Before you say anything, I don’t have a crush on Rumble. Yes, he’s really awesome and smart but not nerdy-smart and caring, but I don’t have a crush on him. Apple Bloom understands, or at least acts like she does, which is pretty convincing if she’s lying. Makes me kind of wonder what else she’s lying about. But that’s out of the question because she’s sick, and it’s just me and Sweetie Belle at the clubhouse today, and Sweetie doesn’t understand my logic at all. It’s totally logic, by the way. It sounds like something Rainbow Dash would say, and besides, everything Rainbow Dash says is absolutely logical. Anyways, Sweetie doesn’t get that I don’t like Rumble in that way, and now we’re sitting in the clubhouse brainstorming ideas to make him, the colt that I totally don’t like-like, like-like me. Are you good and confused? Because my head hurts.
She’s sitting there with a list on the table and a quill in her mouth, bouncing up and down. “Ideash, ideash,” she trills around the quill. “Do you have any ideash, Scootaloo?”
I decide not to answer. It’s the best answer to give.
Sweetie finally seems to realize that holding a quill in her mouth is uncomfortable and spits it onto the table. Remind me never to touch that again, it’s got her cooties all over it. “How about you buy him stuff? Colts love getting stuff.”
I furrow my brow. “I don’t have any money, Sweetie Belle. And I don’t like-like him.”
She conveniently ignores me. “Then you can make him stuff! Make him clothes!”
“No self-respecting pony likes getting clothes as a gift,” I grumble. She shoots me an annoyed glare, and I realize I had spoken too soon; quickly I back it up with, “unless they’re from your sister. Those are pretty cool, I guess.”
Satisfied, Sweetie turns back to her list, picking up the quill in her mouth again. I groan. Not inwardly, because you can’t really do that without it sounding weird in your head. Luckily she doesn’t hear me. How dense can you get?
Wait, no. Don’t answer that. I feel like somepony could use that line against me in the future.
“Can you make anything?” Sweetie asks, spit getting all over the paper that she hasn’t even used. I cover my eyes. It’s pretty gross.
“A scarf would be stupid for a colt,” I answer her question, still shielding my eyes, “and that’s the only thing I could possibly maybe sew. Can you really do any better?”
“I can make socks,” she responds proudly.
I snort. “Socks?”
Sweetie bites her lip. “What’s wrong with socks?”
“They’re just…they’re not the coolest thing. And even if I was to make Rumble some socks, they wouldn’t be cool. And they have to be really, really cool. Not because I like-like him,” I hurriedly add, “and not because I have a crush on him either, but because he would look good in cool socks.” I blink. “Wait, what?”
Sweetie’s put down the quill again, and I open my eyes to see one word scrawled across the parchment. ‘Socks.’ “I can help you make cool socks,” she chirps, eyes bright.
I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Yeah! Rarity has lots of cool fabric that we can use. She won’t mind, I don’t think. She’s been in an extra good mood lately, so that should help.” Sweetie bounces up and down again, mouth curving upwards into a wide grin. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”
I roll my eyes. “Yup. Making socks for Rumble. ‘Fun.’”
But I can’t quell the rumbling in my stomach. It’s hunger, but it’s a different kind of hunger. Excitement.
The socks are blue and red striped. The back left one is a little shorter than the others, but it’s really hard to tell just looking at it. Sweetie is thrilled with them, and I'm actually kind of happy. They don’t look terrible. They actually look…kinda cool.
But now? Now they look a-Celestia-mazing, on the grey legs of Rumble as he walks away, wings spread proudly and walking with a little skip in his step. I watch him go, wings fluttering with joy, and sigh. He didn’t think I was crazy for giving him socks. Instead, he seemed to rather like them. Who knew? Rumble likes socks. He likes socks that I made. Well, like, 45% made. Sweetie did a lot of the work, but Rumble doesn’t have to know that.
Speaking of Sweetie, she appears behind me, eyes seeming to grin. “He likes them!” she trills.
“I know!” I squeal back, then clap myself on the mouth. I don’t squeal for anypony. Except for maybe Rainbow Dash. But nopony else, I swear! Sweetie notices too, and she grins even wider, with both her mouth and eyes this time.
“Look at you, Scoots!” she sighs, placing a hoof around my shoulder. “You’re all excited that your crush likes your gift!”
“He’s not my crush,” I grumble, stomach flipping upside down at the word. Why did it do that? I must be hungry or sick or dying or something. Funny, because it doesn’t feel like that. In fact, it feels rather the opposite.
“Yes he isssss,” Sweetie taunts, poking me on the nose. “Boop!”
My face flushes against my will. “Stop it,” I moan, turning away from her and shielding my face. She can’t know how red it’s gotten. “You know I don’t like that.”
“I know you like that Rumble likes the socks,” she teases me playfully. “Maybe you can make him a scarf next or something.”
“Next?” I blink.
“Well, duh! You have to make him more, right? Then he’ll notice you, and be impressed by your clinginess!” She frowns, staring off at something behind me. “That’s how it works, right?”
My face is still red; I shake my head. “I need to make him more stuff?”
“If you don’t want to make him more socks, you can make him a scarf,” she points out, still gazing off into the distance.
Make him more socks? It was something I hadn’t considered…but he had seemed pretty happy with his gift, and maybe more would make him more interested in me…not that I wanted him to be interested in me, but, you know, it’s always nice to gain the respect of your fellow classmates, right?
“Is the sewing machine still in the clubhouse?” I ask absentmindedly.
Sweetie Belle nods, a mischievous grin growing on her face.
I spread my wings, trying to ignore my rapidly turning stomach. “Then let’s go get some fabric.”
Day Two of giving Rumble socks. They’re yellow and black this time, like a bee. There’s even the design of a bee on the front right one that looks really, really good. Sweetie Belle made that, but he doesn’t have to know.
Today he hesitates when I walk up to him, slightly breathless and pretty flushed. “Here, Rumble.” I thrust the bag at him and grin lopsidedly, hoping I don’t look uncool, because that wouldn’t be good. “Take them.”
He blinks at me. “Scootaloo, another present?”
“Absolutely.” I flash a smile that probably looks better in my head than it does in real life.
He shrugs – Celestia, he’s cute when he shrugs – and takes the bag, poking his muzzle in like a curious cat. Just another little trait to store away in the back of my mind. Non-creepily. Because I’m not a creeper, am most certainly not a stalker, and have not been keeping a mental list of everything Rumble does and says. Don’t tell Sweetie Belle.
Rumble pulls his face out of the bag, clutching the socks in his mouth. “More socks?” Is that excitement or flat enthusiasm in his voice? Why can’t I tell? Why do I want to know so badly?
“Yes!” I chuckle. “Do you like them?”
He gives me a funny look, but smiles. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool. I like the bee on this one.” He prods the front right sock with his hoof.
I smirk, noticing my face is getting awfully red. “Yup. Made that myself.”
“Cool.”
We stand there awkwardly for a moment, and I find myself staring at his face. He notices too, and looks away. “Well, I’d better get going, but these are pretty impressive…socks. …thanks again, Scootaloo!”
As he turns and trots away, bag in his mouth, I wobble slightly and manage to wave. “No…no problem.”
He’s impressed. He’s really, really impressed.
Celestia, this is actually working. One of Sweetie Belle’s ideas is literally working.
Wobbling around, I yell to the sky, “Sweetie Belle! It’s time to make more socks!”
Day Six of giving Rumble socks.
He’s waiting for me outside the school, in the same spot we’ve met in for the last few days, looking ever-so-slightly annoyed. “Hi, Scootaloo.”
The bag in my mouth is heavy, but I grin nonetheless. Spitting it onto the ground – don’t want to make the same mistake Sweetie did that day with the quill – I nod at him. “Hi, Rumble! I brought you something!”
He doesn’t even have to look at the bag. “More…socks?”
One of my ears twitches. “Yup! They look like chimaeras this time. Swee- I really outdid myself, and I want you to have the finished result!” Eye twitch. Slight push, so the bag is closer to him then it is to me.
Rumble picks it up with one hoof, and doesn’t even bother to look inside. “I’m sure they’re amazing.” He cracks a smile. It’s funny, because when I see that smile on Sweetie Belle or Apple Bloom, it looks like they’re lying through their teeth, but on Rumble, it looks just as genuine as any of his smiles: amazing.
Not that I’m crushing really, really hard on him or anything. He just happens to have a superior smile to pretty much everypony everywhere.
“Listen, Scoots.”
He called me Scoots!
“These are pretty amazing –”
He thinks they’re amazing!
“-but I really don’t need socks. It’s summertime, and it’s too hot to wear them…and nopony ever really wears socks anyways. Not that they aren’t beautiful…”
He thinks they’re beautiful!
“…but I really don’t need any more…”
My mind is spinning, and all I can hear is ‘amazing…beautiful…’ spoken by Rumble. About something that I made. Kind of. But he doesn’t know…and doesn’t have to…because I still made them. Kind of.
“…so, got it?” Rumble smiles at me, really sheepish this time.
I vaguely believe I mumble something among the lines of, “Not-a-crush.” He gives me this scared look, all wide eyed and adorable, before spreading his wings and zipping off, spiraling into the sky.
I watch him go, swallow, and try to still my pounding heart.
More socks. Rumble wants more socks. And by Celestia, I’m going to deliver.
Day Sixteen of giving Rumble socks, and he didn’t even show up. He wasn’t at school today. Apparently he has the Feather Flu, but he was perfectly fine yesterday. That must mean he’s really, really sick, which means I need to give him a get-well present, or maybe five.
My eye twitches. It’s not a crush, I swear. It’s not an obsession, either. I promise. I swear on Rainbow Dash, and she’s really, really trustworthy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her lie before. She should be the Element of Honesty, not Applejack. She would look good with an apple on her neck. Yup, real good. Good like Rumble with an apple on his neck. Rumble would look good with anything on his neck. Or body. Especially socks. He hasn’t been wearing them. I wonder what he’s been doing with them?
Sweetie Belle cautiously prods me in the side. “Scoots, are you alright?”
I blink, whipping my head around. “School is over?”
She nods slowly. “It’s been over for at least an hour. You’ve just been sitting here, mumbling to yourself.”
“Oh.” I stare off into the distance, up at a star that I can’t see. It looks like Rumble. Or maybe Rainbow Dash. Rumble Dash? “Do we have more fabric back at the clubhouse?”
“Scootaloo…” She looks uncomfortable. “Maybe we should stop making socks for Rumble. At first it was cute, but now it’s just kind of creepy.”
“Creepy? I’m not creepy! I’m not stalking him or every day basking in the praise he gives me for you – my – socks! Nope, nope, nope!” My heart is beating way too fast. This can’t be healthy. None of this can be healthy. This obsession is not healthy. I am not healthy.
I am falling into darkness, and at last I see the light.
It looks like Rumble.
When I wake up, he’s standing over me. I don’t even believe it. I have to rub my eyes a few times to make sure I’m not seeing things, and even then I’m still not sure he’s there. Him on one side, Sweetie Belle on the other. Apple Bloom still isn’t here. She must be very sick. Or lying about being sick. She’s a good liar. Did I mention that?
“Scootaloo, are you alright?” Sweet Celestia, he’s talking to me. I’m not sure whether to die of happiness or squeal, which is really unnatural because I don’t squeal for anypony, except maybe Rainbow Dash.
“I…bluh.”
“You passed out in front of the school,” Sweetie Belle whispers, giving me a quick hug. One glance at her reveals her eyes are tear stained and puffy. “I didn’t know what to do, so I had Miss Cheerilee take you back home, and Rumble was already here.”
I rolled over to look at him. He was here, at my house, waiting for me? My heart thumps, and my stomach tingles. Rumble simply sighs. He looks dejected, upset, but certainly not sick. Was he skipping school on purpose?
“Scoots,” he starts, “I can’t accept any more socks from you. Frankly, it’s just getting kind of weird, and I’ve already asked you to stop.” He groans. “More than once.”
My mind is buzzing. “Wait. You have?”
“Yes, Scootaloo, I have.” His voice gets all gentle, and I melt a little on the inside, which is rather embarrassing, even if nopony can see it. I bet Sweetie Belle can sense it. She’s good with that kind of stuff. “And I…I’m pretty impressed by your dedication, I’ll give you that.” He smiles at me, and my melted insides turn to goo. “But…I have one question.”
I breathe in, then out. “Yes?”
“Why me?”
Sweetie Belle puts her hoof to her mouth so fast it makes a loud noise; we both look at her in confusion, but she shakes her head, refusing to say anything. Good old Sweetie. Loyal to the end. Even though her reasoning is totally wrong, and I don’t have a crush on Rumble because crushes are gross and not for cool ponies like me, it’s the thought that counts.
“I…well…” My voice is suddenly really shaky. “I just…I…I…I can’t say. Because you seemed like the kind of pony who would like socks. Hey, look, a butterfly!” In my eager attempt to cause a diversion, I leap up from my bed and feel like my stomach has exploded; hacking up saliva, I turn back to Rumble and Sweetie Belle, smiling sheepishly.
“The type of pony who would like socks?” Rumble seems confused, before bursting out laughing. “Well, you’re kind of right. I like a lot of stuff that isn’t really ‘cool,’ I guess, and your socks are pretty awesome.”
My mind buzzes with joy, but this time I’m not going to let it dull my hearing. “I’m glad you think so.” I smile back at him, before cautiously laughing myself. “And I’ll stop giving you socks. To be honest, I was getting tired of stitching the same lines over and over!”
Rumble frowns. “The same lines? But you make all those different designs!”
Sweetie Belle yelps, and my face begins to burn. “Actually…well, that wasn’t really me.”
Rumble smiles again. “I thought as much. You’re pretty awesome, Scootaloo, but I don’t see you as much of a sewer.”
My entire body bursts into happy tingles. “You think I’m awesome?”
“Yeah.” He looks away, and is that red I see on his cheeks, or am I dreaming? Somepony pinch me. Luna, never wake me up! “Yeah, you’re pretty great. Maybe we can get to know each other more?”
Swallowing back the squeal that’s about to erupt out of me, I nod. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”
Sweetie Belle squeaks in delight; I shoot her a glare and she goes silent once again. Unfortunately, Rumble seems to take that as a cue to leave; waving and calling goodbyes, he stands at the edge of the door, ready to depart, before I call out to him.
“Wait!”
He turns back to me, smiling. “Yeah, Scoots?”
No, I don’t have a crush on him. No, I’m not fighting back a squeal that he maybe, maybe might like me back. No, I’m not already thinking of ways to have Rainbow Dash arrange playdates with us via his older brother Thunderlane.
But yes, there is one more thing I have to know.
“Rumble…what do you think about scarves?”
Author's Note
Thanks to Fernesh for the prompt that inspired this short fic. 
