Where I Belong

In the small, quiet town of Ponyville, Equestria, in a small, quiet cottage at the end of a small, quiet street, lived a small, not-so-quiet couple. Both were abed, taking in a few final moments of welcome sleep as the morning’s first rays crept through the drawn curtains and up the scattered blankets of the bed. The light fell upon their bare bodies, warming them from the cool of the night.

One was a Pegasus mare; orange-coated and purple-maned, she was barely on the cusp of adulthood, still retaining the untarnished smoothness of youth in her features. She had a scrawny build and was short for her age, leading many to mistake her for being petite until they saw that she was bony and far too poorly-groomed for such a filly-ish word. And she could think of no filly considered ‘petite’ that had a shiny silver piercing through her dock.

Lying next to the mare sprawled rather unceremoniously in the middle of the bed was a slightly stranger creature, at least in the eyes of the citizens of Equestria. Standing on two legs, he towered above even the tallest ponies. He had no fur coat to keep him warm, instead only small patches of black hair over portions of his pink-skinned body matching the short cut of mane on his head. He also had no tail, and strange appendages called hands instead of hooves, though the mare certainly didn’t mind that distinction. The two had found many uses for the spindly little digits, some practical and others convenient.

And others still immensely pleasurable.

He lay with one arm draped across her back, his hand clasped tight between her forehooves. As the minutes ticked, the sun streaming through the window crept up his body until it finally struck his eyes and he groaned. He likely could have remained asleep had an alarm not started blaring only moments later.

“Ugh!” he grumbled, trying to reach over to turn it off only to find his arm trapped in the hooves of his marefriend. And so he dug the other out from under her pillow and slapped the switch, achieving blissful silence once again.

It didn’t last, however, as the insidious side effect of maturity set in: responsibility. Dutifully, he withdrew his hand from his marefriend’s iron grip and gently shook her shoulder.

“Babe, time to get up for work,” he mumbled, his voice a hoarse mess. Neither of them had gotten quite as much sleep as they’d have liked. The night before was a vague mess of sweat, heat and messy sheets in his head. They’d both need a shower before work.

Instead of any sort of coherent response, the only sound that left the mare was a low growl that was somewhat muffled by the pillow she buried her head under.

“Seriously, babe. You need to get up or you’re gonna be late.”

She withdrew her head and cracked one bleary purple eye open, fixing him with the fiercest death glare she could muster. “I hate you so much right now, Will.”

There was nothing more beautiful to Will than the sight of her brow wrinkled in anger. Her frown, the way her ears lay back, it was all irresistibly attractive. So much so that he dragged himself up on his protesting elbows and planted a kiss on her cheek. Then another, and another, and one final one on her neck.

“And why’s that?” he asked softly.

She refused to return his kiss, though he noticed her face betrayed her by following him as he pulled away. As he looked down at her, she rolled her eyes and turned away in a huff. “’Cuz you kept me up all night! I’m gonna be walkin’ bow-legged all day thanks to you!”

He smirked and kissed her one more time on the forehead. “You know you loved it.” She went silent for a moment as she stared him down but eventually she grumbled and rose from the bed.

“Shut up,” she muttered as she hopped over him and stalked on creaky limbs toward the bathroom. Will leaned back into the bed, intent on catching a few more winks while she was in the shower before starting breakfast. Because of that he only half-heard the water starting.

But he did hear the toilet seat suddenly clang up.

And he heard the violent retching that followed.

Will hopped up from bed and stumbled to the bathroom as quickly as his legs would allow and flung open the door. Scootaloo was doubled over the toilet being violently sick, her wings drooping pitifully as she heaved. Sighing, he grabbed a washcloth from the counter and wetted it down with warm water and took a seat next to her, where he rubbed her back and brushed her mane out of her face.

When she had finally finished, he flushed for her as she laid herself across his lap. She took the washcloth he offered and wiped the taste from her mouth.

“Feeling better?” he asked as she tossed the washcloth into the hamper.

“No,” she croaked. He opened his mouth to speak again but she cut him off. “I know what you’re gonna say. The answer’s still ‘no.’”

“Babe, you’ve been sick every day this week!” he protested. “You don’t have to see a doctor, but can’t you at least go see Nurse Redheart? Just to get some medicine or something?”

“It’s just a stomach bug! I’ll be fine in a couple hours; it’s not worth going to see a nurse for, either. Besides, I don’t want to take the time off work. I don’t want to be the newbie that skips work at the drop of a hat.”

“Would you rather be the newbie that takes time off because they let themselves get sick instead of just seeing a nurse?”

She frowned deeply up at him. As stubborn as she was, Will knew she wasn’t going to give in easily.

“Come on, it’ll just take an hour or so to go see Redheart and then you’ll be at work before you know it. Mr. Package can spare you for just that long, can’t he?” he asked, trying to hold back a snigger at her boss’s name.

Scootaloo let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” Will said with a smirk.

“Ugh… Fine. Whatever; I’ll go. But I’m not gonna like it,” she muttered as she slowly rose off of him.

“I’ll find some way to make it up to you,” he called after her as she slipped behind the shower curtain. His mind was already filling with a number of ways. Candlelight, soft music, massage oils… the possibilities were endless. “Just name it and I’m yours!”

Scootaloo’s voice rang out from behind the curtain. “You can get in here and help me scrub my back.”

He shrugged, feeling mildly disappointed. Totally not what he had in mind. But he’d take what he could get. He needed a shower before work, too. Already naked, he didn’t need to undress before slipping into the shower behind her.

Scootaloo was sitting down, her face held up to the steaming stream to let it simply wash over her. Her eyes were closed, and for all the world she looked utterly peaceful. Had she not just puked her guts up Will might have thought she was perfectly fine.

He sat down behind her and grabbed a bottle of soap from a shelf on the wall. Squirting a little into one palm, he began gently rubbing it into her back. She cooed in delight as his fingers worked into the muscles around her wings and neck.

“How did I live without those hands of yours?” she asked dreamily.

Will’s only response was to carefully pick her up, cradling her in one arm as he began washing her underside. First one leg, then the other, he ran his hands across her coat, gently scrubbing the bubbles down to her skin. She sighed contentedly as he moved to her chest and stomach, using only his fingertips so as to not agitate her nausea.

When he was done he sat aside the soap and grabbed the shampoo. Blueberries filled the air as he lathered her mane and tail. The heat, the smell, the touch of her fur to his skin.

It was perfect.

Even after he’d finished, Will continued to sit with her, holding her hoof and brushing it with his thumb. They stared deep into each other’s eyes without a care in the world. It didn’t matter that they had jobs to be getting ready for, or chores that needed done or bills that needed paid. They were completely content just as they were.

Because they had each other.

“I love you,” Scootaloo whispered.

“I love you, too,” Will whispered back as he leaned down to kiss her, only for his lips to meet the underside of her hoof.

“No kissing!” she said, pushing him away. “I still have vomit-breath.”

“And the moment is ruined.”

She shrugged carelessly. “Eh. Romance is overrated. Besides, if we start having sex now you’re going to be late for work. You wouldn’t want Carrot Top mad at you, now would you?”

She fixed him with a cheeky grin, knowing what effect her words had on him. A shiver ran through his body at the thought of upsetting his boss. She wasn’t exactly strict, and she’d never had to punish or reprimand him in any way, but there was just something about her that he knew wasn’t to be trifled with.

He shook the feeling off. “She may be a little rough on the outside, but she’s a sweetheart once you get to know her. I think, anyway… But speaking of work, how’re things going for you? Raindrops still giving you trouble over muscling in on her delivery route?”

“She’s just giving me the cold shoulder these days. I don’t know what her problem is; it’s not my fault Mr. Package wanted me on delivery instead of her. I’m just the stronger flier.”

She went silent for a moment, looking towards the wall without really seeing it. Finally she gave a soft laugh. “Stronger flier… Never thought I’d get to say that.”

Will reached up to lightly scratch the back of her head, in a spot he knew she liked just under her right ear. “You’ve come a long way since way back then.”

Scootaloo hadn’t been the best flier when she was young. Either some quirk of nature or perhaps an undiagnosed condition had prevented her from being able to get off the ground until years after her peers were already flying easily. And even then she’d had to work herself to the bone just to catch up to what other pegasi considered normal.

That had all been before Will had known her, of course. But he’d heard the stories of her hardship and effort from both her and her older sister, Rainbow Dash, who’d served as her mentor during that time. Scootaloo had told him once that she firmly believed that without Rainbow’s help, she never would have made it off the ground.

Those flight lessons were one of the reasons the two were even as close as they were. Meeting every day for months on end to work together had developed a strong bond of friendship between them that neither wanted to lose, even after the lessons were no longer needed. This led to weekly meetings just to spend time together as sisters.

It was because of these meetings that Will, whose only friend at the time had been Rainbow, even met Scootaloo at all.

And his life had never been the same since.

“Yeah, I guess I have, huh? Now I’ve got a decent job, a nice house, a nice coltfriend,” she simpered, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “I’ve got just about everything I could want!”

“Well, aren’t you just the luckiest pony in the world!”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” she said, beaming. At least, until an ominous gurgle sounded from her stomach and she winced. “Okay, so maybe I don’t feel so lucky quite this second, but overall I think I come out on top more often than not.”

“Oh yeah, you come out on top quite often,” Will quipped, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

And even though she scoffed and rolled her eyes, Scootaloo couldn’t help grinning either. “Oh whatever! You can make jokes all you want, you’re still not getting any. Not until my stomach stops doing backflips, anyway. Now, you gonna help me clean up for work or not?”

With it apparent he truly wasn’t getting any, Will gave in and together they finished with their shower. After drying themselves off, Scootaloo made her way towards the kitchen while Will got dressed in a comfortably-worn pair of jeans and an old t-shirt. Tough, relaxed clothing was the name of the game in his line of work; after all, it didn’t pay him to look pretty.

After lacing up his boots, he proceeded up the house and found Scootaloo busily throwing two bowls of cereal together. She set the table and as she was putting the milk away, two slices of toast popped up in the toaster on the counter. She grabbed them in her mouth on the way back as Will took a seat at the table.

They talked little as they ate, though they said plenty. Their words were exchanged silently in little gestures. Scootaloo offering a hoof across the table. Will taking it in his hand, brushing her fetlock with his thumb. Her tail swaying against his knee under the table. A brief glance had their eyes meet, which in turn led to a long, loving stare.

Scootaloo was the first to finish, and she gave Will a kiss on the cheek before placing her bowl in the sink.

“Okay, I’m gonna head to the hospital. Hopefully Nurse Redheart can get me in real quick,” she called from the living room where her uniform and cap were hanging up on a hook by the door.

“Thanks for going for me! I know you think it’s nothing, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure, right?” Will asked.

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say, Dad! Anyway, I’m off. Don’t forget to stop by the post office and tell them where I’m at on your way to Carrot Top’s, okay? See ya; I love you!”

“Love you, too!” he shouted just before she closed the door behind her. It seemed like it was always like that in the mornings nowadays. Always rushing, never any time to just enjoy each other’s company. But such was the way it went when you and your marefriend lived together and had jobs and responsibilities.

As he finished his breakfast, Will pondered on why he ever thought growing up into an adult was a good idea.

Carrot Top’s farm sat a short ways south of Ponyville, about half an hour’s walk from Will and Scootaloo’s cottage. Three fields, one each to the south, east and north, sprawled between the hilly countryside. At the top of the highest hill on her land was a large, ancient barnhouse. A charming front porch greeted visitors with it’s white latticing and cheerful rosebushes to either side. Numerous blooming flowerbeds lined each window, spreading a sense of life and energy throughout the scene. To one side, a crooked, gnarled oak tree provided shade to a white-painted bench at which a grey-coated unicorn stallion sat hunched over a stack of papers.

On the ground next to him was a plastic playpen, painted with a number of fruits and vegetables in a bunch of vibrant primary colors. Several items were scattered about inside: a hoof-stitched blanket bearing images of smiling carrots, several plush dolls and one of those boxes with the different shaped holes you put the blocks through.

As Will approached the stallion, he spied a tiny yellow filly happily gumming on a teething toy in the shape of an apple. She began babbling excitedly as she saw him, catching the stallion’s attention. He beamed as he saw Will.

“Good morning, Will!” he called out. He was all smiles that morning, not that it was unusual for him. Will hadn’t ever seen him in a genuinely bad mood. “Beautiful out today, isn’t it? How’re you?”

“Cursing the sun and wishing I hadn’t woken up this morning, same as usual. You look good. How was your morning?”

“Quite nice! Had a lovely breakfast with Carrot and Mari --who ate all her food without fuss, yes she did!--” he cooed, making googoo eyes down at his daughter, “and now I thought we’d get some fresh air and sunshine! Carrot likes her to spend some time outside every day. Get her used to nature, you know.”

“She just wants Mari to love growing stuff like she does,” Will said as he stooped down to get closer to eye level with the giggling filly. “She wants you to take over the farm for her when she’s too old to pick the carrots anymore, yes she does!”

Marigold’s bushy golden curls threatened to fall into her sweet emerald eyes as she sat back and reached with her little hooves for Will to pick her up. The teething apple hung all but forgotten from her mouth as he obliged.

“And how’re you this morning, sweetie? You’re just the cutest filly in the world, you know that?” he said as he booped her on the nose to her delight. She caught his hand between her hooves, her grip surprisingly strong for a six-month old, and, as babies are wont to do, brought it to her mouth to replace her toy. Will didn’t mind though, as she gently gummed at his knuckle.

“She’s chewing just about everything these days,” Written Script sighed. “Ruined a perfectly good quill last night that I’d forgotten to put up. How she got it off the desk I’ll never know.”

“You’re just a clever little filly, huh? Just like your momma,” Will cooed.

“Are you flirting with my daughter?” came a voice from behind him. He rolled his eyes before turning around to see a dour-looking earth pony mare glaring at him. “I knew you liked them young, but you could at least wait ‘til she’s out of diapers.”

“Good morning to you too, Carrot Top,” he said, smiling in spite of her jab. If he let every one of her insults get to him, he’d lead a pretty miserable existence. Besides, he knew her prickly exterior was just a front.

He smirked as he bounced Marigold in his arms. “Does that mean I can take this cutie to her prom when the time comes?”

Instead of firing back another insult like he was expecting, Carrot Top just shrugged. “You’re welcome to try. But my daughter’s going to have good taste when she grows up, so you’re out of luck.”

Will clapped a hand to his chest dramatically, eliciting more giggles from Marigold. “Did you hear that, Mari-Pari? Do you hear how your mommy talks to me? You love me though, don’t you?”

“Bah-bah-bah!” she babbled happily, planting her forehooves on his cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘bah-bah-’back to your daddy, alright? Uncle Will’s got to go work for your slave-driver of a momma, yes he does! Ooooh, it’ll be okay, honey!” he cooed as she started to fuss when he sat her back in her pen. “Bye-bye, cutie. Catch’ya later, Written.”

Written Script waved as Will and Carrot Top made their way to the shed behind the house where all their tools were kept. Even in the distance, Will could still hear Marigold’s cries and each one felt like a kick to the chest. He tried to ignore it as he pulled on a pair of thick work gloves and started loading bags of carrot seeds into a wheelbarrow.

“You okay?” Carrot Top suddenly asked. She wasn’t looking at him, instead fussing over the harness she used to pull the wheelbarrow.

“Yeah, I’m fine; just hate making her cry. Makes me feel like a monster.”

“Yeah well, you are. Making a little baby cry like that. Why don’t you go find a puppy to kick while you’re at it?”

Will just rolled his eyes and harrumphed as Carrot Top led the way to the field they were working on for the day. Fresh-tilled ground awaited them, and together they set about their work with routine silence. Carrot Top led the way, using her hoof to dig holes a couple inches deep while Will followed behind depositing seeds inside and covering them up.

They worked in silence for nearly ten minutes before Carrot Top finally relented and asked the question Will had been expecting. “So really, are you actually okay?”

“I think I’ll get over making a baby cry by having to leave for work,” he deflected. But Carrot Top was not one to be deterred.

“I mean what’s actually bothering you. You’re quiet, which means you’re mopey about something. You were yesterday, too. So you can tell me what’s wrong or not; I don’t really care. I just want you working instead of stopping every few seconds to cry.”

Will stopped in his tracks, hand half-outstretched with a seed. He twisted it idly between his fingers as he debated whether he should even say anything.

“It’s stupid. It’s nothing. Just… Scoots was sick again this morning. I finally convinced her to go see Nurse Redheart, and I know it’ll turn out to just be a stupid stomach bug or something, but…”

“You can’t help but worry?” Carrot Top finished for him. After a moment she actually let loose a chuckle. “Celestia above, you’re just like Writty. Always fretting and worrying over nothing! I got sick in the mornings for nearly a month straight when I first got pregnant with Mari.”

She gave a loud, fake gasp. “Maybe that’s it! Maybe your baby of a marefriend’s got a baby of her own growing inside her!”

Will actually felt a little better at the sound of her raucous laughter. He felt fairly certain he was rather fluent in Carrot Top-ese after all his time working for her, and was sure she was trying, in her own way, to put his worries to rest.

But like with all things involving the obstinate mare, he couldn’t be completely sure she wasn’t just messing with him for her own amusement.

He liked to give her the benefit of the doubt though.

“There’s only one problem with that,” he said to her. He paused to gesture to his long body. “I am a human. And Scoots is a pony.”

“Stranger things have happened,” she said back, already returning to her normally bored expression. “Ponies and griffons can do it, why not ponies and weird, ugly aliens?”

“Humans are non-magic animals and ponies are. The two can’t cross-breed,” Will explained matter-of-factly. He could feel Carrot Top’s gaze boring into him, and as he looked up he smiled bashfully. “We checked with a doctor before her last heat. We, uh… just wanted to be sure.”

Her glare continued unabated long enough that he could feel himself starting to sweat under the intensity. Finally she relinquished and went back to digging holes with a sigh. “If I’d wanted details about your sex life with a foal I’d have asked.”

He chose to ignore her slight --except for rolling his eyes, he retained that right-- and went back to work. He’d made it no further than three more holes before Carrot Top’s voice broke the silence again.

“So, you wanna give me details about your sex life?”

If there was one place in the world that Scootaloo hated being, it was a hospital.

Hospitals were just a breeding ground for bad things. They were full of sick or dying ponies. Or sick and dying ponies! Dreariness seeped even into the waiting rooms that tried so hard to be inviting, and misery lurked everywhere else. Just like all the diseases covering everything.

Her fur crawled just at the thought.

Thankfully Nurse Redheart’s office was a little nicer. Ponies only went to her for little things, like allergies or flu shots, nothing life-threatening. And there never seemed to be more than one or two other ponies in the waiting room at a time. That morning, Scootaloo was the only one as she sat flipping through a magazine without actually taking in anything on it.

She had gotten in to see the nurse easily enough, only having had to wait a few minutes before another mare left the back room and she was called in. Nurse Redheart, with her snow white coat and soft pink mane tied in a bun, was the picture of professionalism, though the slight bags under her eyes and the steaming mug of coffee on her desk was a poignant reminder that she was just as much of a pony as Scootaloo was. Scootaloo chuckled to herself at the idea that the good nurse wasn’t a morning pony either.

The checkup had been quick enough. A few routine questions, Nurse Redheart must have been stumped for an obvious answer because she then ordered a blood test, ‘just in case,’ though she’d agreed that it was most likely just a stomach bug, as well.

Scootaloo had been asked to await the results in the waiting room after that. Nurse Redheart assured her it wouldn’t take long but Scootaloo hoped it would hurry up anyway. She wanted desperately to get to work. Not that she particularly enjoyed being a mailmare, but it wasn’t the worst job ever either. She just didn’t want to be seen as lazy or the pony who thought she was dying after every sneeze.

As she sat looking over that magazine she still wasn’t reading, she told herself again that everything would be just fine.

And so it was, when Nurse Redheart finally returned with an unreadable expression on her face that Scootaloo felt the first real tinges of fear gripping her.

“Miss Scootaloo, if you’d like to come back, I have the results of your blood test.”

Scootaloo tried to fight the feeling as she wordlessly rose and followed Nurse Redheart into the exam room. She sat upon the little table with the annoyingly crinkly paper and waited anxiously as the nurse pulled over a stool and sat down with a clipboard held carefully in the crook of a forehoof.

She felt no better when the nurse’s expression didn’t change.

“Miss Scootaloo, according to the blood test, the nausea you've been experiencing is morning sickness.”

The bottom dropped out of Scootaloo's stomach. “N-no way... I can't be! I'm...?” she muttered.

“Yes, Miss Scootaloo,” Nurse Redheart said. “The test confirmed it. You're pregnant.”