Both Sides Now

The morning sun woke Rarity. From her place at the table, Twilight turned her head to watch her stir.

She stretched, cat-like, feeling the satisfying ache that followed good sex, and smiled to herself. Rolling over, she found the large bed empty. Rarity opened her eyes, and found Twilight observing her. There were little uneven curls in her mane, and she realized rather belatedly that the regular way Rarity's hair fell and swooped wasn't how it naturally behaved. Twilight liked it, she decided; it made the pony she was watching a little more real. It reminded her of being backstage.

"Mm, good morning," Rarity said. She slid out of bed. "Have you been awake long?"

Twilight shook her head. "Long enough to start coffee. Get the papers. Think a little."

Rarity noticed Twilight's newspapers at the table, still folded in half, upside-down from her. "I think," she said, sitting opposite Twilight, "that this morning I feel like foregoing my tea. If you could pour some coffee for me, please, when it's ready?"

"Are you sure?" Twilight asked. "It's kinda bad."

"Here we stay at one of the finest hotels in Canterlot, and you mean to tell me that Princess Twilight Sparkle cannot even get a decent cup of coffee to start her mornings with? Disgraceful." She smiled, breaking her mask of mock outrage, and Twilight giggled at her.

"Maybe I should complain to somepony."

"I'm sure you could have whatever bean you prefer freshly-ground within minutes and delivered to your door, if you complained to the right pony. You are a princess, after all."

"That I am." Twilight tapped the table lightly with her hooves. "That I am."

A long moment passed between them in silence. Twilight didn't want to avoid Rarity's gaze, or leave the room -- she was her friend, and she liked her, and nothing had happened that had erased the bedrock of their friendship -- but she was hesitant to push forward. It was like time had stopped, like they would live together in this moment forever until one of them had the courage to break the spell.

"Breakfast should be on its way soon," she said. It felt like awkward small-talk, insignificant prattle about the weather or the nice shade of the walls. But it also felt like she had just invoked a deadline pressing in on them; if neither of them escaped from their current stasis by the time the tray of bagels and croissants manifested, the chance to move forward might just disappear, ebb away like a shallow puddle in the hot sun.

"That's good," Rarity agreed. She looked lost in the same mire of recursive thoughts Twilight found herself in.

Taking a deep breath, making it purposefully loud enough that Rarity would hear her, Twilight balled up her courage and brought forth words: "We need to talk about this, don't we?"

Rarity looked at her. She was not a stranger to whirlwind romance, of two ships that pass in the night. They could be pleasant experiences, treasured ones even, something to remember fondly and mark as a point of growth. Last night could be that. It could be their secret, hers and Twilight's, discrete as if it had never happened except for the occasional glace, the occasional shared laugh that would be for them and none of their friends. And they would remain friends, unchanged. Perhaps a moment in the far-flung future of heartbreak and bitterness would cause one to run to the other, first for support, then for comfort, then for love, knowing she could be relied upon for all three, knowing their shared private history. Perhaps.

She didn't like how that path made her feel, but she could see it clearly unfolding before her. But the other... she couldn't picture herself and Twilight together. Not as a couple in secret, not as one out in the open. She couldn't see the reaction of their friends, of their families, of the world at large. She couldn't know if Twilight would drop in at Carousel Boutique just to be with her while she worked, if she would have a room in Twilight's castle all to herself, if they would eat daisies in the streets of Ponyville or finely-sliced truffles in the private rooms of Canterlot's most exclusive restaurants, if it would end in shouting and sobbing or hugging and parting ways or the mysterious haze of happily ever after. It was a complete unknown, and it scared her.

But what scared her more was that Twilight may not be willing to risk it with her.

"We do," she agreed at last.

"We slept together," Twilight said, trying to imagine crossing bullet points off a list rather than the feel of Rarity's body between her hooves.

"We did."

"I enjoyed it."

"As did I." The sound of Twilight panting yes with ragged breaths as her climax quickened returned to her, and she smiled involuntarily.

Twilight smiled back at her, then glanced down at the illegible print of an upside-down newspaper. It felt like she had lost her place in her notes. Focus on checking the boxes off. Not on Rarity smiling. "Which we did," she continued, "after pretending to be a couple in secret."

"Which was fun," Rarity said.

"It was."

Rarity stifled her next thought ("We should do it again some time."); it was flippant and inappropriate, even if it was true to how she felt.

"So," Twilight said, tapping idly on the table again. "Where do we go from here?"

"I don't know," Rarity said. And she didn't.

"I was thinking," Twilight said, the words feeling long and loose in her mouth, "we still have one day here. Where we both have other, um..."

"Obligations?" Rarity supplied.

"Yes. And that perhaps we should first focus on those, not because they are more important but because they are time-sensitive, and once those are out of the way we can focus on... us, and what to do about..."

Twilight's hooves drummed on the table, and she looked around every part of the hotel room before her eyes finally settled on Rarity.

"...Us," she finished, resigned to repeating herself.

"My meeting with Fair Banks could lead to quite important things," Rarity agreed, "to say nothing of the Open Forum."

"Yes," Twilight said, "yes, we shouldn't neglect either of those things."

"A little time can give some well-reasoned perspective."

"But we're not putting anything off."

"Absolutely not. We're being rational and mature."

"Yes. Exactly what I thought. Rational and mature. Good. That's the way to handle things."

"It is."

"I think the coffee is ready."

"That's good too."

"I'll pour some."

"For me too."

"Of course."

"Good."

"Good."

Twilight took a deep breath and bit her lip. Being lost on uncharted ground was daunting, but it was good to know she had Rarity by her side, still. They'd find their way somewhere together, wherever their way ended up being.

"Good," she repeated, and she rose from the table.

Rarity glanced at the newspaper as Twilight dealt with the kettle. She had a passing thought to check the papers for more rumors about them, then thought better of it. That was for later. She also remembered she was without her robe, but that could also wait.

Twilight had turned away from the table to fix the coffee. She didn't need to pay attention to what she was doing -- she could have avoided looking at the whole process until two steaming cups floated to the table -- but there was something she wanted to say, and it would be easier to say it with her back to Rarity.

"I like your mane like that," she said to the coffeepot, and smiled at herself.

She didn't see Rarity's smile, similarly quiet and personal. "Darling," she said, "my mane is a mess."

"Mm, I know." Twilight turned back around with the coffee mugs, and sat them on the table. "I like it."

Rarity touched a hoof to her mane and examined the unruly curls forming there. "You know, it's not many ponies who get to see me like this," she said.

The urge to kiss her was suddenly very strong; Twilight may have if there hadn't been a table between them. "I know that too," she settled for saying, and sat opposite Rarity.

Together they sipped their coffee. They waited for breakfast, and for the rest of the day.