Attack The Flask!

Sweetie Belle awoke when the sunlight hit her face.

The young girl turned in the sheets, yawning. Her eyes cracked open at the unfamiliar sensation of satin linens.

This isn't my bed, she thought to herself.

Her head ached as she rubbed it, and Sweetie Belle realized that she wasn't wearing underwear.

Her heart raced as she sat up in the bed. What did I do last night?

The sheets rustled next her, and Sweetie Belle realized that she wasn't alone.

"Hey," came a drowsy voice. A feminine arm draped across Sweetie's waist, pulling her closer to the center of the bed.

Her racing pulse returned to normal. Her partner wasn't who she would have preferred to wake up to, but it was better than waking up next to a stranger.

"Hey, DT."

Her friend bent over Sweetie's stomach, resting her head on her chest. "Do you remember last night?" she asked, tracing on the younger girl's stomach with her finger.

"Not really," she confessed.

"I was amazing," Diamond Tiara said, smirking. "I made good on my promise, you know."

Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow. "What promise?"

Diamond pulled herself up to her friend's neck, planting a kiss on her cheek. "You crossed me, so I made a woman out of you."

She rolled her eyes. "It wasn't my first time, dumbo."

"It was your best time," Diamond said, smirking. "You were alright yourself."

"Excuse you," the other girl said, frowning. "Sweetie Belle always fucks like a champ."

A chuckle. "Sure thing, champ."

Sweetie Belle sighed as she sank back under the sheets. "We should party more often."

"We should," the heiress agreed. She frowned. "We may have to find another guy, though. I might have scared your friend off with my little episode last night."

Sighing, Sweetie Belle checked her phone and groaned. Three missed calls from Rarity. "I've got to go soon. I didn't tell Rarity I was spending the night."

"Wait."

The arm wrapped around Sweetie's waist, pulling her into a hug. Diamond Tiara looked sullenly at her friend. Then she sighed. "Guess it's true. I'm no good at a one-night stand."

Sweetie Belle frowned, touching the young woman on her shoulder. "I never said that, DT, I just have to go home—"

"But I still need love, cause I'm just a man," Diamond Tiara continued, her voice deepening.

Sweetie blinked. "What?"

"These nights never seem to go to plan," she warbled, straddling Sweetie Belle's waist. A manicured hand made its way to her face, caressing her cheek.

"Diamond Tiara, you colossal dork," Sweetie Belle laughed, trying to push her friend off, but to no avail.

"I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand?"

Apple Bloom stood at the kitchen window, transfixed by what lay before her.

All hints of the freak snowstorm from last night had vanished, replaced instead of a pristine land of ice that resembled the inside of a snowglobe.

The farm was all but buried in it, and suddenly the young farmer was glad that they had managed to finish the harvest weeks ago.

She sighed. The mug of hot cider she had prepared early that morning had gone cold, she had been standing at the window so long.

After a time, she realized that Diamond Tiara had a balcony overlooking the town. She might even be able to see the farm from her bedroom window.

After a moment's contemplation, she laced up her shoes and plucked out her phone.

Going to town, she texted Applejack and Big Macintosh, both of whom were sleeping in on the weekend.

Scowling, the Mayor of Ponyville got out of her bed, yanking off her beige robe from the rack next to her bed. If that sound was what she thought it was, she had visitors.

Or one, in particular.

She picked up a comb to tame her hair into a somewhat respectable form, throwing it back onto the bed once she finished and donning her glasses and slippers.

Silently, she made her way to the kitchen, where the noise was coming from.

Inside, a filthy, pitch black youth was apparently mixing coconut water and Gatorade.

"Ello, love," he said, smiling. He grimaced as he braced himself to drink the mixture. His throat bulged as he took it, and gulped, finished. "Blimey, hangovers are the worst, but I'd almost suffer through it if it meant none of this muck."

The Mayor sighed. "Pipsqueak, how did you get into my house again?"

He grinned. "Keep telling you to clean your chimney, love. You never listen."

She blinked. "Is that why you're always dirty when you show up?" She held her nose, frowning. "And you didn't shower all night?"

"Oh, well," he said, "I didn't want to impose or anything."

The mayor stared at the black streaks going across her pristine carpet, as well as the drinks he had taken from the fridge. "Because you were doing such a fantastic job of that."

He only shrugged in response.

"Pipsqueak," she said sternly. "I won't press charges, but if you don't take a shower right now, I will force you to roll in the snow outside until you're clean."

He pouted, but complied. "Even as you say, love." He pointed behind himself, to a counter that doubled as a bar. "Made you breakfast."

She stared at him.

"Pipsqueak. That's just baked beans and a bottle of Absolut."

He scrunched his nose. "I know. Breakfast."

After the first three times, she stopped threatening to call the police. He never did anything but play tic-tac-toe by himself or sing carols. Sometimes she caught him crying, but they didn't talk about it. Messed up the novelty of their uncanny relationship.

She crossed her arms. "Shower. Now," she commanded, shaking her head in the direction of the bathroom. "After you're done, we can discuss how you're going to pay for my carpet."

Pipsqueak gaped. "I'm poor! I can't afford to pay for something like that!"

"Then get a job," she said, raising an eyebrow. "They should be hiring for seasonal workers by now anyway."

The youngster continued to pout. "I won't go back to playing an elf. You can't make me."

She snorted. "I'm the mayor, bitch. I do what I want."

Pipsqueak was silent for a moment, then said, "Say, where was your bathroom again?"

"Around the corner, to the—"

"Show me."

Frowning, the older woman led him to the spot of the house where her only bathroom was. She placed her hands on her hips. "Happy now?"

"You know," he said, not heeding the obviously rhetorical question, "you don't smell so fresh yourself."

The mayor's frown deepened. "Excuse me?"

"And I shower a long time," he admitted. "Hot water might run out by the time I'm gone."

The older woman's eyes bulged. "You are not suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

"Turned eighteen last month, love," he said. He held out his hand, proffering the bottle of vodka that he'd snatched from the kitchen counter.

The mayor stared at him, wondering what could've been running through that idiotic mind of his.

She grabbed the bottle from him, taking a swig and capping the top, throwing the bottle into a nearby basket of towels. "Fuck it, life's too short. Get in, before I change my mind," she grumbled, shrugging off her robe.

"Fantastic," said the thrilled young man, whipping off his clothes and tossing them in what he knew to be the dirty clothes hamper. He felt the mayor's eyes on him, the water washing off the grime off of his body, felt her presence as she finally stepped into the shower behind him. Her hands reached into his hair, scrubbing the dirt away, and he sighed. Her chest rested just above his shoulders, and her hand, moving in circles to rub out the filth, circled ever lower.

"I love this country," he murmured.

Apple Bloom killed the ignition on her truck, hearing and feeling the roar of her much-loved beat-up truck die down.

With anticipation like pinpricks on the back of her neck, she shuffled in her much-too-large coat, which hung to her waist.

Can't believe I'm doing this, she thought to herself, but the thought was unnecessary. She knew that she had made up her mind.

Gulping, she released the seat belt and hopped out of the pick up.

As she shambled through the snow, she panicked, realizing that she hadn't thought up anything to say to Diamond Tiara.

What could she say?

Last night was heavy, to put it lightly, and if Spike hadn't been in that room with her, Apple Bloom couldn't say for sure that she would've refused the other girl's advances.

All too soon, she was knocking at the door. She realized that she didn't have to go through with anything. Just run back to the truck, start the ignition, and pretend this little flight of fancy never happened. Diamond Tiara was probably asleep anyway. No one would ever know.

Just as she started to turn on her heel, the door opened.

Apple Bloom's eyes bulged. Sweetie Belle stood in the doorway, half-asleep and tragically under dressed.

The pale girl raised an eyebrow, but that was the extent of her expression. In all her trepidation, she had completely forgotten that her friend wasn't with the group that left that night. Apple Bloom had insisted on being the one to drive, having had the fewest amount of drinks and the highest resistance to alcohol.

Evidently, her friend wasn't too fond of her choice of actions.

"Hey," she said, leaning on the side of the door, arms crossed.

"H-hey, Sweetie Belle," Apple Bloom said, trying and failing for a smile. Her mind raced. There was no way she could just head up to Diamond Tiara's room and take the girl up on her offer, but neither could she just leave. "Rarity was worried about you," she said. For all she knew, she was telling the truth.

"Rarity's always worried," Sweetie Belle said bluntly. She held up her phone, displaying several missed calls from her sister.

"I'm here to pick you up," Apple Bloom tried.

"You're lying," the other girl said.

"Am not!" she lied. "I'm just surprised to see you dressed like that!"

"Back so soon?"

A feeling like ice-cold water washed down Apple Bloom's spine. She looked up on the balcony. "Hey, Diamond Tiara," she muttered.

"Why so shy, Apple Bloom?" the girl asked, strutting down the stairs. She wore lounge pants and a sports bra. "Don't tell me last night got you all flustered."

"She knows why I'm pissed at her," Sweetie Belle said, glaring. Apple Bloom shrunk under Sweetie Belle's gaze.

Diamond Tiara frowned. "I thought you said you enjoyed it."

"I did, eventually," Sweetie Belle said, still glaring. "I didn't enjoy getting ditched, though."

Diamond Tiara made an Ohhh face, nodding and closing her mouth.

Apple Bloom sighed, feeling her body shaking. Her stomach was violent, and she felt like she could throw up at any minute. She knew her next question would determine how the rest of her visit went. Finally, she asked shakily, "What can I do to make it up to you?" The tip of her shoe kicked against Diamond Tiara's doormat.

Sweetie Belle blinked slowly, before a smile started to come to her face. She sighed, hugging a surprised Apple Bloom around her waist. "You know I can never stay mad at you for long."

Apple Bloom shook into the embrace. "I really am sorry," she confessed. "I wasn't thinking straight last night."

"No one was thinking straight last night," Diamond Tiara said, crossing her arms. "Why are you here, again?"

The farmer opened her mouth to speak, freezing when she realized she had nothing to say. "I don't really know," she said.

Something in Diamond Tiara's face, the very set of her posture told her that the older girl didn't believe her.

Still, that didn't deter Apple Bloom. She turned to Sweetie Belle. "You ready to get out of here?"

Sweetie Belle blinked at her, smiling. "Oh," she said, "I don't remember saying you were off the hook."

Apple Bloom frowned. "Come again?"

"...blatant disregard for my authority!" Thunderlane roared.

"I said I was sorry," Rumble said, abashed. He held his arms behind his back. His face was red from embarrassment and anger, both having been caused by his brother.

"I have exactly one rule, Rumble, one rule. What is that rule?"

"Be home by ten," he answered.

"Guess what time you were home, Rumble?" Thunderlane asked from the kitchen.

"Twelve," he answered.

Scootaloo couldn't help but feel ashamed, between the two men. The two of them had crashed at Rumble's place for the night, as his house was closer than hers.

The skater had expected Thunderlane to be distraught at his brother's tardiness, but the bitching-out he was giving the two of them was legendary.

It didn't help that she couldn't be mad at Thunderlane, seeing as how he was clad in an apron and cooking the two of them breakfast.

"Give me one reason I should let you ever go to another party again," Thunderlane said, scowling as he drew a smiley face on Rumble's pancakes with syrup, just the way he liked it.

"How about I'm eighteen years old, and you're not my dad!" Rumble yelled.

"You have one time to play that card, buddy," Thunderlane growled. "My house, my rules."

"Mister Thunderlane, sir?" Scootaloo asked, raising her hand. The man stared at her, and she flinched. His parents were wise to name him Thunderlane: it looked as if a storm was going off in his eyes. "Sir, it's really my fault we were so late."

"I don't want you sticking up for—" he started.

"No, I mean it!" she interrupted. "It was me that came onto him, and that was the reason we were so late."

Thunderlane stopped. "'Came on to him?'"

Scootaloo nodded. "We fucked in my car a few times. That's why we got in so late."

Rumble looked horrified. "Scootaloo! That was supposed to be between the two of us!"

"Is that true?" Thunderlane barked.

The blue-haired boy looked fearfully at his brother, before looking down at the counter and shaking his head in the affirmative.

The older man worked his jaw, turning off the skillet without breaking eye contact. He seemed less angry.

He turned to Scootaloo. "Did you use protection?"

She shook her head. "His pullout game was too strong. I took one in the mouth."

Thunderlane sagged. Gathering himself up again, he managed a smile. "That's what I'm talking about, Rumble!" He punched the younger boy in the shoulder, ruffling his hair.

"Thanks?" Rumble said, smiling. Scootaloo bumped him in the side, grinning.

Thunderlane served the two of them their plates, acknowledging their thanks with a nod of the head while he stood behind the counter.

"Say grace, you fucking heathens," he said. "Rumble, God in heaven, cut up your pancakes. You don't want to choke."

"Yeah, yeah."

Scootaloo moaned in abject satisfaction. Rumble shook, nearly choking on his food. "This food is amazing. Did you make these pancakes from scratch?"

"Everything I make is," Thunderlane said, nodding.

"Hey, do you cook?" Scootaloo asked Rumble, nudging him.

"I'm learning," he admitted.

Thunderlane slapped his elbow. "Chew your food before you speak, jackass."

She couldn't believe those two!

Apple Bloom stomped through the town square, furious and nervous at the same time.

Their dare was simple in nature, though, it was daring.

As in, the exact opposite of what Apple Bloom would have preferred to do.

Still, Sweetie Belle had insisted that she was owed recompense, and damn if that girl wasn't persuasive.

Her target hadn't appeared yet. Sugar Cube Corner was run by the Cakes on weekends, to give the few employees they had some much needed time off. The market was bustling despite the weather, filled with people clad in various furs and sweaters.

The farmer felt conscious of her appearance, as if the whole town secretly knew of her mission and was silently judging her for it.

Finally, she spotted him.

He sat outside, wearing a fitting wool coat and a scarf. Somehow, she knew that Rarity had made both for him. He was laughing, and suddenly, Apple Bloom noticed that he wasn't alone.

A small orange-haired girl sat to his side, clad in a puffer coat and ear muffs. She laughed at everything he said, never letting go of his hand. A boy of similar stature sat next to her, rolling his eyes every so often as he worked at some electronic contraption in his hands.

Slowly, she realized that the two children were the Cake twins.

Great, she thought, just great.

While she was happy to see the two, it certainly didn't make her job any easier.

Sighing, she strode up to the table, waving once Spike caught sight of her.

"Howdy," she said, hugging him and Pumpkin about the shoulder. "What's up?"

"We just got back from a movie!" Pumpkin shrieked. "It was amazing, wasn't it?" she asked Spike.

"Sure was," he said, grinning. "You haven't talked about anything else for the past few minutes." He turned to Apple Bloom. "Pull up a seat, AB."

She looked at the table. It was small, only suited for four. She blinked. She hadn't noticed the purse laying there, which was certainly too large for Pumpkin to be carrying around.

"Is there room?" she asked, uncertain.

"There's always room for you," he said, smiling. Getting up, he pulled Pumpkin out of her seat.

"Hey!" she yelled, indignant, only to be placated when Spike seated her on his knees. "Nevermind," she said giddily.

"Thanks," Apple Bloom murmured, sitting down in the cushioned metal seat. The dust of a blush crossed her face as she realized how the four of them would appear to an onlooker.

The scene was too hallmark. Two adults, outside on a calm winter's day, joined by an aloof boy and a girl pining for attention. It crossed Apple Bloom's mind that, for all she knew, she might be in the exact same situation in a matter of years, perhaps as little as five.

She sighed. However pleasant, those were dangerous thoughts to be thinking.

"Apple Bloom?" Spike asked, worried. "You okay? You kind of blanked out there."

"I'm fine," she assured him, coming back to the present. "Just lost in thought."

Pound Cake snorted. "Women," he muttered, tapping away on his video game.

"By the way," she asked, "who's sitting here? I don't remember seeing that there purse before."

"It's mine," called a voice. Silver Spoon strutted up to the table, holding a carton of drinks and breakfast food. She smiled warmly at Apple Bloom. "Morning."

Apple Bloom returned her smile. "Morning, Spoon." At the back of her mind, the girl's uninhibited actions from last night rang forth, and she wondered if the girl regretted her actions.

Going by Silver Spoon's wink as she sat across from Apple Bloom, she doubted it.

She wore a deep gray women's pea coat that covered her entire torso. Her hands were wrapped in gloves, and a monochrome scarf lovingly wound about her neck. All that could be seen of her legs were flattering black stockings and snow boots with heels.

Silver Spoon frowned. "Sorry, I only got food for the four of us. Didn't know you were going to show."

"Oh, no, that's fine," Apple Bloom waved her concerns off. "I didn't know I was gonna show either, just came over when I saw these three."

"We caught Silver Spoon on our way out of the movie theater," Spike explained. "We were going to head over to the museum with the kids later." He smiled. "Do you want to come?"

Silver Spoon beamed. "I think that's a wonderful idea." She crossed her legs, laying back as she prepared her coffee.

"Sure thing," Apple Bloom said. Despite the wonderful way the morning was going, she felt the nervousness at what she was supposed to do gnaw at her stomach. Somehow, she knew Sweetie Belle would know if she failed her mission.

She started when Silver Spoon barked "Hello?" She realized that the older girl was speaking into her phone. She got up from the table, excusing herself.

Now or never, she thought to herself.

"Hey," she said, anxious, "can I ask you something?"

Spike blinked. "Sure thing. What is it?"

She was staring directly into his eyes now. "Lean in close." She jerked her head at Pumpkin, who was barking at her brother. "It's a secret."

Spike frowned, but complied. He leaned in close, ear turned toward her.

Relying on her audacity, Apple Bloom leaned in, grasping the boy by the chin, and sank her lips into his. It was a brief kiss, shallow but intense. Apple Bloom's untrained tongue made a single pass into her partner's mouth, a darting motion, and she gave his lips a brief, shaky squeeze with her own before pulling back.

His eyes were searching and intense, so she leaned again, sharing his flinch. "You tasted good, too," she said, word for word as her friends had told her to say. Their commands were needless, though; had she gotten to this point on her own, she would have fired the words off freely.

Spike said nothing, only blinking rapidly and trying not to smile. His ears burned, and the infection of delight spread to his cheeks. "I—" he started to say, before a buzz seemed to run through him. He beamed, showing his teeth, before sighing and burying his face in the back of Pumpkin's coat. "You are so weird," he said, his voice muffled.

"I know," she murmured. This time, she made sure to commit his savor to memory, licking her lips.

"Ahem."

Apple Bloom blinked, turning her head. That voice sounded familiar. She froze when her eyes landed on them.

Applejack and Cheerilee sat at the table adjacent to them, quite amused.

Apple Bloom gaped. No.

The schoolteacher was trembling with restrained laughter and embarrassment for her pupil, while the farmer simply shook her head, head on fist, grinning.

"Got your text," she said, holding up her phone. She winked at her sister, her teeth showing in a Cheshire smile.

"Oh hayseeds," Apple Bloom groaned. "Celestia, take me now."

The two women erupted into laughter, shaking visibly. Apple Bloom wanted to die, anything to spare her the embarrassment and ribbing that was to come. Spike burrowed his face even further into Pumpkin's coat. "Oh my God," he groaned.

Silver Spoon came back to the table, pulling up her chair as she settled in. "What'd I miss?"

The End