Opposites Attract

The sound of the bell startled Babs out of the gravity well of Button’s burnt-sienna eyes as did Button out of the vacuum of Babs’ chartreuse orbs. They could hear the collective moans of the class as they were drawn closer to two more hours of a Foalday afternoon that could be spent on a multitude of other activities . . . especially ones that didn’t involve polynomials, or the history of Equestria. Button got up to join the rest of their class as they walked the green-mile to the education grounds when he felt a tug on his tail. He turned to see Babs with a bracey smile, beckoning him to stay. “C’mon, Babs, we gotta get back to class”

Her smile turned mischievous and she answered, “Do we? I was thinkin’ we could, y’know, cut class and go do somethin’” She was pained with a novel desire to be with this colt.

He looked back into her gleaming eyes and he could see just how bad she wanted to skip class. Button, being the type please a filly at the cost of his own being, obliged. He smiled and held out a hoof “I’d love to.”

His father, was a peice of shit who, luckily enough, is six feet below the surface, in a box two hundred miles away. When he was alive, Milano, Gibson, and Button all felt his drunken wrath. Button and his older brother, Gibson, had their fair share of beatings and name-callings, but none so much as their mother. This hardship and pain forged a unique respect for mares in the eyes of Button. He resented those who disrespected, harmed, and abused them.

She could barely contain her feelings for this newfound flame of hers, but she managed for the sake of those lips. Oh those soft, pillowy lips. “C’mon, let’s go get some ice cream or somthin’.”

Button crushed his dying cig on the tree beside him and tossed the butt aside. “I’m down. Let’s go.” They quickly collected their things before absconding through the wall of trees that separated the schoolyard and an adjacent neighborhood.

They soon emerged onto Saddle Street, which was the average suburban street of Ponyville: a block of five houses long and two wide, each house robbed of privacy by the proximity to their neighbors.  “Alright, where to now?” asked Button as he surveyed the street, devoid of all ponies except for a few housewives sitting on porches, watching their toddlers play, or reading a magazine with spiked tea in hoof.

“Sugarcube Corner,” she pointed to the left “it’s over that way a few blocks.” She sped to a trot with Button in pursuit (possibly in pursuit of that jiggly ass of hers). They soon reached the heavy double doors of Sugarcube Corner. Button held the door for Babs like a true gentlecolt.

“After you, m’lady” He gave a slight bow as Babs entered.

“You’re too kind.” She giggled and gave a quick scan of the place. She had her eyes set on the booth in the back corner: the makeout booth. It was dimly lit and had countless hearts and initials carved into the table and cracked vinyl seats, etched there by young couples and nostalgic adults alike. The restaurant was empty excluding the sole staff member, Pinkie Pie. Perfect for romantic ice cream snack.

They reached their destination of the “Makeout Booth” when the painfully pink mare at the register bounded across the counter with unparalleled enthusiasm.“Hiya! What can I get for ya two lovebirds today?”

It made both Button and Babs blush at the thought of being considered a couple.

“N-n-n-n-n-no, we’re not a couple!” Babs said. The word “yet” seemed to pop into her mind as well as the feelings that nopony else gave her except Button. She rarely giggled, she never blushed, but nopony ever made her feel this special, even without realizing it.

“Yeah, we aren’t dating . . . are we?” He turned to Babs with a questioning look on his face.

She was visibly shaking “I-I don’t know. You’re cool an’ all . . . and p-pretty cute . . . and really nice . . .” He voice trailed off into a mumble of nervous embarrassment as Button and Pinkie observed her with a fifty-fifty mix of concern and curiosity.

Button reached out a hoof and placed it atop Babs’, giving it a slight squeeze. “Babs,” Babs turned to him, looking him straight in the eyes, “d-do you have a crush on me?” Babs could only nod in silence and soon to be defeated embarrassment. He smiled softly and looked her in the eyes, “Good, ‘cause I’ve been crushing on you for the last twenty minutes. You stood up for me when nopony else would. You got balls, and I like that about you.”

Babs was about to explode with a potent mixture of estrogen, excitement, and a cute colt who just admitted to liking her back. The blast decimated her self control, and she pulled him in for a kiss. He gave no resistance and their lips met in a sloppy, wet kiss. Copious amounts of saliva spilled from their mouths as their tongues wrestled between one another's teeth. They broke the kiss, gasping for air. “How *huff huff* was that?” panted Babs.

The dumb-guy smile plastered across Button’s face answered enough questions, but still, an answer came . . . barely “In- *huff* credible *huff*"

“I’ll just leave you two ‘not-lovebirds alone’.” She hopped off through the batwing doors of the kitchen possibly to make a first-kiss sundae for two, or to spy on them. Either way, they didn’t care. They liked each other and could give two fucks less if anypony knew.

With a mile-wide grin stretched across her face Babs asked, “After we get somethin’ to eat, ya’ wanna head back to my place to mess around a bit?” She had a salacious twang spliced with her Manehattan accent: a true privilege to hear such a sound.

Button had an odd way with words, but always managed to say just the right thing. “What constitutes your definition of messin’ around?” They could only keep their straight faces for so long as the dire need to burst out laughing was imminent.

She drew closer to him and whispered into his ear, “Nothin’ too naughty.” Again, giggles of delight ensued.

Button had never had a filly like him before. He had tons of crushes being that he found beauty and desirable qualities in almost every filly he came across, but none so much as Babs. Sure she was on the larger side, but he didn’t care, it made her who she was. She was tough as nails and had bigger stones than most colts. The most beautiful thing about her though, was that she stood up for him even when she would be made fun of too.

Pinkie came out from the kitchen with what could be described as a mound of ice cream. “On the house seeing that you’re, like, twelve, and probably have no money!”

Button corrected her with a rather perturbed, “Fourteen”, but to no avail, she was off and that was that. He inspected the bowl of ice cream, a multicolored hill constructed with scoops of vanilla, strawberry, black cherry, and chocolate, topped with two cherries and a mint sprig. “Damn . . . that’s a lot of ice cream.”

Babs plucked one of the spoons from its creamy clutches and took a bite. “Well let’s get started” She scooped another spoonful of of strawberry and presented it to Button. “Try it, it’s pretty fuckin’ good.” Button leaned in and took her up on the offer, savoring the fruity flavor.

“Damn that’s good!” He smirked as he drew a spoon of his own from the delicious heap.

<<< Twenty Minutes Later >>>

Babs had a painfully full belly as did Button, but the conversation continued, “If Rumble and his friends ever give you shit again, tell ‘em I’ll kick their asses to Tinnemare square and back, twice.” She cracked her hooves and sported a mischievous smirk to make her point stick.

It made Button feel safe knowing that he had somepony other than his mom watching his back. “Thanks, I appreciate that you’d do that for me.” He propped his head up with a foreleg to get a better view of his new companion. “If anypony gives you shit, tell ‘em to kiss their ass goodbye.”

Babs snorted at the idea of Button whaling on somepony and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, but I can take care of myself.” She realized what she just said might have hurt his feeling, so she made a proposal, “Tell ya’ what, If either of us get called names or made fun of, we’ll kick their sorry asses, together.” Her sincerity was bolstered by wrapping a foreleg around Button’s shoulders and giving them a squeeze. He nuzzled her neck, tickling her with his breath, an act that caused her to writhe in her seat.

“Ready to go?” He pulled out of her grip to face her directly.

Giving a rub to her stomach, Babs said, “Sure, we gotta work off these calories somehow.” She nudged Button in the ribs to give him a better understanding of what type of exercise she had in mind. Heavy petting, groping, and a jaw-dislocating make out session in the privacy of her own room.

Babs eyed Button’’s cute butt as he scooted out of the cramped booth. It wasn’t fat and squishy, nor was it tight and muscular: it was the perfect median between firm and soft.   He left a three bit tip beneath the empty bowl of ice cream before heading towards the door. He again held the door for her and asked as she walked passed him, “So where do you live?”

She pointed town a long dirt road and said, “Sweet Apple Acres. I live there with my cousins and grandma. Everypony should be gone with AJ and Big Mac out in the orchard, and Granny Smith visiting her friends in Foalida.” She put a hoof to her face cursing “Ahh shit! I forgot Applebloom is having Sweetie and Scoots over tonight for a sleepover. My room’s right above her’s in the attic, so we’ll have to keep it down. Make ‘em think I’m not there.”

“I’ll have you know, I maxed out my stealth stats in Covenant of the Damned” He struck a pose that’d suggest he was about to spin-kick sompony jaw. “Keeyah!”

Babs put a hoof over her mouth to keep from laughing, but he was just too much. “Whatever, Jean Claude Van Dorke”

“Shut your mouth before I kick you onto a combine and turn it on!” He did a martial display of chops, punches, and kicks, emulating the fight at the end of Universal Stallion. “Button Mash slays too hard at karate!” He too was giggling as he made an ass out of himself for the amusement of Babs.

“S-stop before I piss myself laughin’!” She held her stomach and dropped to her knees.

He did one last high kick before slowing to a stop as requested. He helped her up off the ground and, with a foxy smile asked, “Moist yet?” In hindsight, he wouldn’t of said this, for it delayed their journey another minute and a half with the boisterous laughter of Babs holding the leash.

“C’mon, shithead, we’ve got stuff to do” She took him by the hoof and led the way, a dirty grin stretched across her face.