steam. A channeling of creativity through a bizarre storm of chaos that somehow churns out some of the most beautiful clothing you’ve ever seen. Seeing it in still disarray shows that she was interrupted, but this mess of half finished dresses and fabric scraps could wait.

A red blinking light on the answering machine catches your attention. There are a couple new messages on top of the ones you left for Coco. You had received a call earlier from a couple ponies before you went out. It’s easier to let these sort of calls go to the machine. One was Coco’s former employer, calling for about the fifth time this week. Rolling your eyes as you recall the message, you ponder why Coco would ever ask you to not delete them on the spot. Either out of fear or respect, even though she’s claimed that she is done being an assistant to a pony like that. Still, whether she likes it or not, it will have to wait.

You see your desk in the corner, paper and ink wells spilled over from when you received the message. The wells were pretty much dry, so only a few drops got spilled. Although, it’s not the first ink spilled on the desk. The globe was knocked over, but the telescope next to the desk is still neatly folded up and away. The white-spotted map still hangs over it all, looking down like the night sky itself. The papers have scattered all over, each with their own nearly incomprehensible scribbles. Coco has her strange ways and you have yours. Your month-long bus pass is on the floor as well. It’s getting close to the thirtieth so you’ll have to renew it soon. Maybe. If at all. It can wait.

Turning to Coco, she sits there, shoulders slumped and head dipped, but still looking up at you. The mix of emotions in her eyes and features makes it hard to tell what she’s thinking.

Doing the only thing that comes to mind, you trot over, sit down, and wrap your hooves around her tightly. Her fur feels cold and slightly grimy, but it doesn’t make a difference. Your pumping heart holds your forelegs in place, never wanting to let go.

Slowly, her own hooves come up and find their way around to your back, returning your hug. Softly, she begins to whimper into your shoulder, coming down from the adrenaline rush earlier. You just hold her even tighter, as if you could just squeeze the fear out of her. It’s wishful thinking, but you can’t come up with anything else to do. A few tears escape your own eyes as the two of you sit in the middle of the living room that, for a moment, you questioned ever seeing again.

The moment drags on. The hard wood floor underneath you warms from your presence. The only sounds are Coco’s stammered breathing and the occasional sniffle between the two of you. Her grip gradually gets weaker, eventually dropping down to your waist. Loosening your hold around her a little, she picks her head up to whisper into your ear.

“C-Could I have a shower, please?” she asks softly.

“Of course,” you say, taking a hoof back, but leaving one around her shoulders. With no other words, you both trot over to the bathroom.

The tile floor feels even colder than the wood floor. As you approach the tub, you remember a time this room wasn’t so clean. When the walls weren’t so white with bottles organized on the shelves. When the curtains were stained all the way down despite never really touching them. When the mirror… well, the mirror always had a crack in it.

The fluffy bath mat gives a nice break from the cold floor. There’s a timid squeaking as Coco carefully turns the knobs of the faucet, waiting a while before sticking a hoof under to test it. The continuous flow of water hitting the acrylic floor is almost a jarring contrast to the near silence from before. You just watch as she carefully turns the hot and cold up and down to try and get it to the optimal temperature. While she’ll probably just adjust it again when she actually steps in, you say nothing and let Coco fiddle with it as she sees fit for now. Eventually, she pulls up on the switch under the faucet. There’s a pause for a moment, a slight groan coming from the pipes before water sprays out of the showerhead above.

You take your hoof back as she steps into the tub, but she hesitates when you do so. She gives you a quick nervous glance before turning back towards the floor of the tub.

“Something wrong?” you ask.

“Could you, um…” she trails off. She doesn’t need to finish; you know what she wants.

“I’ll stay right here. Don’t worry,” you say, leaning down and giving her a reassuring nuzzle. With your teeth, you carefully take the collar off from around Coco’s neck.

She takes a breath as you remove the small accessory. Summoning the courage, she steps the rest of the way into the tub and under the water, splashing out a bit onto the floor outside. Tugging the curtain, she pulls it across to keep the splashing droplets contained, but leaves a partial space to look out and see you.

You place her collar on the counter next to the sink and take a seat on the toilet, fulfilling your promise not to leave. The steam from the shower begins to warm up the room as you hear the water splashes shift from floor to curtain as she moves around out of sight. There’s a little pause before you hear the squeaking of the knobs again. The sound makes your shoulders shake in a few silent chuckles.

Her light blue eye peeks out through the gap in the curtain. You give her a little smile and nod to show you’re still with her. She smiles as well before disappearing back into the realm of suds and steam. There’s a click of the cap of a shampoo bottle. A slight flowery fragrance fills the room as you sigh in your own thoughts.

Four days. For four whole days, you were smarter than anypony else. For four whole days, the diligence you were once mocked for came through.

You were given offers from many ponies. Generous offers for what you observed.

But no. You wanted it all for yourself. For ponies to see what was yours and yours alone. It seemed like it was exactly what you wanted, a way to one-up the competition. To have complete what others could not.

They fought you on this front. “So many others are better qualified!” they said. “More ponies would see it if we went with this big name!” Completely missing the point that maybe, just maybe, you wanted to be a big name, too.

But if what happened tonight is what the big names do, then you don’t know anymore.

You put your head in your hooves, releasing a sigh just quiet enough as to not worry Coco in the shower. Rubbing around your head, you bump into the horn on your forehead. You nearly forgot you had it. Must have been instinct with how big a hurry you were in. Carefully taking if off, the string tied around your head holding it in place brushing past your mane, you look down to the cone of wood.

This was how desperately you wanted to fit in. The fake horn, painted to match your coat, the string hidden under your hair. After tonight, you hope never to see those Canterlot bastards again. You feel an urge to heave the thing across the room, but you don’t want to scare Coco. You just set it down on the counter next to her collar before rubbing your head again.

A concerned hum from behind the curtain catches your attention. Coco seems to have noticed your distressed position.

“I’ll be fine,” you say sitting up straight.

The half of Coco’s face poking out looks unconvinced. The two of you look at each other, trying to think of something else to say. Suddenly, her gaze travels downward.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Coco, no!” the words come bursting past your lips. She looks back up surprised at your little outburst. “Listen, there are a lot of ponies I blame for this. I blame those Canterlot publishers. I blame Princess Luna. Most of all, I blame myself.” You shake your head. “But you are the last pony I could ever blame in all of this. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Silence rolls in like the hot steam. In no way do you question what you have just said, but you know there is much more to say. Any sort of apology would probably be met with some sort of argument against your involvement, but you know that would just be a back and forth leading nowhere. Still, your chest feels tight with the urge to say something else to start drawing this whole evening to a close.

“I should have listened to you.”

“What?” she asks, surprised.

You prop your head against the wall beside you. “About being generous. Whatever it was you witnessed the day you quit your job, I just… I should have believed you.”

Meeting her gaze past the curtain, she look almost mournful. Most other mares would take your admittance and run with it, but not Coco. She takes her own time to ponder her next words.

“Being generous can be hard sometimes,” she says.

“But we could have avoided all of this,” you respond. “None of tonight had to happen.”

“You didn’t know,” she calmly replies. “You can’t beat yourself up over the would haves, could haves, or should haves. What you had was a plan for our futures.” She reaches a wet hoof out of the shower, not caring what water might get spilled on the floor. “You couldn’t have been expected to try and find a way to give up what you had.”

A warmth spreads through your cold fur, either through the outside air or guilt. Coco always found ways to lessen the blow. While still angry with yourself, knowing Coco would always be there for you relaxes some of the tension you didn’t realize was in your clenched shoulders.

You take her hoof and give it a squeeze in lieu of the next tight hug you want to give her. “Hindsight’s 20-20, I guess,” you say. It’s too late in the night for another pity argument.

The two of you sit together in the steamy bathroom, forelegs stretched out to meet each other. Neither of you are very accustomed to reaching out continuously, though. You can feel a little shaking in Coco’s arm showing that she’s getting tired. Letting go of your grip around her, she slides her hoof off of yours and returns behind the curtain.

A few more moments pass by, the only sound in the room coming from the shower and the occasional clatter of plastic bottles. As that goes on, you’re left alone with your own mind. Having gotten the blame for yourself out already and the blame for certain other parties suppressed by fear, your ire turns to one who probably has no idea what their actions have wrought.

Princess Luna knew. She must have known everypony would have been watching during her return. That must have been the only reason she waited. But why did she wait? Why did she say nothing to anypony about it?

“Would you, um…” comes Coco’s light voice to break you out of your foggy hatred again. She’s peeking through the curtain gap again, looking a little scared. Feeling a little soreness from the edges of your mouth from how hard you must have been frowning, you give an apologetic look to Coco. “D-Do you need to shower as well?” she finishes.

The fuzzy weight in your limbs makes you question if it’s necessary or if you even want to consider the effort. Anything besides making it to and collapsing into bed seems like more trouble than its worth. However, if there’s a chance that there is anything lingering on your fur from the dank musty building you got out of, it would be worth washing every last bit off.

“I’ll have a quick wash,” you reply.

Coco slowly steps out of the shower and onto the bathmat. Her wet bangs swirl down the side of her face, stopping just above her nose. Her fur is wet and flat, but she looks cleaner and more at ease than she had before.

With a hoof, she holds open the curtain for you. Not wasting any time, you trot over and give Coco an appreciative smile. Stepping into the tub, her hoof lets go of the curtain and travels down your back as you walk in, a light scratching to her touch. It causes a shiver to run down your back, partially due to the moisture you were not entirely ready for. Still you enjoy the gesture enough to slow your pace to feel her hoof for as long as you can get away with.

The steam behind the curtain envelops you instantly, banishing away the cold from outside. It seems to seep into your fur and then your whole body, warming you up and getting a little more blood flowing to your limbs. It pushes back your exhaustion, albeit temporarily. You’ll have to use this to work fast before you fall asleep in the shower.

The water feels perfect. Just the right amount of heat that soothes your body, washing through your mane, back, and legs. It feels as if all the sweat, the tears, the fear, and the dirt are flowing right off of you and down the drain. You know Coco always prefers showers more on the side of lukewarm. She must have adjusted it again without you noticing.

She stills believes in you. She still cares about you.

A single tear is added to the falling water as the realization dawns on you. It swells in your chest making you feel like you could walk on air. You want to say something, but is Coco still in the room with you?

A little confusion begins to build as you look out the gap towards the toilet where you were sitting. You can see her and fear begins to rise where the confusion is settling. This could be the kind of fear that caused her to ask to stay with you, only now you feel it because you didn’t think to ask-

CLICK-vvvrrrr…

The sound of the hair dryer puts all your worries to rest, leaving only a relieved smile on your face. “Hey, Coco?” you call out.

“Hmm?” she hums over the noise of the dryer.

“Thank you,” you say, soft enough to be genuine, but loud enough for her to hear. Peeking out the other end of the curtain, she smiles towards you as the hair dryer begins blowing her short mane around. The wildly waving hair in contrast to her sweet expression and those bright blue eyes is an absurd enough to feel a few chuckles try to bubble up.

She sees this and her expression changes to slightly befuddled. Her head even tilts slightly to the side, like a puppy. It’s too much and a chuckle manages to work its way out of your throat. The hair dryer clicks off as a raised eyebrow silently asks you what’s wrong.

You shake your head. “Sometimes, you’re too adorable,” you say.

Her eyes open in surprise to your statement before a small smile appears with a hint of blush. She holds her hooves closer to her chest with the hair dryer. “T-Thanks…” she squeaks out.

Taking just a few more seconds to admire her cute mannerisms, you disappear back into the steam and water. Hearing the hair dryer resume its work, you take your bottle of shampoo/conditioner and squeeze a bit into your hoof. While not as fancy as the kind Coco uses- well okay, Coco’s shampoo is actually cheaper. You have a preference for unscented and convenience, but you have been meaning to ask her if her brand has anything like that. It’s been hard to step outside the comfort zone these days. You make a mental note to ask her as you lather it through your mane. Letting it sit, you take a bit more shampoo for your tail and carefully work it in. You let your mind drift again, listening to the droning noise of the shower and hair dryer.

How on top of the world did you feel when you were told you had the only documentation of the start of the change? Everypony was skeptical. Others in your profession tried to find ways to disprove what you had, but one glance at your life’s work quickly shot down their theories. Funny how quickly ponies warm up to you when you’ve got something they missed their chance to see again. And how quickly they’ll turn when…

You dip your head under the running water to drown out those thoughts. Washing out your mane, you use the running suds to wash out the rest of your fur. Turning to rinse your tail, you notice the hair dryer noise coming from a lower point in the room. Coco must be drying her tail now. You hurry up to not keep her waiting. Thankfully your short mane and tail don’t take too long to clean.

With the last of the hair-care suds washing down the drain, you give yourself one last pass under the pouring water. Sure that all the possible filth from the day is now off your body, you turn both knobs on the faucet all the way to the right, shutting of the shower with a squeak and CLUNK. A gurgle comes from the drain as you pull aside the curtains, rattling from the rings that keep them attached to the bar above.

Stepping onto the bathmat, you feel a bit of moisture left from when Coco was finished. She shuts off the hair dryer and smiles as you look through the bangs clinging to your face. Brushing them aside with a hoof, you reach out with the other towards the towel rack. Coco normally showers in the morning and uses the dryer to look nice for the day ahead. Makes sense considering her job is specifically to make ponies look good, it should include herself. You, however, don’t have as much concern and are willing to do just what it takes to be decent and inoffensive in public.

Your reaching hoof grabs only a cold, empty pole. There are no towels on the towel rack.

Friday. Laundry day. Interruptions. Right.

Staring at the empty rack, you consider if you should walk through the room dripping wet or just sit to air dry.

CLICK-vvvrrrr…

The hot air blowing onto your fur makes you bring your hooves up in surprise at first. It tickles a bit as Coco waves it up and down your side. Eventually you ease into the sensation and allow her to continue. Although, it becomes a nearly unbearable mix of heat and ticklish nerves as it passes over your belly. As the air comes to rest against your shoulder, you get the message to lift up your foreleg and let her dry underneath as well. Repeating the process as needed, you feel the moisture effectively removed from your fur. She focuses on your tail for a moment, its short length thankfully cutting the task time short.

Your mane takes a bit longer, again the dryer passing over several times. Closing your eyes against the hot air, you can feel your mane getting blown around every which way as she works. However, her slow and deliberate method soon speeds up as it seems to wildly wave over your scalp. The dryer is taken away for a moment and you peek an eye open.

She’s wearing a mischievous little smirk under her lightly frizzled blue mane. A little uncommon for Coco, but undeniably charming.

“Is my mane dr-” VVVRRRR.

You clench your eyes shut again after getting an open mouthful of the dryer’s hot air. She giggles as she continues to play with your mane a bit. You simply let her have fun, working out stress whatever way she can after tonight.

You hear her click the dryer off and open your eyes again. Her expression is still smiling, but a bit more sheepish now.

“Sorry…” she squeaks out.

“Don’t be. That was funny,” you say, leaning over to give her another nuzzle of comfort.

As you make contact you notice how soft her fur feels. It’s as smooth a luxurious silk pillow. Rubbing your nose down her neck, you brush your cheek against her as she exhales a low sigh. Going down to the crook of her neck, it’s so warm and inviting. Resting your chin on her shoulder, you can almost feel her pulse along with her breathing.

You detect a mixture of scents as you wrap your hooves around her to pull her closer. A light vanilla from her coat with a trace of fruit from mane. She’s almost like a wild berry parfait, only sweeter.

She sets down the hair dryer and puts her hooves on your shoulders. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, it’s just…” You realize how silly what you’re about to say sounds. Taking a moment, the thoughts dragging through the muddy bog of your tired mind find no eloquent way to phrase it. “I never knew how pretty you are after a shower.”

There’s a pause. Then a giggle. Another giggle. Soon a flow of giggles rocks the shoulders you’re leaning on as she reaches around to pull you close.

“I try,” she says. “Of course, you don’t really see me like this, so…” she trails off.

That’s very true. She’s an early bird while you’re definitely a night owl. Coco is long gone by the time you regularly wake up. The realization is like a weight dropping further and further into your stomach. The thought of just how disconnected you are with her.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“What?” she asks.

“I should be with you more,” you reply. “We should spend more time together.”

She pats your back and begins slowly rocking from side to side. A little burning sensation fills your cheeks as you realize you’re being comforted like a foal, but at least it’s working. Your mind is avoiding the downward spiral for the third time tonight.

“I would absolutely love that,” she hums into your ear. “But I know how different lives we lead. I have my work and you have yours.”

You let out a deep heaving sigh before lifting yourself up off of her shoulder. “After tonight, I don’t know.”

“Oh, please don’t talk like that.”

“I mean it, Coco. After everything, how could I even continue with my work?” you ask, the feeling of tears welling up in your eyes. “Just to have it all wrenched from my hooves again?”

She puts her head on your shoulder, like you had with her. She continues rocking you and slowly rubs your back, let you breath through the sobs you’re trying to choke back.

“Do you think they’ll actually come back?” she queries.

Taking a moment to let reason rise over emotion, you shake your head. “No,” you admit. “I wouldn’t have anything else they’d want.”

“I know it’s hard.” She gives another pat to your back. “But we can get through whatever happens. I can make enough to pay rent if, um, we scrimp a bit. Like the old days.”

Your nose wrinkles, thankfully out of sight of Coco. The old days of hoofwritten manuscripts, bathtub laundry, and cereal for dinner if you’re lucky. You thought you were past that. And now, because you were greedy, you fell back into barely making ends meet. All in one night.

A nuzzle into your neck makes the sourness melt away. The one pony you did everything for. You squeeze her tighter, making her squeak a little in surprise. She seems to understand, returning your force with an increase of grip herself.

She’s always been there for you. A reassuring word, a point of advice, confidence, knowledge, faith, she’s given it all to you. You want to return it all. You owe her so much, every favor you’ve asked now creating tiny void after void in your heart.

The silence is thick between the two of you for as long as you’ve been sitting there. Your mind races, trying to find some way to make this all better. To give Coco everything she deserves. Her favorite shampoos and conditioners, a personal selection of fabrics with new sewing machine for her very own home projects, even the imported fluffy bread made of rice that she swears she’s not interested in but you’ve noticed her side glance at it every time you’re at the store.

But where do you begin? How do you start building back up? What’s step one?

You don’t know. However, you know a pony who just may. “Coco?”

“Yes?”

You lick your lips and take a deep breath. “What should we do now?”

“Right now?”

You nod.

“We go to sleep.” She leans back and looks you in the eye. “Everything will be much better in the morning.”

Being immediately against the notion of doing nothing, you try to think of another option. However, as a yawn escapes your lips and the weight of exhaustion returns, you submit to Coco’s advice. Everything can wait.

Your yawn seems to be contagious, and you hear Coco let out a small yawn of her own in a tiny, barely audible noise. Her exhale is ended by a little shiver in your arms. You notice the change in temperature as well. The two of you have been sitting there long enough for all the steam in the room to have dissipated.

“Okay,” you murmur.

She gives you one last brush of her hoof down your back before pulling away. You keep your hooves around her for as long as you can and even she seems reluctant to have you let go. She offers a grin, letting you know the separation is only temporary.

“Let’s get ready for bed,” she says, opening the cupboard behind the mirror above the sink. She picks up the toothpaste and her brush as you reach for yours over her. After squeezing a bit of the minty goop onto the bristles, she leans over to offer you some. Her fur presses against yours again, her body warming the chill that had built in the few seconds you’ve been apart. She squeezes a small amount of toothpaste onto your brush and puts it away as you both begin.

You never knew how differently you and Coco brushed your teeth before. She goes it tiny, deliberate brushes, slowly moving from side to side over each tooth. On the other hoof, you prefer long strokes, passing over several teeth at once. While you finish much sooner than Coco, you continue brushing out of fear that she may find fault in your quick technique.

She carefully spits into the sink, turning on the faucet to rinse out the minty remains from her brush. When she’s finished, you spit the foam down the drain as well. Rinsing your brush, you notice her carefully flicking the bristles to get them dry and keep them straight. The bristles of your toothbrush have splayed out, like a wild blooming flower. There’s no hiding your slobby nature this time. You shake out your brush like habit and put it back on the shelf. She sets hers down next to yours and picks up the floss.

She pulls out a length of the off white string and wraps the ends around her hooves. You don’t care too much for flossing. Your dentist tells you to, but it always makes your gums bleed and hurt. Carefully, she starts at one end on the top row of teeth. All you can see with staring intently into her mouth is a little wiggling of her hooves before getting into the next position.

Looking over, you see the hair dryer still plugged in and on the floor. Picking it up, you wonder what to do with it. The plug is on the other side of Coco and you holding it kind of traps her in the sink area with the cord. As she notices you with the dryer, she pulls the floss out of her mouth for a moment. Reaching over, she unplugs it from the wall and points to the second drawer under the sink.

“Wrap up the cord, please,” she says.

You nod and begin circling the cord around the handle of the dryer, all in one even layer to try and emulate some of Coco’s diligence. Happy with the nice pattern of the wrapping, you open the drawer to put it back. Looking inside, you see a special case for the dryer. It’s shaped exactly for it with a special area under it for the cord. You think about trying to put it in as is, but the wrapped cord makes the handle to wide to fit. Unwrapping the entire thing, you fit the dryer in the case before carefully collecting the wire in a neat spiral to put in next to it.

Coco has already finished flossing and is simply looking at you with another shy grin. After closing the door, you offer a hoof to her. She throws away the floss and takes your hoof, leaning against you. Her warmth and weight making you feel the urge for sleep again. Clicking off the bathroom light with your nose, you and Coco trot out towards the bedroom.

A small journey, but it feels like a great distance for your legs. The two of you separate as you prepare to climb in under the covers from opposite side. Passing your own dresser, you notice Coco’s side of the room is much neater. Even her nightstand is tidy, with only a book and her alarm clock. Your alarm clock is partially buried under scrolls and other trinkets collected in your time awake.

The sheets feel cool, but getting into bed and finally letting your head touch the pillow instantly relaxes you. Coco takes her time, settling in little by little, inching her way towards you. When she’s finally close to you, she sinks in under the blanket, laying her head down carefully as if not to disrupt anything. Reaching over, you pull her even closer.

While the light of street lamps pours in through the window, you take one last look into those cyan eyes. Without breaking eye contact, she snuggles into your embrace. You lean forward slowly, touching the tip of your nose to hers. Pressing on, you touch your lips to hers. She returns the kiss, pushing her lips against yours.

You enjoy all the sensations. The warm, soft pressing of your lips, the small breaths she breathes through her nose across your face, and the scent of her fur still as irresistible as it was after her shower. After a few seconds, you both pull away.

“Goodnight, Coco,” you whisper.

She doesn’t say anything, but nods as she leans more of her weight against you. She closes her eyes with a grin as you continue to hold her light, lissome body. You continue to stare, but every blink is harder and harder to open your eyes again. Soon, you just close them completely yourself, simply enjoy the sounds of her delicate breathing, the snuggliness of her fur, and the scent of her mane.

You begin to sink deeper into the darkness of sleep, tomorrow bringing a new promise, whatever it may be.

Coco fidgets a bit.

Breathing out a yawn, you feel yourself sinking away into slumber.

She lets out a tiny grunt, lifting and adjusting her shoulders a bit.

Again, slipping deeper into unconsciousness with the mare who will stay beside you no matter what-

-who is now trying to turn herself over in your arms.

“Are you alright, Coco?” you ask.

“Yes, I’m just trying to get comfortable. Sorry,” she replies as she settles herself down again, now facing away from you.

You wait for a moment.

She adjusts her shoulders again.

You wait a little more.

She now tries to turn completely on her back.

Opening an eye to check, she fidgets around a little more. It seems like she’s finally found her place. Her eyelids are shut and she seems to be set. Closing your eyes again, you-

She’s now trying to turn onto her stomach.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” you ask again.

“I’m just, mmph-” She fidgets again. “Feeling a little stiff.”

You pick your head up a bit. “Where?”

“In the shoulders, mostly,” she explains.

You get an idea. While she’s on her stomach, you move your hooves over onto her shoulders. With a slight grip, you begin to gently rub them. “How’s this?”

She coos lightly at your touch. “Ooh, that’s nice,” she murmurs.

Unfortunately, your laying position isn’t working well for this. You sit up and adjust yourself to put a little more feeling into it.

“You don’t have to get up for- oh~” Her sentence is cut short as you begin to really get into it. The sleepiness is wearing off now with a new purpose. You work the soft fur in your hooves with a slow, but steady rhythm.

“That’s so nice…” She lays her forelegs down straight, letting you work as much as you can. Her compliment is a little surprising considering you’ve never done this before.

She looks so adorable, laying perfectly still, letting you massage her. Her breathing has been increasing and you can feel her tense muscles melting under your touch. You continue the motions, a slight grasp, pulling, and pushing that she seems to be enjoying. Despite your inexperience, every little mumble and breath tell you you’re doing fine. However, that little bit of worry from your inexpertise sparks a troubling epiphany. You remember thinking it before, but only now do you realize what it means.

You’ve never done this before. You’ve never done this for her before.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. The first time you’d ever think to massage her aching muscles is after a night like tonight. How often would she become sore, hunched over sewing machines all day?

Your troubled thoughts have slowed your pace and Coco takes notice. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all,” you reply, even with the idea of having deprived Coco of this treatment for so long eats away at you. However, you start to get a new idea. You’ve gotten here, so maybe there’s something you can do to make up for all the times she may have needed this. A time to make up for the generosity you should have shown.

“Really?”

“Well, actually,” you begin, stopping your hooves for a moment. Coco turns her head to look at you. “Is there anything else I could do for you?”

Coco looks at you with a mix of surprise and confusion.

“I’ve never done this for you and I just want you to feel, you know, better after tonight,” you explain. “And I said I wanted to be more generous. Is there anything you’d like me to do?”

She lays her head back down to consider. “I guess if you could, um, squeeze a bit harder,” she says.

“Okay,” you resume, this time with a little more grip. Coco has always looked a little delicate so you’re afraid of squeezing too hard. However, with just a little more grip, she seems to be breathing a little harder.

“Is this alright, Coco?”

“Y-Yeah, but… could you… harder please?”

Surprised by her request, you grip a little more, even putting more strength into pushing into her fur. She lets out a low moan that causes you to stop.

“No, that’s perfect,” she says, her breathing getting harder. “Please keep going.”

Your worry now quelled, you resume the rougher massage, much to Coco’s delight. Her hooves no longer sit neatly by her sides, but are instead against the mattress as if she’s trying to push herself more into your grip. You get the idea, now pushing even harder against her, making her moan even louder.

“Oh goodness, that’s amazing…” she groans.

Your confidence and smile are building again, but you still wonder if you can do more for her. “I want to be more generous, Coco,” you say to her. “Teach me how. What should I do?”

“Lower,” she moans out.

There is no hesitation at all. Your hooves start lower on her back, pushing and rolling up to her shoulders. You work in big ovals on either side of her, up her spine, squeezing her shoulder, then back down. She lays limp again, letting you do all the work as she enjoys, just as it should be at the moment. Taking a closer look you notice a bit of drool spilling out her open mouth onto the pillow. You promise not to let her look of fragility fool you again if she finds this much pleasure in such treatment.

The more you go on, the more it makes sense. Coco is a stronger pony than most give her credit for, even herself. The courage to stand up to her horrible mentor to do the right thing against her own career. She could handle anything. You continue on, free to press and grip as much as you please.

It’s so nice to see Coco getting this much enjoyment. It feels your heart with passion which beats it through your body and driving you to make her feel even better. This must be the power of generosity. It feels so good to give and you want to give more and more.

You lean down and kiss the back of her neck. She shivers as you gently peck your way across to her cheek. Looking close, you see that she is absolutely flushed red. You feel every quivering breath as you trace your muzzle up and down her cheek and neck, leaving little loving nips as you go.

“Do you want more?” you ask in a whisper next to her ear.

After a couple breaths, she simply repeats the word ‘yes’ over and over in her panting.

You readjust yourself as quickly as you can as to not keep Coco waiting. Leaning over her, you sit on your hindlegs just to either side of her. You rub up and down almost the full length of her back, even still going up over and squeezing the shoulders. You stick close to the middle, knowing the anatomy of the earth pony and remembering you have more nerves around your spine than other species.

Her breathing starts to become more regular as you continue. You can’t tell if this is a good sign or not. She’s not moaning anymore, although the occasional squeak comes from running up her back. After a while, she turns her head to look at you expectantly.

“Is this, um, is this okay?” you ask, a bit surprised that she’s calmed down. You thought she really liked the back rub. Is there something you’re doing wrong?

You stop as she leans against your hooves. Reaching up towards your face, she tries to stretch herself towards you. However, where you’re sitting makes it hard for her to touch. Instead, she waves her hoof signalling you to lean closer. As you do, as soon as she can reach the back of your head, she tries to pull you closer.

Tries, but fails. The surprise makes you freeze in place and your position keeps her from leaning all the way up. Eventually, she lets go, falls back, and signals with her hoof again to lean closer.

You bend down until you’re almost laying on top of her. “What would you like, Coco?” you ask.

She again wraps her hoof around the back of your head. Only this time, she succeeds in pulling you into a kiss. This kiss is different from the others, more aggressive and insistant. Instead of pressing your lips delicately together, she seems as if she’s trying to move them. After a few seconds, just at the point the last kiss ended, you feel something else poke at your mouth.

Her tongue manages to snake past your lips and gums, sliding on top of your own. It has a faint taste of mint from earlier. You lift up your own tongue and join hers in the exchange, sliding and twisting with each other between your mouths.

A bit late, but you finally get the message. This is what she wanted; you’ll be happy to oblige. Wrapping what hooves you can around her, you resume what you can of the back massage from this position. Your other hoof can only travel up and down her side, or what parts your body isn’t in the way of. Rubbing in circles and occasionally up and across to squeeze her shoulder, this starts getting the moaning reaction from her again.

Her tail is now waving from side to side. You can feel it brush up against you, its long silky strands tickling your hind leg.

It’s getting a little hard to keep your pose over Coco like this, a soreness building in your shoulders and back. Easing up for a moment, you slide your hindlegs over for a more comfortable position. However, you accidentally put it down on her tail as it sways. As soon as her tail swings and pull taut against where you have it pinned on the bed, she lets out a little squeal into your mouth.

The tail, where the extra cluster of nerves in the spine of an earth pony ends. It can have a wide variety of effects, ranging from pain to pleasure, so you lift your leg out of fear of hurting her.

She breaks the kiss, her tongue hanging out of her mouth for a moment. Staring intensely at you, she simply nods her head before leaning in to resume caressing your tongue with hers. You think you know what that means.Taking a chance, you slide off her a little bit so you can reach down below. Her smooth tail is still waving back and forth, but you manage to take it near the base. Without moving another muscle in your arm, you wait for some sign of approval.

Coco gives a hum into your mouth, almost impatiently. She starts twisting her own flank to pull her tail against your hoof. With that, you give her a tug and she vocalizes another little cry. Slowly pulling and increasing the tension gradually causes her to moan louder than she had before.

You have to reach under your own body, but you bring your other hoof and start rubbing up and down what you can of her back again. You’re only able to reach from the middle of her spine up to her shoulder, but you try to make it work. Squeezing her shoulder and slowly pulling her tail in unison makes her continuously moan and shift herself underneath you.

She’s still pulling her tail against your grip, so you increase your strength a little bit every time. With each tug, Coco gets a little more heated in her kiss. Her moans steadily grows louder and louder as you continue this pattern. The hoof around your head pulls you in as hard as she can, forcing your lips together in a strange mixture of crushing and thrill. Her chest is heaving as she increases in volume, her hind legs starting to writhe together.

Pulling her tail almost as hard as you can in this position, her entire body begins shaking and her back arcs upward. What starts as a groan simply becomes a long, hot breath into your mouth as her tongue becomes rigid. She stays like this for several seconds until she collapses.

Her grip on your head lets go and your tongues fall out of each other mouths. Her eyes are closed and you think you see something like tears forming in the sides of them. Her body lays down and her tail falls limp in your hoof.

“Are you alright?” you ask.

She slowly nods, not even opening her eyes. Her face is almost completely red and her mouth is one big smile. Weakly, she puts a hoof on your shoulder and tries to slide her way out from under you. Lifting yourself up, you lay down next to her, assuming your activities were done. You’re a little sad, she seemed to have been having the time of her life and you wanted to keep going. Still, maybe it’s for the best. Your limbs are starting to get sore from overexertion.

She snuggles against you and tries to wrap as many hooves around you as possible. One over your shoulder, one around your back, one over your hind legs, and a hoof that lightly kicks you in the shin a couple times before giving up. You wrap your own hooves around her as well, using care to place your own hindleg past hers.

However, as you do, you feel something in the sheets. Something wet, sticky, and warm. The smell of sweat and something else starts filling the room. Taking your leg back to snuggle it against hers, you think you know what it is. You start blushing, and a smile works its way onto your face as well.

You notice Coco is already out, snoring softly against your chest. A shiver runs up your own spine, seeing the work of your generosity. You want to give her so much more.

But it can wait until tomorrow...

~~~~~~

You awaken to a noticeable lack of weight. Opening a single eye, you discover that the pony you were sharing the bed with is now absent. For a moment you consider staying in bed, but eventually you decide to lean upwards, forcing your creaking bones and aching muscles into an awkward sitting position. Eyes unfocused, you take a moment to collect yourself.

Through your squinted eyes, you note that the room is bathed in a dull orange light. The traffic sounds light and you can hear a bird chirping on the windowsill. Glancing at the clock, you see you’ve woken up before your alarm. Much earlier.

A small clatter from the other room gets your attention. Another glance at the clock confirms it. You’re awake before Coco has left for the day.

On the list of things you need to tell Coco, ‘Good morning’ should probably be included. The prospect of seeing her before she goes to work gives you some incentive to force your groggy limbs out of bed and forward. Trotting through the bedroom door, you listen for any more sounds. There’s a loud thump followed by a faint buzz in the kitchen.

Picking up the pace, you go down the hall. Passing by the bathroom, you see some remnants of steam against the wall and mirror — It’s understandable after last night.

Turning the corner, you see Coco in front of the refrigerator. Her blue mane is neatly combed, adorned with her red blossom. Her collar is neatly folded around her neck. She has the milk carton, pouring some milk in a bowl of cereal on the counter. Turning back, she puts the milk neatly in the fridge again. She hasn’t noticed you, yet.

You clear your throat quietly to get her attention without scaring her. She turns around slowly and her eyes open in surprise.

“Good morning,” you say.

“What are, um…” she stutters. “What are you doing up so early?” she asks.

“I just, well, woke up,” you answer. “Heard you in here and wanted to see you before you left for the theater.”

She smiles. “But it’s so early,” she responds, shaking her head. “You couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours’ sleep.”

“Well, neither have you,” you reply, stepping forward to get her a nuzzle. “Besides, I said wanted to spend more time with you. How about we have breakfast together?”

“I-I, um…” She sighs contently at your touch. “That sounds just fine.” You look up into her clear blue eyes, standing out more against the blush in her face. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time, though.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “Any cereal left?”

“Yes.”

As you approach the counter, you say, “Let me get a bowl.”

You open the cupboard above the sink and grab the red bowl off the stack of plastic dishes. Shutting the door, you see Coco offering you the box of Alfalfa-Bits.

“Thanks,” you reply, tilting the box to pour the contents into the bowl

Opening the drawer below you, the silverware inside rattle against each other. Reaching for a spoon and elastic band, you hear Coco open the refrigerator again. Looking over, you see she has the carton of milk again and is holding it out for you.

You hold up a hoof to decline. “No thanks.”

“No milk?” she asks, surprised.

“Nah. Sweet and crunchy never tasted good with milk to me,” you explain while picking up your bowl in a hoof, “and the drippy, squishy sogginess. Bleugh.”

Walking over to the small table, you pull aside a chair. Sitting down, you realize you probably should have offered to get Coco’s seat for her. Wondering for a moment if you should get back up, but that’d probably be even more awkward. You wrap the elastic band with the spoon around your hoof.

She takes a seat across the table from you as you take your first bite of sugary substance. Not a word spoken, she just stares off into space as she prepares her utensil as well.

You swallow the cereal in your mouth before speaking. “Something wrong?”

“Do you really like your cereal without milk?” she asks.

Taking another bite, you shrug as a reply.

“Wow…” she breathes out. “How long have we known each other?”

You bring a hoof to your chin to think. She was working with Suri for a long while, so...

“That’s something I really should have known,” she says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Whoa, Coco.” You reach a hoof across the small table towards her. “Like you said last night, we lead very different lives. There’s probably a few things you’ve never seen about me.”

“It just seems like something so basic,” she mumbles, swirling her spoon around her cereal.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I bet there’s something about you that I don’t know, yet,” you offer. “Go on, surprise me.”

She takes a bite of her cereal as her gaze falls towards the floor, lost in her thoughts. Scooping another spoonful of cereal into her mouth, she taps the spoon on the side of the cereal bowl. Eventually, she just shakes her head.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something eventually,” you say. “Maybe one of these days, we should—”

You stop as something catches your eye. Coco’s spoon is on the same side facing towards you. As the realization hits you, you see her looking at you with concern.

“Are you left-hooved?”

Her eyes go between you and the spoon in her hoof. “Oh, no, not really. I just like to use different hooves for different things,” she explains. “Have you never noticed me switch hooves before?”

“No, I’ve never noticed,” you reply. “So that means you’re… what’s the word?”

“What word?”

“It means you can use both hooves,” you answer, lifting your hooves in front of you as some sort of demonstration.

“For writing?” she asks.

“Yeah, but for other things, too.”

She pauses and hums in thought. “It begins with ‘am’, I think. ‘Am’ something.”

“This is going to bug me now,” you state, scratching your head.

The two of you are silent for a few seconds. Eventually, a smile grows and she begins to giggle. “Well, to answer your question, I’m really not whatever the word is. I just like using my left hoof for some things.”

You shrug. “Never noticed.”

“We do need to spend more time together,” she concludes.

You nod in agreement as you take another bite of cereal. “How about a date, then?” you suggest.

“Where would we go? We don’t really have a lot of money to spend,” she points out.

A few seconds click away from the clock on the wall. You ponder a couple ideas such as shows or dinner, but the price point doesn’t really make it possible. Coco’s nose is scrunched up a little as she tries to think of something as well.

“We’ll think of something. A nice walk in the park, maybe. Or perhaps we could pull some old board games out of the closet,” you list off.

“Sounds fun,” she responds with a smile. Her eyes drift over to the clock on the wall. “Oh dear, I’m afraid I need to hurry,” she says, picking up the pace with her breakfast.

“Big day?” you ask.

“They just gave the parts for the new stage production,” she replies. “I need to be ready to get everypony’s measurements and prepare the designs.”

“How many plays are you designing costumes for?” There are still bits of half-finished clothing and accessories littered around the living area.

“This is only the third. I like to have multiple projects in a series,” she explains, rolling her hoof. “Complete one set, work on the next, make repairs and changes whenever needed.”

You nod at her explanation, grinning to her diligence. It’s hard to frown at the chipper tone she has for being so busy. It wasn’t too long ago that such a workload would leave her drained and somber, but now that she finds real enjoyment in her work you couldn’t be happier for her.

“What are your plans for the day?” she asks.

“I, um…” You rub the back of your head with a hoof. “I guess try and find something to salvage my own work.”

She doesn’t stop smiling. You raise an eyebrow curiously as she gets up and begins rinsing out her bowl in the sink.

“Well, I’ve given it some thought,” she says. “Do you have any copies of those charts?”

“No,” you reply with a sigh. “The only ones were taken last night.”

“Do you remember them, though?” she inquires.

“Yeah, but not well enough to accurately recreate them,” you admit with a shrug.

She puts her bowl and spoon in the drying rack and steps over towards you. You feel her put a hoof on your shoulder. “Do you remember those times when I would join you?” she asks.

A somber smile spreads on your face. “Times were tougher then,” you mumble, “but I do remember.”

“I remember all the facts and data you shared with me. Everything we saw, you had an explanation for.” She rubs your shoulder, speaking softly and encouragingly. “And the stories you would tell me. The myths and legends surrounding what I never took the time to admire before you.”

You chuckle a bit, glad to have given her some happiness during a dark time.

“Do you know the story since the change?” she asks.

Opening your mouth to reply, you pause a little bit. “Speculation,” you reply. “It’s been ongoing, so we don’t have the full story, yet. We may not even see the end in our lifetime.”

“So somepony had better start recording it,” she states.

“But they have the charts,” you say. “They know everything.”

“They don’t know it like you do.” She wraps her other hoof around you back to your other shoulder. “Can they tell the story or can they only show what they see?”

You think for a moment. Inspiration seems to be flowing into you from the warmth of Coco’s grasp on your shoulders. Theories were already building in your head before the incident, but you never thought they might be worth something.

“You really think ponies would want to read about it?” you ask.

“Only from you,” she says, brushing up against your cheek, “because there’s no possibility those others could tell the story like you could.”

You begin to well up with pride. Maybe Coco is right. You couldn’t be the only one to show it, but you might be the only one to explain it.

“I’m afraid I have to leave now,” she says.

Before she steps away, you turn to plant a little kiss on her cheek. Her blush returns, making her smile wider.

“Thank you, Coco.”

She wraps her hooves around you, pulling you into a hug. Although her position means she’s pretty much hugging you from behind, you reach as best as you can to return the gesture.

“See you later tonight. Will you have something to show by then?” she inquires.

“I hope so,” you reply. “I’ll be working on it today.”

“I look forward to seeing it. Oh, and also…” She takes a hoof off one of your shoulders and leans around to look you in the eye. “About last night.”

“Yeah?” you ask, wondering which direction this could go.

“You were very generous last night,” she states.

You laugh nervously. “I’m learning,” is all you can think to respond with.

“And you did so well,” she replies, patting your back. “But would you like to know something about generosity?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s that, um.” She looks away for a moment before turning back. You notice a redness beginning to spread in her cheeks. “That generosity is — I mean, that it will, uh.” She takes a deep breath. “I-It will be rewarded,” she says, giving a very shaky wink with her blush ridden face before her head sinks down in a fit of chuckles.

You put a hoof around her and join in the chuckling.

“That was, um, supposed to be sexier...” she admits while tapping her hooves together nervously.

“No, that was perfect,” you say, giving her a nuzzle.

She gives a couple more giggles before stepping away. “I’m afraid I have to go. Have a good day.”

“You, too.” Before she gets too far, you add, “I love you.”

She pauses at the front door and looks back, still with some visible blush. “I love you, too.” With that, she steps out and closes the door behind her.

You look down to your half-finished bowl of cereal. Quickly eating the rest in as big of mouthfuls as you can manage, you finish and rinse out your dishes. You put them in the drying rack and quickly jog to your desk that is still covered in loose papers. A sweep of the hoof scoots them away as you find a clean sheet. The typewriter gets dragged over as well as a couple of reference books.

You arrange only a set of paper, an inkwell, and your books — just what you need to get started. This couldn’t wait.

Author's Note

So this was a bit of an experiment. There are a lot of questions and through what you've read, who do you think the 'You' is and what do you think happened that night?

I'd love to see what you come up with!

Big thanks to Cloud Hop and Kody910 for proofreading.