Rarity Eats Your Sandwich
It's noon, and the light from outside is shining into your kitchen. It gleams off the tile through the one window, making the room decently light, though not quite light enough to comfortably see. You flick on the thin light switch and you no longer have to squint. The stove sits on the other side of the room, the counter wrapping around its perimeter, maybe three feet from the wall. Its 'stone' design is a blue peppered with darkened shades of that same color. In some areas, though, you can see the finish starting to peel, revealing the ugly plywood beneath. Above and below are cupboards and drawers, respectively, save it the storage under the sink. These are threateningly low, making you have to duck your head every time you want to clean off the thin strip of wall that always attracts the worst of spiders. However, you have cleaned earlier today, so you're feeling quite comfortable with the look, with no spiderwebs in sight.
You make your way toward the cupboards at the opposite corner of the room. You grab the handles and open them, coming with a loud squeak. You immediately stop. Crap! you think. Rarity's still asleep. You shoot your eyes around, letting go of the handle and cupping your ear, trying to catch any signs of stirring. Thankfully, you don't hear anything. "Phew..." you sigh. She's quite feisty when she's woken up from her beauty sleep.
Shaking the thought from your head, you turn your attention to the contents of the cupboard. There are small cylindrical containers of flour, salt, and sugar—the sugar disappearing rapidly, thanks to your roommate—and small boxes of snacks that you just can't find interest in today. But since it's noon, and you didn't have anything real to eat today, you take out a small loaf of bread in a plastic sack that reads "Sugar Cube Corner Bakery".
You set the bread down—gently!—and start unwrapping the twist tie. Your mind starts to wander, thinking more and more about your roommate Rarity. She is nice, though busy as a bee and really easy to make... well, not-so-nice. You find her somewhat attractive, but you don't know her well enough to set feeling in stone; it's only the first weekend of college.
Once you're done untying, and mostly thinking, you lay out your bre—plate. You grab a plate and lay out your slices of bread on it. Your mouth waters as you think of what to put on it; mushrooms, those high quality rose petals, maybe both... with, of course, your favorite type of cheese—pepperjack. Your mouth waters more thinking about the heavenly ambrosia. Yep, you think, definitely pepper jack.
You grab the rose petals, the mushrooms, and the pepper jack from the icebox in the corner to the right, the first one you see when you come into the kitchen, and set them out. You sprinkle some rose petals on the bottom piece of bread. Then you grab a knife and slice the mushrooms to a thin—but not too thin—cut, and add those to the yummy stack. Then you add the frosting on the cake, if you will: the two slices of pepper jack one on top of the other, on either side of the mushrooms.
You take the second bread slice, and place it atop the topmost slice of cheese, making the most perfect sandwich you've ever made. But, the indulging of this sandwich will have to wait. All of a sudden, you feel a burning in your nether regions. You've got to pee. In fact, you really need to pee. Cursing under your breath, you skip to the restroom, your hoofsteps stuttering due to the potty dance. You make your way to a dimly lit hall and take a left, slamming the door behind you into a white restroom, the light left on since last night, for some reason.
Your mind travels once again to Rarity behind the white door to the restroom. Does she like pepper jack? you think, raising an eyebrow. Because, for some reason, everypony I know doesn't even know what pepper jack is. You smile. If she likes pepper jack, or at least knows what it is, then she's the most awesome pony I've ever met. For you, she is already sorta awesome, as she made an awesome knit sweater in as little as two days. And she maybe worked only six hours those days.
Finishing expected business in the restroom, you open the door again, and return to the kitchen. From somewhere in the dorm, there is a shuffling sound. Rarity must've been awake, though that... that isn't the direction of the rooms. Curiously, you peek your head around the corner, and hear muffled sounds of pure delight. You scan the room even more closely, and your eyes widen.
The plate you had set down was empty. And Rarity turns around, purple, curled mane relatively messy, along with her pearly white coat, but on her chin, there are crumbs of wheat bread, the same bread you used to prepare your sandwich.
The smile on those puffed-out cheeks turns straight.
"Rarity..." you mumble, stunned. "You...?"
She swallows the sandwich, looking downright uncomfortable while doing so. "I'm sorry..." she manages, adding in a slight, "...darling."
"You ate my sandwich?" You continue, dumbstruck.
She nods, frowning. "Yes. I'm so sorry, darling... it's just... well..."
"Well?" You bite, the reality of the situation starting to make you annoyed.
"It... it was pepper jack..." She says those two words as if echoing a memory.
You gear up to yell, but you stop yourself. A, you think, it's silly. B... she likes pepper jack. You take in a deep breath, managing to let the bittersweet situation sink in. "Well, I hope you liked it," you say, trying to keep any left over anger out of your voice.
She looks somewhat shocked. "Um..." she mumbles. "Yeah, it was good..." She swoops her hoof across the tile, her eyes following the line traced. "Look," she says. "If I make you a sandwich, can we call a truce?"
You raise an eyebrow. You weren't exactly expecting this, but you smile somewhat. "Sure," you say. "I'll even show you how I did—"
In a flurry of hooves and glowing auras, the same, nearly picture perfect sandwich appears on a plate. What isn't picture perfect was actually made better.
She has photographic memory. She's a keeper, you think.
And thus, a truce was drawn between you and Rarity. Though this will happen many times in the future, it almost becomes tradition, she always out-beautifying you every time you do it.
Author's Note
I actually do not know if mushrooms are good on sandwiches.
But pepper jack's delicious.
