Preggy Pie

Author's note: Apparently editors are...a thing. And I should get one. Dang it. Oh well; for now I'll just post chapters and have them edited later! (Also, this chapter has a couple of inconsistencies with the first one, but don't worry. I'll fix that later.)

Chapter Three

One year ago...

You knew Pinkie had trouble talking to you after your first date, but there was more to it than you first believed. A couple months after you got married, she told you the entire story.

Pinkie woke up very early the morning following your date. She was sweating and her heart was pounding. She sat up, her comforter slumping forward, and pressing a hoof to her chest. She felt some quick pulses and tried to breathe, but it felt like she needed more air. She kept thinking of your face, your smile, your voice...everything about you. Could you have gotten her sick? She wondered if ponies could get sick from humans. She walked to her window and pushed it open. She took a deep breath, but instead being calmed down, she started to feel nervous. Nervous about what, she couldn't tell, but it was horrible. She went back to bed, but her mind was racing. Her legs couldn't keep still. She couldn't find a comfortable position. After a grueling hour of this, she picked up her pillow and threw it to the floor. She tossed her covers to the side and stood up. She was upset. She didn't want to get sick; not now, anyway.

She got up and trotted downstairs. If she couldn't sleep, she might as well cook.

Pinkie reached up to her cupboard and pulled out one of a few cookbooks she owned. She didn't want to make something sweet right now. She wasn't in a very sweet mood. But she did want to make something. Eventually she found a recipe for vegetable pot pie. It was involved, but at least it would make for a decent distraction. She trotted to her fridge and got out some carrots and mushrooms, and she got the flour, eggs, salt, onions, and potatoes from her pantry.

As she set the cutting board on the coutner, Pinkie kept telling herself not to think about you. Not to think about the date. Not to think about that grassy hill, or the stars, or that kiss you gave her...

She gasped, realizing the knife was only millimeters away from her hoof. She had almost cut herself. Why? Why was she like this? She didn't get sick often, but she knew it wasn't this hard to focus while sick. And why did she keep thinking of you? It was as though you had done something bad to her, but you didn't. You made her feel happy. You made her smile and laugh; you even made her blush...

Pinkie felt a warmth creep onto her face. She was definitely doing it again...she couldn't see it, but she knew. Thank goodness nopony was around to notice. She breathed through her nose and let it out gradually. Everything was okay. She had nothing to blush about. She kept cutting up the vegetables, and once they were all diced, she started mixing the dough. It was a simple dough; it didn't even have milk. It wasn't as difficult as the specialty breads you made at your job. It was tough to need, though. It must have been much easier for you to do with your fingers. Your fingers were gentle. They were soft; they were never used to trot on the ground. And they wrapped around her sides perfectly...they could comfort better than any stallion could...

Pinkie was overcome with an emotion. An odd emotion. It was like her tummy had bubbles in it. She felt like she needed to cry, but she didn't want to. She wanted you to be there to give her a hug.

It took much longer to prepare the pie than needed; Pinkie kept getting distracted for reasons unknown to her. It was a miracle she didn't leave it in the oven for too long. But once it was ready, she was scared. What if you didn't like it? She had given you food every morning without worry, but what if she made it wrong? Did she salt the crust too much? Did you not like mushrooms? She minced them, so it shouldn't have been a problem...what about carrots? What if you were allergic?

She took some panicked breaths. What if it was so bad that you hated her for it?

No. Pinkie had come this far; she couldn't stop now. She wrapped it up and placed it in the usual basket. Slipping the handle into her mouth, she made her way out the door.

The walk to your house was miserable. It was bright out, but to Pinkie, the sky was cloudy. She wanted to turn back, but she knew she couldn't. This was the funniest sickness she had ever experienced. It was probably even worse than the Cutie Pox. When she finally arrived at your house, she felt like her heart was about to burst. She was so scared. She tried to build up the courage to ring your doorbell. One minute...not enough. Two minutes. Still not enough. Finally, once six minutes had passed, she rang.

You answered the door and she set the basket down on your doorstep. "This is...for you," she said, "I have to...uh...I mean, I want to...no, I...I..." She was mortified; she could barely speak. Turning, she darted away, leaving you with the pie (and many questions).

Pinkie needed help, fast. She felt like she could die at any moment. She went to Twilight, the only doctor she trusted. She knocked on the door, her face now a bright red. This was all so much. Twilight opened the door and saw her friend trembling.

“T-T-Twilight?” stammered out with an un-Pinkie-like timidity in her voice, “I...I think I need some medicine or something. I'm feeling...” She trailed off, her gaze now fixed on the floor.

Concered, Twilight quickly ushered her in and sat her on the couch. She put a hoof to her forehead and tilted her head in thought. “Hm...I don't feel a fever; but you look like you might have a cold. Hold on; let me go grab something.” A minute later she returned with a stethescope around her neck. She tucked the buds into her ears and pressed the diaphragm to Pinkie's chest. Her heartbeat was far too fast to be normal. “Pinkie, are you feeling dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Well, no...not dizzy. But my stomach feels a little queasy.”

Twilight took a mental note. “Are you having trouble seeing?”

Pinkie slowly turned her head from side to side. “No, I can see just fine, but...I can't talk as well today.”

Twilight found this curious. “I see...but you seem to be speaking fine now.”

“Well, this morning was different...” she muttered.

“What did you do this morning?” Twilight inquired.

Pinkie explained that she started to feel sick last night after having gone out with you, and that this morning she didn't talk much when she saw you. The nausea, the heartbeat, the blushing, the trouble speaking...it all suddenly made sense. Twilight suppressed a smile and asked one more question.

“Pinkie, does your heart hurt?”

Pinkie started to look hopeful. “Y-yeah...so you know what's wrong, then?”

Twilight laughed and hugged her. “Oh, Pinkie, you're fine! You're not sick; you're in love!”

Pinkie's eyes went wide and she broke free from Twilight's embrace, fumbling backward on the couch and pressing against the arm rest.

“Pinkie Pie, what's wrong? This is a good thing!” insisted Twilight.

Pinkie's lip quivered and she lowered her face into her hooves, too embarrassed to make eye contact. She let out a little whimper of sorts, as though she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Chuckling softly, Twilight set a hoof on Pinkie's shoulder. “Pinkie, it's okay. You don't have to be embarrassed. Love is a wonderful thing; I'm happy for you!”

Pinkie had never blushed this much in her life. What was this? She felt shy on occasion, but even that was rare. She had never been embarrassed before. Was this how embarrassment felt? It was like she just wanted to disappear and be alone forever. And Pinkie hated being alone. Not only that, but if this was love, then love felt horrible. If love felt nervous and queasy, she didn't want to be in love.

“How can I stop it...?” Pinkie asked desperately, peeking at Twilight through her hooves.

“Stop being in love? I'm not sure you can, unless you just don't see him again.”

Pinkie thought about this. Twilight immediately interjected. “Pinkie, no. You have to face your feelings; you can't just avoid him and hope for the best.”

“But I can try!” Pinkie said.

Twilight frowned. Her tone was very stern. “Pinkie. No. You can't just avoid new feelings by hiding from them. This will all subside once you just talk to him some more. Go on another date; get to know him.” Her expression became more gentle. “Who knows? You two could even get married someday.”

Married? You and Pinkie? She let out a little whimper and covered her face with her hooves again. Too intimate. Too close for comfort. She thought she liked talking to ponies; she thought she could talk about anything, but love was so embarrassing to talk about. It was different talking about herself rather than somepony else. She suddenly didn't like being the center of attention.

Twilight remembered her studies. She didn't have time for this right now. “Why don't you go home, Pinkie? Get some rest...think this through. I know it's a lot to handle, but you'll be fine if you just give it some time.”

Pinkie, relieved at this opportunity to escape, nodded and got off the couch. She walked briskly out the door and went straight to her house; or rather, that would have been her plan if she hadn't bumped into you along the way.

This part you remember—you were in the center of town, grabbing some breakfast before heading to work, when you felt somepony walk straight into you from behind. You stumbled, dropping the food you were holding, and spun around to find Pinkie staring at you, her face a deep red. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she wound up face-to-face with the one person she didn't want to see right now.

You smiled and said hi to her, but she didn't respond. She stared at the food you had dropped and shrunk back a bit.

“I...uh...I mean, I didn't...” She shut her eyes tight and galloped straight past you. She couldn't go to her house; you might look there. She just needed to get away. You watched, without a word, and wondered what you might have done wrong.

...

“Why, yes, I did feel like that for a short while,” said Rarity, levitating some tea and sugar onto the table where Pinkie sat across, “but that was only when I met my first coltfriend. The feeling wears off after two or three; I didn't feel it with my now-husband, but that doesn't mean I don't love him.” She stirred some sugar into her cup and took a sip. “However, I never felt sick, just a little nervous. Perhaps you really are ill...”

“I hope so,” said Pinkie. She sighed quietly, her head propped up by her hoof as she stared idly at the unsweetened tea before her.

“I know just the thing!” Rarity sang. “Why don't we go to the spa? It's been a while since I've had a good pampering...”

“But Rarity, you're pregnant; should you really--”

“Oh, nonsense, Pinkie,” Rarity dismissed with a wave of the hoof, “It's no danger this early on. I have at least another month before I need to worry. Besides, my husband is at work and it's been so lonely lately...please?”

After some thought, Pinkie nodded. She needed a distraction, and she wasn't going to find it talking about her problems.

A few minutes later, Pinkie was at the spa with Rarity, soaking in a hot bath with her head just barely above the water. She hummed quietly; a pleasant response to the warmth.

Rarity, who was leaning over the edge of the tub, sighed. “If there's one thing I know, it's relaxation. Well, fashion, but relaxation is a close second.”

Pinkie smiled and closed her eyes. "Wowie...this feels so good..." She let her mind wander and found herself thinking of that kiss you gave her on the date. It was just on the head, but she remembered it vividly. The warmth of your lips. The security of your arm around her. That first leap she felt in her heart. The feeling of butterflies she got when you walked her home; and the happiness she experienced that night as she drifted off to sleep...

Sleep...

Sleep...

“Pinkie!” came Rarity's voice from above.

Pinkie's eyes jerked open and she looked up. Rarity was standing above her, brow furrowed in concern. “Goodness, you've been in there for at least half an hour. Did you doze off? You need to get out; that much is unhealthy!”

Pinkie stood and climbed out, though her steps were very wobbly and unstable. She stumbled about, eventually tripping and knocking over a small table which hit the ground hard. Rarity grabbed her by the hoof before she fell into the mound of towels and sponges which were now covering on the floor. Pinkie just laughed. There were lines under her eyes from sleep deprivation.

“Pinkie, dear, are you alright? That bath was rather hot; the sign said not to stay in for more than ten minutes...”

Pinkie just giggled. “I'm fine...everything is all...spinny.”

“Ah, yes...spinny...” Rarity looked towards the door. “We should probably get you home. Walk beside me; I don't want you crashing into anypony.” She led Pinkie out of the spa, her mane and coat still wet.

Rarity brought Pinkie home and got her into bed. Even though it was only noon, she fell asleep right away.

…

You were working harder than you had in weeks. Every move was quick and accurate; you cracked eggs in one fluid motion; you kneaded dough firmly and smoothly; you cut the dough so swiftly, the tiniest mistake could have left you with a bleeding finger. But you didn't make a mistake. Everything you did was done with intent and dexterity. Your initial clumsiness from when you got the job was now gone; you had mastered the kitchen so well, you could have gotten a baking Cutie Mark by now if it it were possible. That was something you envied about ponies.

Everything you did was with Pinkie in mind. That date was incredible, even if it was just something small and simple. You wanted to take her out again; you wanted to make her happy and see her smile more. It was crazy, knowing you two had only been on one date, but you were in love. There was no doubt about it.

The store bell rang and you turned around. You were about to say you weren't open yet, but to your immediate confusion, you saw through the kitchen door a wet and disheveled Rarity trotting inside.

She called out your name and you stepped out from the kitchen.

“There you are; I came to tell you to check up on Pinkie. She's been...less than herself, to say the least.”

You mentioned your strange encounter with her that morning. She sighed.

“Yes, I know. Ever since you two went on that date, she's been an absolute mess. She can hardly think straight and she doesn't know what to do. I'm not asking for much, but...” She lowered her eyelids wryly. “My mane is soaked. My coat is a mess. I don't have any makeup on. My hooves are dirty, and I'm pregnant. Go to her, now.” She spun towards the door, tail whipping in the air, and trotted off.

You ran back to the kitchen and got the last few loaves ready. You left a note apologizing for your absence and let the owner know an emergency came up. You wrote down the amount of time the bread needed to be cooked and at what temperature. You mentioned that you were willing to work extra the following day if needed.

You hastily took off your apron and tossed it on a rack by the door. You washed your hands and face before darting off, praying you wouldn't get fired for doing this.

...

You got to Pinkie's house and found her lying in bed, fast asleep. She looked exhausted; she clearly needed rest. You had already left work, though, so you just pulled up a chair beside the bed and waited. Pinkie's house wasn't big, but it felt like home. She had pictures everywhere of all her friends, and even wrote notes for each one.

One particular picture was of Pinkie hugging Twilight. Pinkie's face was practically beaming with joy. Twilight looked camera-shy. The note attached simply read, “My new best friend, Twilight Sparkle!”

She actually had one of these for all of her friends, each of which was apparently her best. This made you chuckle. She just loved everyone so much. She was so thoughtful.

Pinkie also had a diary open on her nightstand. You didn't want to invade her privacy, but you could see that the entry it was open to was written in a hasty, enthusiastic manner. You assumed this wasn't the only one written in this fashion. The letters were large and there were little comments and notes jammed in the margins. The bright green ink in which it was written switched to orange half-way through, possibly because she ran out of ink, but it was more likely she just got bored with the one she was using. It was signed with a rose-colored “Pinkie!” at the end (the exclamation was included). You squinted and saw another note beneath it: “Sorry, I ran out of pink. I'll go see if Rarity has some!”

All throughout the house were plastic drawers stacked atop one another, each containing a different type of party supplies. Bright-colored streamers, noisemakers, champagne poppers, and punch mixes were just a few of the hundreds she had. Across the room from her bed was a calendar with a few dates circled in red, and to the right was a list of supplies for each. These were probably these days she was hired to prepare parties for clients, but she obviously didn't do all this herself. You stood from your chair and moved closer; there was a sticky note attached to the corner which read in a smooth cursive font,

“I hope this helps.

-Twilight”

You imagined Pinkie showing up to someone's house on the wrong day with the incorrect supplies. This was probably for the best.

You didn't want to snoop around her house for too long, so you returned to your chair and waited. And waited. Finally, after an hour or so, her eyes fluttered open.

You smiled faintly and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face. It was still messy from the bath. Pinkie just watched you silently, pulling the covers further up so they were covering her neck. She started to worry. Her lip quivered and tears filled her eyes.

“I'm sorry...” she whispered, almost inaudibly. “I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...” Her voice cracked and she trembled, biting back tears. She took in sharp breaths of air as she tried to speak. “I...I ran away from you, and...I could barely talk to you...and I don't want...you to hate me...”

You frowned in concern and set a hand on her hoof. You weren't mad at her...you didn't even know why she was crying. You reassured her that you weren't upset; you had no reason to hate her. She shook her head.

“But I don't know how I'm going to talk to you anymore...” she murmured.

You asked her why.

Her voice became soft. “Because I...I think I love you...” She looked down. She didn't want to see your reaction.

You knelt in front of the bed and lovingly caressed her cheek. She was so warm...so soft. She was absolutely beautiful, even with her mane in a mess and her coat stained with tears. You were certain of it, and so you told her those four words she needed to hear right now,

I love you too.

You tilted her head upward and kissed her. Not on the head like last time, but on her lips. Time stopped. Everything else faded away. It was just you and Pinkie, in silence, sharing your first kiss together. Right when you were about to pull away, she wrapped her hooves around you and pulled you back in. She was the one to kiss you this time, not willing to let you go. You smiled against her lips and pressed a hand to her heart. It was beating fast, but she didn't care anymore. She loved you, and if she had to stay like this forever, it was worth it.