Opposites Attract

by Chris Redfoal

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Romance, Comedy
Length: 6464

Babs saves Button from being bullied, and he starts crushing on her.

In the midst of being humiliated in front of the entire class by Rumble, Button is saved by Babs Seed. After seeing his crush, Sweetie Belle, amongst the crowd, he sets his sights on his savior. Their opposites attract and are drawn together. He's a dork. She's a badass. What keeps these two so intimate?

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-01-03 05:41:25 UTC

Button's New Crush

Button was sitting in class pondering what he was going to say to Sweetie Belle this afternoon during recess. He had been crushing on her for the two months that he’s lived here and decided he wasn’t going to just sit there and do nothing. He was always shy and quiet, and at times, afraid of his peers. Everywhere he went, there were always foals who found it funny to pick on him.

Two minutes to recess and he was already sweating bullets, clenching his jaw, and tapping his hoof sporadically on the floor. He was a nervous wreck. The ten single syllable words burnt into his skull played over and over like a broken record: “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Cheerilee had roused the students from their independent reading time: a half hour of doodling knights, zombies, jedis, and almost anything imaginable whilst trying to look busy for Button, and actual dreaded work for the other foals. He was the epitome of underachiever as he was, in fact, quite bright for a colt his age. Cheerilee knew this as he would often stay after class to talk about anything from the evolutionary history of crocodilians to future medical advancements. She knew that one day he’d do great things and see the world around him. If only the other foals knew.

“Children, as you all know, there’s a school dance next Saddleday, but you need this permission slip signed by a parent or guardian.” She stood up and leaned against the door with a stack of orange notecards that most likely had a description of the dance, appropriate dress code, and a little spot for a signature. “These are due next Maneday, so get these signed by then.”

All of the foals who were anxious to get outside had already packed up their things and were headed towards the door where Cheerilee was waiting. Those who didn't think ahead were saving pages, finishing paragraphs, and putting things away. The action of the single file line reminded Button of bullets in a clip: Cheerilee gives a foal a slip, firing them out to play; the hot gases of excitement pushing back the slide and another foal was right there in the chamber.

Button was the last to stand up being that his desk was covered with drawings of desolate wastelands combed for supplies by survivors, or a standoff between a Jedi and a Sith lord, conjured up by his own imagination. He said nothing as he placed his saddlebags upon his back and headed for the door.  Miss Cheerilee handed him a slip and asked, “So you plan on going to the dance, Button?”

Button wanted more than ever to say with confidence “yes” ,but he settled for a much more timid “Probably not.”

“Oh . . .  but there’s always time to change your mind.” She shot him a smile which he returned with a casual nod.

When Button finally got outside, he made a beeline for one of the picnic tables to get spiffed up and go over what he was going to say a few times. Upon the halfway mark of the swing set, Button was nailed in the back of the head with a water bottle. He turned to the direction of the throw and saw almost the entire class standing behind him. Among them, a unicorn by the name of Sweetie Belle. It didn't take long for him to figure out who threw it: Rumble. Rumble was the quarterback for the hoofball team and a star runner on the track team. He was fantasized about by fillies, envied by the colts, and hated by Button.

This wasn't the first time Rumble had done something like this. On his third day of school, Rumble spit in Button’s milk and waited for him to finish before telling him. That earned him the title of “Spit Guzzler” Two weeks after that, Rumble snatched Button’s JoyBoy and lead him to the field behind the schoolyard where Featherweight and Shady Daze were waiting with buckets full of golf balls and small rocks. After that, Button knew not to fall for any of his tricks.

The crowd was pointing and laughing while Button stood and watched. Rumble called out “Maybe that wouldn't hurt so bad if you wore your retard helmet today!” The mass of foals laughed even harder at his obviously planned comment. “Is widdle baby gonna cwy?” All of his classmates were trying to get a better look at his face as they began to surround him. Button knew that this would be a big fiasco, so he was mentally preparing himself for the barrage of insults when somepony spoke up.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE! SHOW’S OVER!” It was Babs Seed, the school badass who took shit from nopony. The foals stood silent for a moment before somepony just couldn't keep their mouth shut.

“Look! Babs is protecting her sissy coltfriend!” The amalgamated mass of foals laughed even harder after yet another dumb comment excreted from lips of Rumble.

Babs knew what it was like to be bullied . . . and to be one. After the incident with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon two summers prior, Babs swore to herself that she'd stop all acts of bullying that she saw even at the cost of her own well being. She barely knew Button, but she knew him well enough to know that he didn't deserve what he was getting. She had only spoken to him once before, only saying "S'cuse me"

The crowd continued to shake with laughter. Babs turned to Button and said, “C’mon, these shitheads won’t let up.” He was still frozen in embarrassment, forcing Babs to hold his hoof and lead him away as the other foals continued to laugh. Albeit the action added fuel to the fire, they were soon behind the bushes at the edge of the schoolyard. They sat down to rest and eat lunch. “They really topped themselves this time. I mean, they do dumb shit like this all the time, but not to this level.” Button silently nodded in agreement. Babs pulled out a pack of Marelboros and offered one to Button which he respectfully declined. She grabbed the filter in her lips and lit the end with her signature Zebro lighter. She took a long first drag and blew the smoke into his face causing him to wince.

He got comfy on the ground and reconsidered. He sat back up and quietly said, “On second thought, gimme a cig.” He held out his hoof to Babs who was glad to oblige. “Thanks” He said, holding out his muzzle for a light. He took a long drag off his cigarette and pulled it down to his lungs; a real pro. He exhaled a plume of smoke through his nose much like Vincent Prance from a '50's horror flick.

“No problem.” She sat back and took another drag off her cigarette. She scooted in closer to him and rolled to her side, pivoting her elbow up to support her head much like a model on the cover of a magazine. “I wouldn't expect a pony like you to smoke" She said with another long drag.

“There's a lot of things ponies don't know about me.” He gave her a cheeky grin and rolled over to face her, muzzles only inches apart.

Babs smiled back at him "Like what?" She was dying to know what this rather cute colt who was, more or less, indebted to her was  about to say.

"Well for starters, I can play bass guitar"

"Sexy"

Button giggled at the statement before continuing. "Chicks dig my mad bass skills" He nonchalantly tapped the ash off his cigarette, trying not to laugh at his own feigned arrogance.

PPPFFFFFFFTTTTT!! Babs couldn't help but laugh at his clever statement. "Damn Button, you're funny as fuck!" At that moment, something inside Babs made a realization: she was beginning to crush on Button. Was it because he was cute with his bacon mane and that well kept coat of his, or how he was plagued by adorable little idiosyncrasies. Maybe those soft, kissable lips of his. She didn't know, but the mystery of this eccentric colt excited her.

"Thanks, brah" He did his best to sound like an e-vaping douche who thinks he's so cool; said action causing Babs' sides to hurt with laughter. Button too made a realization: he was crushing on Babs. Was it her thick Manehattan accent, or her take-no-shit attitude that caught his eye. Maybe it was the fact she had stood up for him even when it meant that she'd get shit from the rest of the class too. It might of been her jiggly ass that squished out from beneath her when she sat down. Who knew?

Bonding

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.

Flowers in the Attic: Dirty, Filthy Flowers

The attic had this musty smell that Button couldn’t quite put his hoof on. Sort of like an old basement or an antique shop. While the rest of the house was clean and tidy, Babs’ room was devoid of this aspect. Her room consisted of a pull-out couch, a vanity littered with various beauty products, a full sized mirror, and a wardrobe. It seemed odd to Button that a pony like Babs owned so much make up. It seemed odd that she was into him, too.

“Sorry, my room’s a bit of a shithole.” She sat down on the stool and sifted through the numerous items scattered across the vanity’s tabletop. She pointed to the couch and said “Find somethin’ to do while I make myself look like a slut.”

Button was flattered that she, of all ponies, wanted to look good for his viewing pleasure. He sat on the couch and considered playing his JoyBoy before noticing the CD player sitting on the side table next to the bed. He shuffled through one of the numerous stacks of CD’s and found the perfect song to set the mood. The Downward Spiral: Deluxe Edition. “Mind if I play some music?”

Without looking away from the mirror, she replied “Knock yourself out. I don’t got much to listen to, but go ahead.”

Button mumbled to himself “I’ve already got what I’m looking for.” He opened the disc tray and removed a special, remastered edition of Violator. He placed the new CD into the tray and slid it back in. Depeche Mare, Nine Inch Noses, Maneless Self Indulgence: a colt of refined tastes. This taste for music was inherited by his mother, who blasted music when she and Button did chores.

Though “World My Eyes” would be up there on songs to play while making out, his mind made up: track five. It was the filthiest, most dirtiest song he knew. She’d love it.

Babs swiveled around to show Button in her new, sluttier look. She had on a little mascara and some dull-pink lipstick. “How do I look?” She bit her lower lip and batted her half-lidded eyes a few times. She stood up and struck a provocative pose.

“You look hot.” He leaned over and hit the “Skip Song >>” button a few times before landing upon his target: Closer. Sitting down on the folded in couch- bed, he watched Babs drew closer as the slow, steady beat started up.

Babs straddled him cowgirl style and got comfy on his lap for what would she assumed would be a long make-out session. Their eyes met and self control seemed to exit their minds along with the previous events of the day. She had only really known this colt for two hours, and here she was, in her room, pinning him by the crotch with her haunches. He wasn’t the wimpy dork he appeared to be to the average onlooker.

Button took a moment to reflect on the last two hours: a gorgeous, full-figured filly stood up for him, cheered him up with a cigarette, invited him to cut class to get ice cream with her, became a couple, and made out. Currently, he was straddled by said filly cowgirl style with the filthiest song he knew playing in the background. In his fourteen years and ten months of life, Button had never had a fillyfriend, but here he was; two hours flat.

Babs’ hips were churning rhythmically against his lap when she asked, “Y’ready?”

“Yeah” He was grinning so wide that his face began to feel numb. Their mouths met, sending a surge of lust through both ponies. Button ran his tongue behind Babs’ top row of teeth while she swirled hers between his teeth and lower lip. They’d wrap their tongues around one another’s, stroking the other’s. They’d explore their mouths with profound thoroughness.

The moans and excited giggles emanating from the room would prompt the suspicion of anypony below, luckily enough, nopony was home to find out . . . for now.

[youtube=http://youtu.be/IGwqJZWow3A]

<<>>

They summoned the last of their dying strength and energy, to convert the couch to a queen-sized bed. Babs lazily tossed the cushions aside while Button grabbed the crossbar and yanked it up to reveal the first half of the mattress, tucked neatly into the seat. Button flipped the top half of the block over once more as Babs pulled a locking bar out to use as the legs. All they needed now were some blankets and a pillow.

“Thanks for helpin’ me set this thing up, it’s a pain in the ass by yourself”

Button fell backwards onto the bed, “No problem.” He let out a big yawn, indicating that it was about three o’clock; ten minutes after school let out.

Babs tossed a pillow beside Button and slowly slithered up to the backrest (which was now a headboard) with the blanket in tow, not unlike a cape. She sat up near the midway point and adjusted the pillow to her liking. She patted the spot beside her, beckoning Button to cuddle. “C’mon, let’s snuggle.” She put a hoof to her mouth and yawned heavily. Button crawled up next to her and spooned himself up against her thigh, embracing her with his crotch. Getting comfy, he craned his neck to the side to invite Babs to nuzzle, who gladly accepted. He wraaped his legs around her back, cradling her body with his own.

“Comfy?” He asked with a stroke of her mane.

Babs let out a small laugh, “Couldn’t be better,” she pecked his cheek and returned her muzzle to Buttons shoulder. “C’mon, let’s take a nap.”

He kissed her forehead, “It’s be an honor to snuggle a pony like you.”

“I know.” She giggled at her sarcastic comment and Button’s flattery.

<<>>

Having fallen into the heavy sleep of a similar anatomic schedule, neither Button nor Babs heard Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scoots enter the house. “Babs?,” Applebloom waited a few seconds to try again, “BABS!? WHERE’S MAH CD PLAYAH!?” Applebloom muttered to herself, “Dammit! She must be sleepin’” She walked into the hallway adjacent to her room and looked up to the ceiling, folding stairs raised up. Regardless if her cousin was sleeping, she and her friends wanted to listen to music and talk . . . about colts . . . like Rumble. Applebloom jumped up to retrieve the cord to pull down the stairs, an action that took a few tries, but was rewarded with access to Babs’ room, and more importantly, her stereo. What she saw next would definitely shock her and her friends. She turned around, climbed back down the stairs and joined her friends.

“Applebloom, you look like you saw a ghost!” Sweetie saw the look on AB’s face and could tell it was serious. She put a hoof on her shoulder and asked, “You okay?”

No answer.

“Yeah, man. You looked like you just walked in on Big Mac and Cheerilee goin’ at it!” She smacked her thigh and laughed at her comment. Seeing that nopony else was laughing, Scootaloo decided it was best to just shut her mouth and listen.

“Eh-Even worse” Her eye was twitching and her lips quivered in disgust. Pointing to the pull-down stairs in the hall, she said, “Go suh-see for yerself!”

“C’mon, Scoots, let’ go find what’s got AB all worked up”

Sweetie Belle was the first to ascend the ladder, then Scootaloo, then Applebloom.

To the latter third, the room felt dirtier than it already was. The other kind of dirty. Applebloom pointed at the bed. To the other fillies, it just looked like Babs under the covers; nothing out of the ordinary. “Under th-the covers . . . Babs”, her voice died off into an inaudible mumble as Scoots and Sweetie Belle approached the edge of the bed.

Scootaloo grabbed the corner of the blanket and yanked it off in one fluid movement. She wished he hadn’t.

There lay Button and Babs, spooned up against one another in a romantic embrace.

“AAAHHHHH!!!”

The Others

Scootaloo and Sweetie’s screams were enough jolt both Button and Babs out of their slumber, not to mention, broke the trance that had come over Applebloom. “BABS?! WHAT. THE. FUCK?!” Scootaloo panicked at the sight. “Why are you cuddling all lovey-dovey with this weirdo?! D-did you . . . ?” She was cut short by Babs who raised a hoof in protest.

“Calm down, Scoots, we didn’t screw ya perv.” Babs’ nonchalance towards the situation further shocked the still waking Button and her friends.

“Then what did you guys do?!” Applebloom questioned. She was equally disgusted and confused how a colt like Button ended up cuddling Babs. He had the same question.

“Y’know, jus’ messed around a bit” Her voice conveyed a sense of pride for her actions.

“Yeah man, we just made out for, like, ten minutes.” Button, on the other hoof, sounded like the dork who never had any action until an hour ago that he was. Trying to sound cool in a situation that was making him piss himself on the inside, lead to more trouble

“Did you do this ‘cause ya felt bad for him?” Applebloom had a puzzled look on her face.

“Yeah, you don’t wanna hang around him, he’s a fuckin’ dork!” Scootaloo pointed an accusing hoof at the hurting Button. He was currently curled up against Babs’ shoulder, shielding himself from the all too familiar insults.

“Don’t talk about him like that, ya fuckin’ cunt!” The big guns had been busted out.

Applebloom had to hold Scootaloo around the chest to halter her charge towards the couple “Why you!” Her tiny wings buzzed in anger. “I’ll kick both your asses!” She writhed, enfettered by Applebloom’s strong grasp.

“Good luck with that!” Blowing a lock of pink hair out of her face, Babs cracked her hooves together and flexed her muscles. Sure Scootaloo was faster than her, but she’d flatten that mouthy bitch out like a pancake.

“Don’t talk to Scoots like that! I’ll tell Granny Smith and getcha’ ass sent back ta Manehattan!” Applebloom, being a filly of action, felt dirty threatening to tell on another pony.

“You’re the ones who came up here and started pickin’ on me and Button!” Babs’ neck was now damp with the tears of the cowering colt.

Applebloom set Scoots down, keeping a watchful eye on her. “Ah came up here lookin’ for mah CD player and I see you and some weirdo all snuggled up like two lovebugs or somethin’!”

“Then take the damn thing and mind ya own business!” Babs yanked the cord from the socket beside the bed and tossed it to the center of the couch-bed.

“Fine!” Applebloom grabbed her stereo and turned tail, friends silently following.

After the intruders left, Babs pulled up the stairs and closed the hatch, taking the cord with as not to be interrupted by prying eyes. Babs waked over to the bed and slid back in beside Button. “Sorry ‘bout those bitches, I mean, they’re my friends an’ all, but I guess they don’t like ya very much.” She kissed him on the forehead and pressed herself against him harder.

Button wiped away the remainder of his tears, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. At least we’ve got each other” She met his gaze with a smile. “How about you stay here for dinner, my grandma’ll cook some real good shit.”

Button laughed at her suggestion, mainly because it gave him the mental image of an old mare cooking meth. “I’ll call my mom and ask.” He wriggled himself out from beneath the blankets and walked over to his saddlebags. After a few moments of digging through the tumult of discarded drawings and worksheets due three weeks ago, he found his outdated flip phone. He didn’t care much about phones or social media probably because he had nopony to socialize with until two and a half hours ago. “Mind if I head downstairs to piss and ask my mom if I can stay?”

“Ya really think I’d say ‘No, Button, ya can’t piss here? Go right ahead.” The comment was nodded off as Button opened the hatch and descended the ladder down.

Button looked down the long hallway. Lots of doors, an off-white paintjob, high ceilings, typical old house styles and decor. on the way up, Button didn’t really look around being that he was busy getting yanked up into a filly’s room for a lapdance. Wierd. He saw the door to his left was slightly ajar with voices coming from within. It was those three dickwipes who not two minutes ago told him he was a creep. Sure his tics and quirks were off-putting at times, but he wasn’t the loser they made him out to be. Was he? It didn’t matter his dick was on fire and he needed to tell his mom where he was so she didn’t throw a shit-fit.

He stepped into the turquoise tiled bathroom to his right and shut the door behind him as to avoid an awkward situation of being walked in on. He lifted the seat and released a hot bladder of lemon-lime soda and two hours of waiting into the porcelain bowl. He sighed at the pleasure of another good piss under his belt. He flushed and closed the seat to call up his mom. Flipping through his contacts, he hit the call button and waited. After three rings, he heard the familiar voice of his mother “Hi hon! How are you?”

The same shit every time. “I’m fine. Hey, I was wondering if I could stay for dinner at a friend’s house?” He spoke quickly to cut her off from her usual “How was school today?”.

“S-Sure, just be back by tomorrow.” The question caught her off guard, Button had finally made a friend! She could barely contain her excitement.

“Tomorrow, really? It’s not like we’re throwing a kegger.”

“You better not be! Not after what happened last time!”

“Don’t worry, she’s good.”

“She? Do tell!” Not only did Button make a friend, but this friend of his was a girl, score!

“I’d rather not, hey uh, gotta go bye” He hung up to the pursuing voices of “I love you” and “Don’t do anything stupid” of his mother.

Exiting the bathroom, he heard the squealing of three excited fillies in the room across the hall. “OH MY GOSH, THEY’RE COMING OVER!!!” Definitely Sweetie Cunt; and to think that he was going to ask such such a disgusting example of a pony out. Maybe it was getting to his head. Who were“they” though? He had to know. He held up an ear to the door and listened for clues. The thick wooden door muffled the voices within, but he’d know exactly who they were talking about. “I just got off the phone with Shady and guess what?!”

“What?!” Not even an inch and a half of solid oak could mask the excitement of the other two’s voices.

“He, Rumble, and Featherweight are coming over to hang out!” Oh boy. Soon enough those pricks will be there and he wouldn’t hear the end of it.The athletes and the pretty girls versus the two undeceiving lovebirds who met a little under three hours ago. Who will win this meaningless battle?

Button mumbled to himself as he climbed the ladder “Awwwww shit!” Reaching the attic, Button trotted over to Babs to tell her the bad news. She was laying on top of the bed looking at a boxing magazine. “Babs! We’re so fucked”

“What!? Why” She tossed the magazine aside and sat up to face him. She was thinking that Big Mac and AJ were downstairs, ready to kick Button’s ass for their recent canoodling.

“Rumble and his dickwad friends are coming over to hang out with the others!” Button looked truly afraid, forgetting the promise that Babs’d whoop their asses to Chineigh. He  leaped up beside her and latched onto her with a fearful hug.

Babs couldn’t help but giggle at Button’s irrationality towards the situation. She wrapped a comforting foreleg around Button’s neck and said, “Don’t worry about those limp-dicked fairy fuckheads. C’mon, let’s go have a cig and talk. Granny Smith’ll be home any minute to start dinner.”

“It’s only three fifteen.” Button was puzzled as both sets of grandparents were dead.

“She’s seventy one.”

<<>>

The view from the top of the barn was incredible, a beautiful orchard blanketed by a spring afternoon. The gentle breeze felt good in Button’s hair as he assumed a comfortable position near the crest of the roof. “Pretty, ain’t it?” Babs didn’t strike him as the kind of filly to use the word “pretty”, nor did he expect her to have so much make up and act like a lovestruck schoolgirl. Her tough-bitch personality was probably just a front. Button figured this out at the ice cream parlor when she giggling like a little girl.

“Yeah.”

“Here.” She held out a pack of cigarettes.

Button grabbed one of the yellow filter poking out with his teeth. “Thanks”

Babs, taking a cig of her own, flipped open her lighter and held it over the flame. Button leaned in and lit his without removing it from his mouth. The both held in the smoke of their first drags and looked at one another. At a near telepathic que, they exhaled a cloud into each other's faces. Babs spoke up, “I like you, Button. Ya got style.”

“I like you too. You’re the most badass chick I’ve met!” He smiled and looked out at the vast expanse of apple trees ahead of him. “We’ve only acknowledged each other for three hours and we’ve already made out . . . twice!”

Babs took another drag off her cig, “Yeah. I guess we fit pretty well together, y’know.”

Button smiled, “I knew that you’d be the one ten minutes after you saved my ass. Nopony has ever stood up for me before, thanks”

They held each other close, waiting for the time to pass in silence, yet in the comfort of the other’s company. It felt good to be in love.